#like you told him? the classmate you barely interacted with?

[adumbratrapedme]

Atsumu Miya x reader | teen pregnancy. pt 1 the news.

Synopsis. a teen pregnancy storie between atsumu and reader.

wc. | genre. angst to fluff |cw/tags. angst, teen pregnancy mentions, fluff, etc.

teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

╭⋅ So, this happens on your third year at higschool, you guys dated since your first and at first it was good, but... im a sucker for "fuckboy!atsumu" allegations and agst so...

╭⋅ Atsumu definitely has that charming, cocky persona, and he’s known to flirt with anyone who catches his eye. But when he’s with the you, he can be surprisingly soft and genuinely sweet. Still, it’s a struggle for him to drop the “playboy” act completely, which causes a lot of tension in u guys relationship.

╭⋅ You guys always break up- and come back- break up- and come back-

╭⋅ Despite breaking up (thing he regrets everytime) he hates seeing you with someone else and can’t stand the thought of u moving on.

╭⋅ The pregnancy news hits him harder than he admits, and he starts questioning whether he’s ready to be a father and whether he deserves the chance to make things right with you-

╭⋅ DEFINITELY struggles with the idea of being a father, especially because he’s used to living a carefree life. He’s not sure he’s capable of stepping up, but as the pregnancy progresses, he realizes he might have to.

╭⋅ Before he fully realizes the gravity of the situation, Atsumu might initially avoid facing the pregnancy news because he’s scared of what it means for his future. He doesn’t know how to balance his carefree attitude with the responsibility that comes with having a child. It’s a huge step for him to admit he’s not ready, but once the reality sets in, he’ll struggle to find his place in the reader’s life again.

╭⋅ And in case you are curious this takes place in the same "universe" as osamu's teen pregnancy storie mwhaheheh

It’s been two months since you and Atsumu broke up—again. The same cycle, the same arguments, the same bullshit promises since you were in your 1st year. He’d swear he’d change, swear he was done flirting with other girls, done making you feel like you were just another option. And maybe he meant it in the moment, but he never followed through. So, you ended things.

But, of course, Atsumu never really left you alone.

Even now, as you sit in the classroom with a classmate, laughing at something dumb he said, you can feel Atsumu’s eyes on you. He’s standing by the doorway, pretending to talk to one of his teammates, but you know he’s watching.

Your classmate nudges you. “Miya’s glaring at me.”

You sigh. “Let him.”

Truthfully, you have much bigger problems than Atsumu’s jealousy. Like the positive pregnancy test sitting at the bottom of your school bag, wrapped in tissues and regret.

You haven’t told anyone. Haven’t even figured out how to process it yourself. But the weight of it is suffocating, pressing against your ribs, making every interaction with Atsumu feel ten times heavier.

When the bell rings, you head out quickly, but you barely make it a few steps down the hall before a familiar hand grabs your wrist.

“You’ve been avoidin’ me,” Atsumu mutters, his grip firm but not tight. There’s that usual cocky smirk on his lips, but his eyes flicker with something else.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you reply, pulling away.

His jaw clenches. “Who’s that guy?”

You blink. “What?”

“The guy you were sittin’ with,” he says, voice dropping. “You datin’ ‘im?”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Oh my god, Atsumu, are you serious? You’ve spent the last two months acting like I don’t exist, and now you’re mad because I sat with someone else?”

“I never acted like ya didn’t exist.” His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges. “Yer the one who walked away.”

You exhale slowly, gripping the strap of your bag. This is pointless. He’s always like this—possessive when it suits him, distant when it doesn’t.

You should just walk away. But the words are already clawing their way out of your throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

The hallway noise fades. Atsumu just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Like his brain is still buffering, trying to process what you just said. Finally, he breathes out a short, shaky laugh. “What?”

You hold his gaze, refusing to repeat yourself. His smirk wavers, and then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known him, Atsumu looks genuinely lost.

You don’t wait for him to process it. You turn, your feet carrying you down the hallway, away from him, away from everything. Your heart is pounding, each step feeling heavier, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Atsumu doesn’t say anything more. Not that you’d expect him to. He’s still standing there, frozen, his mind racing, but no words come out.

As you step outside, the cool air hits your face, and you breathe it in, trying to steady yourself. You have a plan. Sort of. You’ll figure this out, somehow. You always do.

But then, you hear his voice again.

“Wait.”

It’s soft, hesitant—definitely not the usual Atsumu, not the cocky asshole he always is.

You don’t stop.

“Hey,” he calls, louder now, more desperate, his tone slipping into something unfamiliar.

This time, you force yourself to pause but don’t turn around.

Atsumu’s footsteps echo behind you, and he catches up quickly, standing a few feet away. You still don’t look at him. You don’t want to.

“I—” He hesitates, and you hear him swallow. “Is it mine?” You freeze, your blood running cold for a split second, before everything inside you snaps. You turn around sharply, fury building up in your chest.

“Of course it’s fucking yours, Atsumu,” you snap, your voice cutting through the air. “Unlike you, I don’t go sleeping around with people after I end a relationship.” (I have a question guys, english people, is it “unlike you” or “like you”. ?? Confused at 100% hope is understandable tho)

His face goes pale. He opens his mouth to say something but falters, clearly not knowing how to respond to that. You can see the guilt in his eyes, the regret, but you’re too far gone to care.

“You think I’d come to you with this if there was any doubt?” Your voice shakes, but you keep your gaze steady. “I’m not some fucking idiot who plays games like you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long while. He just stands there, staring at you as if you’ve slapped him across the face. And maybe, in some ways, you have.

Finally, he takes a step forward, his voice quieter now, as if he’s trying to find his footing. “I’m sorry.”

But you don’t want his apology. Not this time.

“I don’t need your apology,” you reply coldly, turning to walk away. “I need you to stop pretending you care when you don’t.”

Atsumu doesn’t follow you. Not this time. You hear him stand still, the silence heavy between you two, and for the first time, you don’t feel the slightest urge to look back.

Taglist:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02 @alpha-mommy69 @curlyhairkk @b1xi @reuka1

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! also if u only want to be tagged on specific characters.

-if i forgor someone pls tell me and dont be shy, i get really lost with the taglist thingy ahhh

I HATE THE TWINS SO BAD (jk i love them) i always get confused on who is who, who is pee pee head whois poo poo hair anyways huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh sprry for late update, im doing a few other stuff lately but i. uh. i deeply apolgzhe!!

[smolfoxbab]

imagine being Ran post-BO takedown and finding out Hondou Eisuke of all people got let into the secret identity circle before you did

[acid-ixx]

seasons in the sun: goodbye, my love, please pray for me...

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

you guys i'm sorry for literally dying from the feed all of a sudden but i need y'all to be as feral as i am for the idea of a romantic! yandere jason with his childhood sweetheart reader.

y'know, the dichotomy of what used to be softness in the past in your relationship with jason. you know him as the sweet, malnourished boy who trespassed in your house to raid your fridge, the kind protector of your apartment after you'd offer your leftovers when he'd invaded your house and you're the only one left, advising him to run off to the balcony to hide once your parents come back from their trip; the silly guy who laughs shyly at your jokes, who'd coincidentally became your classmate after he'd been taken in by his rich father, who recalled the story to you when you'd both sneak by the backyard of your school with no qualms for privacy because it's you who he first learned to trust when he's thrust into the cruel lifestyle of the streets, knowing only how to bare his teeth but never how to retract it at the hands of its owner.

he's your closest confidant, the smart, nerdy boy who reciprocated your blooming romance, read classics to you with his squeaky voice, who offers to share with you his lollipops to "make up for all the times i ate your dinner at home," who secretly shoves his assignment answers under your desk when you'd forgotten to do yours and whispers the answers to the questions you're forced to recite when he notices your tensed jaws and quivering lips, shy and unaware of what to tell the teacher. only he knows it when your confidence is at an all-time low, and he helps guide through your problems like how you've been the only light in his life.

jason is the sweetest boy, he has no idea how to hold your hands, whose face flushes when your lips kiss his cheeks and when you cheekily grin at him after. sweaty fingers interlace with yours while you both lay on the grass of the gardens, listening to him rambling about the stars, and magic, and fantasy worlds, after bruce had finally permitted you to enter the manor because even his father could see how lovely you've impacted his adopted son; both of you keeping secret of your first meeting, similar to how you bask under the moonlight, alone, as if your presence yearns to be worshipped, he thinks.

he's your childhood sweetheart, and nothing can ever shatter the reality that he's the only right one for you.

your first love, sure, and your first heartbreak too.

taken away from the world at the cruel hands of death, at the ripe age of 17. the details his father retold you, with his equally somber, mourning expression do no justice to what felt like sledgehammers breaking a dam in your heart, your entire world breaking, even bruce's hands weighing at you shoulders during the entire funeral process don't ground you at all, you've no thought other than just how truly lonely you are to the world without him by your side—

the burden only becomes heavier, the tears refusing to drip from your eyes, staring at the picture frame of your happy, chipped-tooth lover now in a casket, surrounded by mourning flowers, sun dipping below the horizon which only darkens your vision.he unmoving now, dead, actually, and your mind couldn't comprehend how you'll never hear the chirp of his voice on one side of his ears and feel the scabs on his skin slowly fading away each day under your care.

even if your chest beats too loudly in your ears, your sweetheart, for the first time in your life, wouldn't be able to grasp at your shivering hands and assure you that he's alright.

he's gone. your sweet, loving, jason is gone.

you wish he'd die in your arms instead, rather than left you aching, worried and senseless from the days he'd suddenly disappear, then suddenly dead from a bombing, as what his father had told you. and you're not there to witness the scene, you couldn't even fathom just how much your body — still locked in place watching the funeral proceedings from afar, you don't feel quite yourself anymore — wishes to run to his open casket just to take his cold, laying body in your arms to feel your warmth.

at such an early moment, from what had felt like an eternity spent with the young boy, yet such a short span of being together with him at the same time— your grief has you yearning for the past image of your sweetheart. you want him back, you want your jason back. the years you've wasted, trying so hard to repair, to fill the broken gaps in your heart, to overcorrect, finding and chasing the comfort from other people, yet reeling away when every other person felt so foreign in your arms instead. nothing could ever replace the sweet ache in your tooth back when you're with him, nobody could amount to the tears you've wasted over jason because nobody is jason.

not even him, not when he came back a hardened soul, with a different body now bigger and stronger than you, who'd visit you during the night, intruding in on your apartment which oh-so prompts you to recall the very first day you'd met him. you don't know of his hardships, you're given a different story and the entire situation perplexes you, but you couldn't deny the ache in your chest when faced with this burly man, standing in front of you, breathing heavily and gazing at you with the same, starstruck stare that pins you on the spot of your bed.

he doesn't look like the jason who died, but he feels so much like him that your tender tears finally dripped down your quivering cheeks after what felt like eons of grief.

when he was resurrected from the dead after two years, he's not quite the same jason that you'd known and loved. he's broken, crawling out of that disgusting pit with only rage in his heart and the inclination to plot vengeance on those who've wronged him. there shouldn't've been an ounce of softness left, no love nor desire, no fantasy of his ex-lover when it should only be violence that he'd have known. but even so, beneath every vile emotion he felt, was the drive, the passion to come back to you first after he'd come to his senses. he'd remember screaming in agony, at feeling the rickety bones grinding against one another, at feeling for the sinewy muscles now aching and bulging in its restraints.

he's in a body taller than when he'd pass away from, and he wishes, after gaining enough consciousness— he fucking wishes you're there with him during the recovery phase, from when he's left to the cavern of his thoughts, braindead and unable to comprehend ra's al ghul's words, not when he's busy drowning in the depths of his clawing memories of you. nothing, not even the silken sheets he lays on, compares to you kissing his wounds like you always do and comforting him with your hushed words. beyond the exterior of his violence, of his boiling rage, was the hope that you'd still think of him in every waking moment the same way his first thought directs at how your fingers would tenderly graze at his skin.

i'm just saying, the angst/comfort potential of having the only person closest to you stripped away from your grasps, now in a different image. he's the same man you've prayed every single day to come back, but being faced to face with him that moonlit night, while your eyes still take in the unfamiliar form of jason's body towering over you, when his hands couldn't keep itself plastered to its side that it just, reaches out to grab you so he could bury his head on your clavicle and take a whiff of your body— you couldn't ignore the sheer differences.

how he scrunched his body to meet your height unlike the past where it's you adjusting to him, how his hands take precaution to ensure you're not crushed by his deadly strength, palms bigger than your head, how he takes utmost consideration peppering kisses on your shoulders, mumbling his apologies, his "i miss you, baby,"'s and "i love you s'much, i'm sorry for being gone for too long, sweetheart"'s, his refusal to release you; all while your heart raises a mile a minute because this is the red hood in front of you, clad in heavy metal armoury and mercenary weapons; a danger to gotham's criminal kind. yet it's him who speaks to you like your beloved jason with his heavy accent and rushed words, now a deep tremor compared to the young boy who chirps your name.

the only thing closest to you which reminds you of your past moments with jason, was that ever-so dedicated look of love. his hazy gaze, disguised under marred skin and sunken piercing eyes, yet so delicately filled with love that fills your chest with nostalgia long gone: of nights spent together at your apartment when he'd read you your favorite fairytales, of days having picnics together, baskets filled with handpicked fruits and alfred's sandwich, of moments coddling each other, feeding off the warm buzz off both bodies, legs entangled, sharing innocent kisses behind the trees.

of heartfelt promises, long forgotten yet still protected within jason's heart now guarded under lock and key, with only you having access if you just allow him to be loved by you once more. the man before you is a man who's changed, filled with contempt, jealousy, scorn for a mankind that scorches at every criminal, emotions so utterly complex compared to the boy you used to look at with ease, whose emotions used to be so easily distinguished from anger and adoration, who never beared hatred unlike now.

and you, who's just so conflicted, equally broken and unable to understand the entire situation. why, just why does the world want to torment you so much that it brings your old lover back— but different, hands now scarred, pinning you down with unfamiliar muscles bigger than your body, burying himself on your shoulders, mumbling and sobbing about his woes while your mind still reels itself back in to comfort him as you always do. this is the man you still love. his touch is all-knowing, he knows you loved it when his kisses reach the back of your ears, when his fingers fondle your waist.

he's different, yet the same. if it's not your dear jason coming back, if it was red hood, then why do you still recognize his presence so easily?

his aggressiveness to others you couldn't approve — the news labels him a brutal anti-hero, batman's new criminal enemy, he's a weapon of fear you should've resented — but why is it that it's his gentleness towards you that makes your heart ache at the memories of when he'd defend you from intruders, using his wits instead of his lacking strength? why do you feel like a completed puzzle piece in his arms?

he's here now. the red hood is here, but so is jason todd.

you could've called the gcpd, report them of his intrusion inside your house, forget all of this ever happened. but you should've also never brought your hands up to tangle itself upon the messy tresses of his black hair now streaked with white at the front, you shouldn't've hushed him and his cracking voice, taking his cheeks in your palms and having him look you straight in the eyes, drowning at dulled, blue eyes. once it reminds you of the blazing sky, now it's like the raging storms of the sea at night. without his red, gleaming helmet, he's reduced to your sweetheart; you cradle his head and stay silent.

still conflicted over brewing emotions, over the resurfacing love that you've forced yourself to bury the same time his casket was buried under the manor's soil.

in truth, you're tired of yearning, or constantly seeking a cheap, temporary replacement for jason. you've come to the stage of anger and withdrawal too, and your friends have told you that you should learn to rebound. but you're oh-so parched from love that no other could've given you, that you just couldn't fully relinquish your feelings, you can't.

in truth, you almost learnt to let go. almost.

but there's always the greatest fact: it's that as long as he's alive, even if resurrected and never the same, you'll still learn to love him over and over again, no matter if it takes years, he's yours and you're his. despite the cruelty he bears to others, he's your sweet boy, you miss him far too long, far too deeply. all is fair in love and war, they say, and all you wanted to do was to replicate those moments where it's just the two of you; even if his body is now bigger than you, you can still hold him, no? even if he knows how to wield guns better than how he held you shyly back then, he can learn—

thing is, you just wish things were simpler, you wish he'd have no other priorities, you wish the world didn't strip him away from his innocence. jason didn't deserve it, his death, and when he'd confess the truth: of his identity, of how he truly passed away, of his trials and tribulations to earn the path back to your place; you're left stinging with ache more than nostalgia, wishing you'd notice sooner.

so even if the man who lays in bed with you now is different, he's still the same man who held you tight in his arms, who remembers how to tuck you in the way you like it, who gazes at you filled with adoration, lips still quirking up hesitantly at your expectant stare. maybe it hurts, still, that he's not entirely the same jason who's smiles without bounds, who doesn't sport the same crinkle of mirthful eyes and jumpy actions, but he still retains the same love he'd carry for you all those years, even in death—

he's back, and that's all that matters.

a/n: yes do leave comments 🤩 idk what i just wrote honestly, srs about that. and i wrote it so that you do kind of have more... obsessive traits towards jason hehe. he's my favorite other than tim drake (well almost every character in dc is my fave, but i have my top spots), and tbh the reason i disappeared was because i was getting too invested in canon dc content that i forgot to write for it ngl.

[ourhees]

THIRSTY ── PSH

PREC𝓲S ｡｡ 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝖺 ✦──𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍

박성훈 ／⠀ female reader ── slight suggestive + non idol au ｡｡ my princess mils did something similar >< fic twins !! . . . more

tonight was decelis academy’s yearly haunted party, the biggest night at school and almost everyone’s favorite party. you were never one who enjoyed parties, but after meeting your now boyfriend sunghoon at one, you looked forward to these parties every year.

this year you and sunghoon decided to dress up as vampires, the costume suited him almost too perfectly. his pale skin and piercing eyes made him the perfect vampire.

the bass could be heard throughout the walls of the building, lights flickering purple and orange. your heart pumped as you and sunghoon walked farther into the party, blending in perfectly amongst the other whom wore costumes and chattered with each other.

you grabbed a drink from the drink table, settling down by a few other friends. “i’ll be back.” you told sunghoon as you got up, going off to find one of your other friends. sunghoon sat quietly, not engaging in any conversations or interactions.

you and jake caught up for a little, sipping on your drink lightly as you brushed past all your classmates. “is sunghoon okay?” jake asks, subtly pointing at sunghoon. sunghoon was pale, a little more pale that usual.

“isn’t that how he always looks?” you ask jake, your eyes still on sunghoon as you watched him. sure he was pale, but as you squinted, you realized what jake had meant. “oh..”

you went back over to the area sunghoon was in, sitting beside him as you took in his pale figure. “you okay? you look a little more pale than usual..”

sunghoon looks up from the floor, his eyes glaring at you. “i’m fine..” his voice strained, lacking its usual edge tone. “just a little tired.”

he looked away slowly, but he looked at you again, his eyes were softer and you knew something was wrong. a few drops of sweat rested on his forehead, his once calm demeanor was cracking away slowly.

“tired?” you raised your eyebrow. “we’ve barely been here for an hour.”

sunghoon’s lips pressed together, almost as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. instead, he was fighting the urge to sit up right.

you frowned, placing an arm on his hand. “you’re not fine.. wanna step outside for a minute?” you asked, hoping he’d say yes, instead of fighting it.

sunghoon hesitates for a second, before nodding. you and sunghoon walk out to the front of the school, a small little bushy area with a white seating area.

sunghoon sat down and you sat beside him, he closed his eyes for a second, his jaw tightening before he finally spoke. “there’s something i need to tell you..” he paused, finding the right words to say. “i don’t know how you’ll take it.”

your pulse quickened. “what’re you talking about?”

he exhaled softly, opening his eyes to meet your figure. sunghoon’s eyes were darker than usual, almost glowing in the dim lights that rested on the school’s building. “i’m not like the others here…i’m not human.”

his words made your breath hitch. “what..?” you looked up him, searching for some sort of answer. “what do you mean?”

“i’ve been trying to hide it… to prevent you from leaving.” he said, his voice strained. “but i can’t hide it anymore. this party… being around all these people…it’s too much for me now.”

his fingers trembled, the veins under his pale skin were standing out more than usual. his teeth are sharper than you could recall.

“sunghoon…?” you whisper, slowly moving away.

“i’m a vampire.” he admitted, his words hanging heavily in the atmosphere, sunghoon left room for you to leave. “i can’t hide it anymore.”

a series of chills ran down your spine, not out of fear, but disbelief. his odd behavior, and distant stares.. it finally made sense.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked, your heart racing.

“i was afraid you’d leave me if i told you.” sunghoon ran his hand through his hair, looking awfully pained. “i’ve never felt this weak.. but tonight, i can barely control it.”

“control what?” you looked at him, feeling as if the ground shifted beneath your feet.

his eyes met yours, there was hunger in them and it made your pulse quicken. “i’m starving…”

you froze, the realization sinking like ice. sunghoon wasn’t talking about food, he was talking about you.

“i don’t wanna hurt you..” he added quickly, desperation breaking through his voice. “i’ve been trying to hold back, but i can’t anymore.”

you swallowed hard, the tension between you two felt suffocating. “what if you didn’t hold back?”

sunghoon’s head snapped up. “what?”

“you need it right?” you said, softly, scooting closer to him. “if you’re in this much pain, maybe i can help you.”

sunghoon looked at you, almost as if you were offering the world, a bit of fear rested in his eyes—fear of losing control, of doing something he knows he shouldn’t.

“i don’t wanna hurt you..” he repeated, his voice weakened more and more.

“you won’t..” you whispered, your heart racing as you reached to brush his pale cheek. “i trust you.”

for a quick moment, he stared at you. his eyes flashed with mixes of hunger and hesitation. “i don’t know if i can stop once i start..” sunghoon muttered, his voice trembled.

you leaned in, your lips brushing past his ear as you whispered. “then don’t.”

that’s all it took, in an instant, sunghoon pulled you onto his lap, moving your hair away from your neck. his lips made its way to the curve of your neck, his breath ragged against your skin. his hands trembled, as they gripped your waist tightly.

“if it hurts… tell me to stop..” he whispered against your neck, leaving a gentle kiss along the area his teeth would soon sink into.

“i will.” you replied, your breathing getting heavier by the second.

with a sharp inhale, sunghoon sunk his teeth into your neck, consuming any ounce of blood he can get. the pain was sharp, but quickly replaced with something warm and electric. you gasped softly, your fingers tangled in his hair as his hold on you tightens. his body trembled with need, as he drank from you.

sunghoon slowly pulled away, his lips stained with your blood, and his eyes darkened with satisfaction. “are you okay..?”

you nod, getting a second to catch your breath. “yeah i’m okay..

his fingers brush against your neck, sunghoon looked at you in disbelief, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. “i didn’t hurt you right?”

you nod. “you didn’t hurt me hoon..”

sunghoon exhaled in relief. “i’m sorry..” he whispered. “i didn’t want it to happen.” you quickly placed your mouth over his, a deep yet intimate kiss. you pulled away, smiling softly. “it’s okay.. i wanted to help you.”

💌 : the way me and mil had the same idea 🙂‍↔️ i think it’s a sign idk guys … i think @kairoot wants me !! october = vampire sunghoon.

[ghost-proofbaby]

IT WILL COME BACK (E.M.)

"honey, don't feed me - i will come back."

summary: when eddie came back from the upside down, he was different. and you finally come to realize just how different the man you saved truly is one night, when push comes to shove.

pairings: kas!eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of BLOOD (in sexual manner), mentions of BITING (in sexual manner), allusions to possible coercion (consent is still explicitly stated - trust me), mentions of death and trauma, mentions of eddie's canon death, taking a lot of creative liberty with expansive vampire lore across all media, mentions of murderous dreams? (eddie dreamt about killing reader idk), oral (f receiving), smut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY.

wc: 7.7k+

a/n: i told y'all i'd write a serious biting/blood kink fic one day - today is the day. very lazily edited so beware.

When Eddie came back from the Upside Down, he was different.

There were subtle changes at first. Small, minute details that were easy to ignore. Everyone could turn a blind eye to them — everyone figured they would fade once the boy healed. His healing was first priority, and whatever lingered after could be dealt with.

Get Eddie better. Then question all that lingers.

A simple plan. A genius plan. A torturous plan.

The two of you had been friends, if you could even call it that, prior to it all. Teasing in the hallways, working on school projects here and there when in shared classes, he was your favorite (and only) dealer when you craved something to make sleep come just a little bit easier. He had been familiar — an old ghost you'd grown comfortable with, long before you’d seen those large and wet eyes looking back up at you in the boathouse. 

Long before he’d pieced together the puzzle pieces as to why you’d needed the weed to cancel out the nightmares. Long before he’d processed exactly what those nightmares entailed.

But then, you’d fought for him. You’d fought with him. And most importantly, you’d bled with him.

God, you had bled for him. 

Something admirable had blossomed in that short time. Eddie’s entire life had fallen apart, thread by frayed thread, and that new planted emotion had been the only solid thing to emerge for him to absolutely cling to. You were more than a fellow classmate to pass by in the hallways. You were more than his favorite customer, always weaponizing fluttering lashes and puckered lips for a discount he’d have given you regardless. 

You were a force to be reckoned with, and had ignited a hunger in him like no other.

That’s all he had thought it was when he’d awoken in his living room — not the distorted version but the real one — to you screaming for the others to help you as you’d sealed his wounds. That’s all he had thought it was when you’d come to visit him as wounds turned to scars, and stabbing pains turned to hungering pangs. So he had tried to bury it, listen to Harrington and Wheeler and Buckley when they told him to take time to readjust. He’d locked away that hunger and focused on his healing, just as everyone else had, and told himself it was just residual feelings. 

Residual feelings had been bound to happen after seeing someone bloody their hands, with your own blood, for your survival. 

And in his burial, he’d never considered a similar hunger igniting somewhere deep within you.

You visited far more often than you should have. Returning time and time again to change his bandages, taking on one too many shifts at the hospital during his unconscious spells and baring your teeth for anyone who got too close. The sweet blood on your hands hadn’t washed away in that first shower; you swore, if you looked closer, you could still see the stain of nearly losing him across your knuckles. 

Physical wounds were easier to heal than the internal ones. It was easier to lather on antibiotic lotion than it was to sleep soundly at night. Both of you came to realize that quickly in the weeks that followed Eddie’s return from the dead.

His nights were plagued with bad dreams, with thirst and cravings he couldn’t quite name. He’d wake up, burning up from the inside out with a fever that never existed. Tearing skin. Puncture wounds. Blood spilling across floors and his lips alike. He could never tell if the shivers that traced his spine had been from the cruel visions that had become his nightly visitors or if it was due to his perpetual drop in temperature that had worried Nancy since the very first night home from the hospital, that had concerned the nurses who piled blankets atop him during his week long sleep of recovery. 

Your nights were even less kind. Horrific memories were the demons that haunted you — remembering the way you had watched Eddie cut that sheet rope, remembering finding him bloodied on the ground, remembering the warmth of his blood seeping across your palms and how when your ear had turned just as heated with it as you pressed it to his chest. Only to hear nothing. Emptiness.

His heart had stopped for minutes. Plural.

It had been your steady rhythm, your desperate hands and your gasping breaths breathing into his lungs. You’d sunk your claws into him, caught them right between his ribs and had decided he couldn’t leave you.

Some nights, when you wake up screaming, you can still taste his blood on your lips. You sometimes still swore that when you’d checked for a pulse after that, you hadn’t heard anything. Still worried that Eddie Munson’s heart never really restarted and resumed beating. 

The worst was when you’d stare through the faded grey of  mornings plastering across your room’s walls, and could still remember that initial look in his blown out pupils, once honey brown swallowed in pure black as he’d taken his first breath on his own. 

Hunger.

You’d felt it, too. Shame riddled you on the nights you’d come down from the nightmares and remember it; it was as though the Universe had snapped back into place the moment you’d watched his chest first rise. A need so ardent to remain at his side. A chain clicking into place, binding both yourself and Eddie to one another, unaware of just what price had been paid to keep the boy that had laid under you in this world. Unaware of the hunger you had struck the match too that would become both your downfalls.

And so it had been buried. Something alive, even with your doubts of Eddie’s liveliness, and choking on dirt while six feet under. You and Eddie, two sides of the same coin, had decided to not speak of it. He never told you how he had come to be able to pinpoint your heartbeat in every shared room he entered, throat burning as his gaze always settled on you, and you never told him of the matching aches that had shamefully sparked within your chest and between your hips for him. 

A hunger to be near one another. A hunger to devour. Neither of you really understood the heaviness.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?” Steve asks as he sits on the edge of the new bed in the new apartment in the new part of town the Munson men now occupy. 

Government money could go a Hell of a long way. Especially after your home had been devastated by the aftermath of alternate dimensions and unheard of evil being defeated.

“Fine,” is the only response Eddie can muster.

In reality, every time anyone came near him now, he burned. His throat tightened till it was surely raw, he swore his teeth sharpened until a mere slip of his tongue against his canines could bring the taste of metallic blood to his mouth. His entire body would tense with every person that walked through his door.

Control. Whatever was happening to him, Eddie needed to exercise control.

“Just fine?” Steve continues on, not catching the drift as he puts down the bag of things he’d bought at Eddie’s request. Basic things — painkillers, packs of cigarettes, a 6-pack. Some habits die harder and can’t be controlled, “You look like shit, Munson.” 

“Gee, thanks, Stevie.” 

Everyone had assumed the dark shadows beneath Eddie’s eyes would fade. They assumed his cheeks would eventually fill back out. They assumed he could wash away the ashen shade his hair now flatly flowed in. It was as if the life had been drained from Eddie since that day, and they had all assumed it would eventually flow back into him. 

It never did. Just as his new hunger lingered, so did the look of Death.

“Sorry, man,” Steve throws his hands up, shrugging a bit before he stands, “Just being honest. It’s the best policy.”

“Is it? Is it really?” 

If honesty was the best policy, Eddie could have filled the room with it. He could admit about the nightmarish wants, needs, he’d been keeping at bay. He could admit the way his irritation had been growing this last week every time another body, another friend, walked through his doorway and it wasn’t you. You, who had begun to plague the night terrors. You, who Eddie was beginning to crave far more than he had before he’d stared the afterlife down the barrel of the gun. 

Steve just looks at Hawkins’ newest zombie boy, sighing, “Look, I don’t know what’s got you pissed off-“

“The whole dying thing, for starters.”

“-or why you’ve insisted on being an asshole to all of us these last few weeks-“

“Again, I died.” 

“-but you’ve got everyone but me scared to visit you. We’re all scared of you biting our heads off, dude,” Steve finally finishes with a scowl. 

Everyone. It’s unspoken that you’re included in the generalization. 

It occurs to Eddie that maybe, just maybe, he should be kinder if he ever wants the ache of yearning to see you again to fade. If that’s what he could call this ache.

By the time Steve has left, Eddie’s still thinking about his warning. About the way he had been unusually cruel since coming back to life, since waking up handcuffed to a hospital bed. It made sense initially. But he wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed anymore — he was home, or as close to home as he could get, and he was technically safe.

The issue was that he’d accepted his safety. Everyone who had wanted Eddie Munson dead was now six feet under themselves. No, the bigger issue at hand was everyone else’s safety.

Your safety.

Once he’d realized you were the staring lead in his violent fantasies, he had stopped calling. Half of your absence last week had been his fault. 

No one really bothered to look deeper into it. Steve didn’t press as to why Eddie’s fridge had remained empty, Nancy didn’t take second glances at the odd books on vampire tales that were now littering all the free real estate of Eddie’s room, and you hadn’t questioned the coldness of his tone whenever he spoke to you. The chill of his words had grown icier than his own palms, desperate to keep you at arm’s length until he figured out what had changed in him that day he came back to life. 

He wanted you near. He wanted to rip your throat out. He wanted your blood to stain his mouth and neck just as his had stained your hands. That was an issue. That wasn’t normal. 

Something had changed in Eddie Munson, and it had terrified him to his twisted core, and no one had cared enough to notice. Not yet.

–

It took you two weeks to be fed up with the radio silence. 

Eddie stopped calling even Jonathan (the only one of the group he found he didn’t want to devour whole, as it turns out). When everyone had mentioned it in passing, it had only reminded you of the sleepless nights you’d be enduring. That small voice in the back of your head that had called out to you in the dead of night, the whisper of come to me that echoed all the way across a broken town. 

Come to me. 

Sometimes you swore it was Eddie’s voice calling to you. Sometimes, you nearly left your own new apartment in the dead of night, and let your legs guide you to the undead boy you had single-handedly revived.

Tonight was one of those nights. Your stomach was twisting, your head was pounding, your bones were aching. Every single inch of you hurt as it listened to that soft calling, and at some point, you gave in.

Hunger. You were insatiable with the need and drive to be at Eddie’s side. Warnings from the others be damned.

One thing leads to another. You find your coat, you find your car keys. You find yourself driving the deserted streets of Hawkins in the middle of the night. You find yourself on the Munson doorstep, knuckles shaking and aching with the knowledge that just beyond the wood of the door, he was there. You don’t have to see him to feel him; his thrumming presence, his anchoring existence. 

Come to me. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to knock. This string tying your two souls together is not a one-way channel, it seems. 

“Why are you here?” 

You watch him wince as the harsh words leave him. Immediately, you know that the abrasiveness is on instinct. Just as something claws inside of you to be near him, there is something within him howling to keep you far from him. 

The polarity of two magnets. Some nights, surely, his twists in a way that would draw him to you, just as yours will twirl with the sensibility that whatever has changed within him should give you cause to run as far away from him as possible. 

But tonight, your magnetism only yanks you closer to him. He doesn’t even invite you in, and yet, you find yourself stepping over the threshold of the new apartment. 

“You’ve gone quiet,” you whisper as an answer. It’s not what he wants to hear, grimace deepening, nearly a scowl now, “I just… It’s been weeks. I…” 

I missed you. I needed you. I heard you in my dreams and I’ve never had much self-control when it comes to you. 

Magnets are a useless metaphor for whatever is happening here between you. A better comparison would be the cliche image of a moth to a flame; he’s dangerous, threatening to burn you alive, and you still find your heart fluttering after him hopelessly. You’re going to get scorned, and you’ll still never learn. You’ve fallen victim to a tired narrative that you’d rolled your eyes at in a plethora of books. How many times had you sworn that wouldn’t be you? Just how many eye rolls had you exhausted at the mere idea?

And now, here you were, on his doorstep. Grasping for something you’re not sure either of you can give. 

“I’ve been dealing with a few things,” he mutters as he shuts the door behind you, shielding you both from the chill of the night. The room is still cold, especially in his radius, “Didn’t think it would make much of a difference.” 

“You didn’t think I’d care if you just stopped calling?” you turn slowly, taking in the state of the living room. Wayne was clearly gone for the night, work most probably, and several books littered the coffee table. Eddie had been the one reading them, lounging on the couch. 

The last time you had seen him, he couldn’t even sit up in bed on his own. 

He’s keeping an unusual distance, nearly leaning back out of your vicinity, “Figured you were busy.”

He’s never been this short with you. His words are choked up, his body tense with pain. You assume it’s just his injuries bothering him.

You couldn’t be more wrong, but you’re completely unaware.

“I brought you back from the dead, and you think I’d still be too busy for you,” you laugh humorlessly, fully in disbelief at his pitiful excuse, “Eddie, we could find out Vecna didn’t really die, those damn cracks in the Earth could open right back up, and the first person I’d care about finding is you.”

The animal inside that had been yearning for his presence is satiated for now, but you can still feel it lurking in the darkest depths of your mind, ready to call out a new request at any moment. It’s the distraction that has you spilling pathetic truths. 

The only response he offers you is a dead stare. With eyes wide, pupils nearly swallowed up by darkness. 

“You could have called,” your voice cracks, body shaking with the effort not to take a step closer to him, “You could have just let me know you were still alive.”

“I-” 

He cuts himself off when he’s the one taking a step closer. His entire face twists with pain, and you give up keeping your distance. In an instant, you’re at his side as your hand reaches out for his bicep. 

He flinches away. Something inside of you burns. 

Your hand is hovering in the air between the two of you, and in this lighting, you swear the skin is still stained with the blood that won’t wash away. 

“Please don’t,” he begs, “I’m fine, but… please.”

You don’t know what he’s begging for. Distance, for you to pull your hand away, time – you don’t know what he needs. 

“We should sit down,” you insist, finally pulling your hand as far from him as possible but making no move to put the space back between you two, “Has anyone helped you with your bandages? If your wounds got infected-”

“They didn’t.”

“If you didn’t change the bandages, they definitely could have-”

“They’re not infected,” he grits out, but he’s still walking over to the couch regardless, “They’re healed.” 

Healed.

Mere weeks ago, those wounds were still deep enough to keep you from ever achieving a full night's rest. Deep enough to worry you to the core that you would wake up to them finally having consumed him. Deep enough that you all assumed it would take him months, not weeks, to recover.

“What do you mean they healed, Eddie?” you whisper, almost reaching out for him as he sits down. 

Your hand twitches, but the echoes of his begging and his flinching keep it at bay as you stand before him. 

“I mean, they healed,” he huffs, nostrils flaring as he takes deep breaths. He’s looking anywhere in the room but at you, his gaze subverting you with purpose. As though the mere sight of you, the mere proximity, is painful to him, “Don’t know how, don’t know why – they just did.” 

“So why are you still in pain?” 

A sharper intake of breath. A hush of silence falling over the apartment. Even the buzz of the building’s AC unit has faded from all your senses. It’s just you and him, and a heavy quietude like no other. 

Until he finally breaks the surface tension, breathing out, “You.” 

Your heart drops. That tug inside your chest, the one taut as you look at him right within your reach yet still so far away, almost snaps. 

“Me?”

He nods with a harsh swallow, “I- Look, I can’t explain it, but when I came back, I came back…” 

“Different?” 

He doesn’t have to explain it. You’d felt it.

The moment his eyes had opened, just moments after what should have been blissful victory. The taste of his blood heavy on your tongue, a terrible sweetness that had choked you rather than its initial metallic twang. The whispers of his voice in your mind. 

He wasn’t the only one changed from whatever had occurred that night. 

“Different is a good way of putting it,” he nods, looking up with apologetic eyes, “It’s not you. It’s cliche as fuck, but it really isn’t – it’s me. I died, and you brought me back, but I don’t think either of us knew the cost.” 

The yearning. The nightmares. The unmanageable needs. The hunger. 

“What was the cost?” 

He almost doesn’t hear you. Your voice is a whisper, tone weighed down with the curse of knowing. 

You might not have known the cost when you were pressing your palms into his chest through your wretched sobs, functioning as his heart and lungs for nearly a minute, but you think you might have a clue now. 

All that had been tethering you to him since he’d come back to you, all those webs and strings that had formed their knots around both of your necks. He’d changed, and you had plummeted right into the chasm of the unknown with him.

His blood on your tongue, sweet as honey. 

Blood shouldn’t be sweet. 

He grabs one of the books off the coffee table, motioning for you to join him on the couch. Under the weight of your realization, you’re nearly under a trance. All he has to do is wave a hand, and you follow. 

You’re at his beck and call. Just like you had been when he’d been calling out for you, yearning for you. 

“Don’t make me say it,” he mutters under his breath, tossing the book into your lap the moment you’ve sat down. This time, you’re mindful to keep your distance. 

This time, you’re painfully aware of the compromising situation the two of you have found yourselves in. 

The book is older, leather-bound and worn from years of readers’ careless hands breaking the spine. The corners of every page are weather, close to disintegration. The entire thing could easily pass for a Halloween decoration. 

It’s not. You flip open to the title page, and if Eddie didn’t appear so deathly serious at your side, you would have scoffed. 

“Dracula?” you question carefully, running a finger over the delicate script of the title, “Eddie, I don’t-”

“I’m not insane,” he interrupts you, “I’m not fucking- I swear to you. I’ve gathered up every goddamn book about it that I can. Fictional, nonfictional. Just- there’s obviously a Hell of a lot more fictional material to work with, okay?” 

A vampire. He’s convinced he’s a vampire.

And even worse – you’re convinced right along with him. 

You turn your head to look at him, trying to find the right words, but all you find is Eddie burying his face in his hands, head nearly hung between his knees. 

“I can’t eat normal food anymore,” his voice is muffled, “That was the first sign. Couldn’t stomach it, made me throw up for hours when I tried. And then all those nurses kept talking about how I was healing faster than they expected. Most of my smaller cuts – those healed in under a day,” he finally lifts his face just enough to turn and peer at you through all the stray curls that fall into his vision, “My vision and hearing were the next things I noticed. Remember how I had a nonstop migraine those first few days?” 

He doesn’t need to convince you, but the argument is compelling, “It… wasn’t a migraine.” 

He shakes his head. “Not even close. Just turns out that it’s a killer to get used to fucking superhuman night vision and impeccable hearing. I still can’t handle being out in the sun very long. I don’t… burn up or any of that shit, but… it just…” he trails off, shoulders falling in defeat before he throws himself back against the couch. When he continues, his tone is flat, devoid of all emotion, “I keep having these dreams about you, too. Bad dreams. Terrible dreams.” 

You shut the book, toss it back onto the coffee table, and decide to Hell with keeping your distance. 

You need it. Even if he’ll only allow you to get an inch closer to him, you need it. 

“What do you mean by terrible dreams?” you ask, breath catching at the end of your question as you scoot yourself closer on the couch. Even with such a small movement, Eddie is quick to notice, eyes flicking to you quickly with a sense of urgency flashing behind them. 

“Don’t,” he lowly warns. 

“What’s happening in your dreams, Eddie?” 

Another inch closer. His jaw clenches. 

“Sweetheart, do not-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Your knee bumps into his thigh, and you watch him go rigid. Hands turning to fists, eyes pinching shut and face twisting with the same pain he’d worn the ghost of when you first arrived at the apartment. 

The moment you touch him, you see it. The flashes of his nightmares, all those terrible actions haunting him every time he closed his eyes. You. Your blood. That hunger. 

Like a blackhole in the center of your stomach, it burns viciously as it sucks the air out of your lungs. It threatens to cave your entire being into itself until there’s nothing left. Not even a crumb of who you once were. 

But it's not yours. It’s Eddie’s. 

That pain on his face is only exhibiting a fraction of what he was feeling. That dizzying craving that he’d miraculously been keeping at bay since you’d simply entered the building, not even yet knocking on his door. You hadn’t even been in the same room as him yet, and he had still known. Had smelt you, had felt you. 

He could almost taste you. 

“You…” you have to shift your knee away from him, break the touch, break the connection, “You haven’t fed since you woke up.”

“I haven’t fed, period.” 

With the connection severed, he somehow finds it in himself to open his eyes once more. You don’t know how – if he’s feeling what you’d just been privy to, you’d be an incoherent mess on the floor. Something feral and unrecognizable. 

Although, maybe he was nearly there. You couldn’t see his pupils. That same look when he’d first woken up – a man swallowed whole by hunger. 

“You’ve been dreaming about ripping my throat out,” you say it as a matter of fact, not a lick of judgment in your tone. 

It wasn’t you scrutinizing him. It was what you had seen, with one simple touch. 

His voice is hoarse as he echoes in confirmation, “I’ve been dreaming about ripping your throat out.” 

You should probably be afraid. All your survival instincts should be kicking in, your feet should be carrying you towards the door, you shouldn’t be leaning in closer. 

“You know what really sealed the whole vampire ordeal though, sweetheart?” he breathes out, your eyes fluttering shut at the lull in his hushed tone. 

Just as you’ve been leaning in, he’s been slowly turning his body to face yours, hands twitching at his sides. He’s no longer retreating from your presence, sucking down breaths in harsh gulps the closer you grow to him. 

He’s losing control. You’re losing control. 

That thread, vibrant red as it draws you near him, is clear as day now. A noose around your neck. A road to your damnation. 

A road to your hunger. 

You hardly hum in response, completely entranced now. Had he ever been capable of this before? Of holding you beneath such an inescapable spell with such ease? 

Probably. 

He doesn’t use his words to answer. Instead, he finally takes the plunge. 

His head ducks down towards your neck just as his hands lose the war, grabbing onto your hips, dragging you dangerously close to him until his lips hovered just over your pulse point. And by some strength that you certainly don’t possess, he stops there. Letting his lips barely brush against your soft skin, breath coming out in pants for you to feel, to relish, to get lost in. And just as soon as those pants, those waves, become a comfortable pattern to succumb to, you feel them.

His fangs. 

Grazing over your sensitive skin. Sharp tips nipping at a surface they could so easily break, pierce with one wrong move. Your pulse is thrumming beneath the surface, heart racing painfully as Eddie’s grip turns bruising. 

Come to me. 

“Please.” 

You’re the one begging now. It goes against every rule you’ve ever seen applied in fiction. If a vampire is baring their fangs against your neck, you should be reaching for a stake. The only noise escaping you should be a scream for help, not the pathetic whimpers beginning to slip out. 

“I can’t,” you feel his gasp more than you can hear it. Your blood is too loud, roaring in your ears as you feel the fangs slip with his words, “I can’t.” 

That hunger you felt, the one that had called out to you through the night and led you right to his doorstep, is unavoidable now. You need him closer, you need him to do this. For the first time since you had saved his life and tasted his blood after the Upside Down, everything seems to click into place. All he needs to do is let them sink into you, take that final leap of faith and reprieve that ache you’ve battled for weeks now. 

You’re so close. So close. 

“Eddie, please,” you’re nearly sobbing, hands gripping onto his shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. 

But you’re no match for his strength. You don’t know if it’s a new addition with his vampire business or if there was always more to him than met the eye, but he easily stays stoic against your attempts, not moving a centimeter. Still hovering, still just barely making contact with your heartbeat. 

“I-” his head drops slightly, tip of his nose beginning to trail down the side of your neck, mouth no longer dangerously close, “You saw my dreams-”

“I trust you.” 

You do. You trust him even more now than you had when you first stumbled upon him in the boathouse. More than when he had pleaded his case, promised he hadn’t been the one to kill Chrissy Cunningham. The trust comes easier than breathing as his nose nuzzles into the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, fangs now brushing your collar bone, “You really, really shouldn’t.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you move to straddle his hips. Your weight settles onto his lap, and he only fights to keep his face burrowed there in your shoulder, arms now moving around your waist to hold you tightly to him. 

His self-control is impeccable. You’d admire him and all this impressiveness another time, when something inside of you wasn’t lamenting his resistance. 

All at once, it occurs to you how to give him the final push. 

“Did I ever tell you how sweet your blood was on my tongue after I brought you back?” you start, sighing, rolling your shoulders to expose more of your neck, grip on his shoulders tightening, “All that blood, all those tears, and I still can’t forget how welcome that warmth of you was in my mouth. How I needed more. How I pictured it every night, after every nightmare-” 

He breaks. 

One moment, his nose is buried in your skin. And the next, his fangs are. 

You weren’t sure what to expect, but relief would have been low on your list. You gasp out in initial shock, but as you feel his teeth dig in, it’s as though something has snapped. The ache has been satiated, preening as you feel the warmth of your blood contrast the chill of his chin pressing into you. 

If there’s any pain, you don’t feel it through the haze of pleasure. 

Ice shards spread through your bloodstream, but the point in which Eddie’s mouth is connected to you radiates heat. He’s pulling you into him, letting go completely and relinquishing all that control as he nearly purrs against your skin in satisfaction. That connection is back, two minds linking with a heavy click, and you can feel all his pleasure mingling with your own. Satiation, desperation, adoration – the plethora of emotions all swarm your head and block out any better judgment. 

You’d let him drain you dry, if that’s what he needed. If nothing more than to hear those soft moans as his fangs sink even deeper. 

He pulls back too soon, though, suddenly and unexpectedly. Just as quickly as he had given in to both your desires, he’s putting an end to them. He hadn’t taken much blood, but your head is swimming from the loss all the same. Your grip has gone slack on him, hands slipping down to just barely cradle his biceps while his own touch stays unyielding around you. 

You can hear his thoughts. Or rather, maybe more aptly put, you can feel them. 

He wants to devour you. Wholly, ruthlessly. 

He looks up at you with pupils still blown wide, chest heaving and a small scarlet drip trailing from the corner of his mouth. For the first time since he’d come back to you, he looks alive. Hair fluffed in a halo around his head, skin tinted with a healthy glow and unmistakable blush, bags beneath his eyes faded for the time being. 

You were never quite sure if Eddie Munson’s heart had ever restarted, knew for certain that it hadn’t now, but you swear you can feel its pulse finally thrumming for you. 

I need more. 

It’s his voice in your head, echoing in the empty space as you look down with wild eyes to match his. 

But it’s your voice in his head when you respond instantaneously. 

Then take it. 

Something unspoken lies there in the need. He doesn’t move back to your neck, doesn’t bite down and drink his fill of your blood. He only stares for a few seconds, watching the welt of blood that pools from each puncture wound of his making. His eyes follow when it runs down your skin, as though he might lose it should he so much as blink. Down, down, down. Following the trail that his nose had followed minutes before, across your collarbone until it stains the neck of your loose shirt. 

My pleasure. 

His hold proves helpful when he quickly changes positions, roughly throwing you down onto the couch before he’s settled between your thighs, crawling his way up your body. He pays close attention to the maroon trail on your throat, his tongue cleaning up after his mess, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. 

Sweet as honey. 

His tongue only pauses for a moment over the bite wound, pressing into it, making your back arch as you press yourself fully into him. Your head digs painfully into the cushion behind you as you expose your neck, wanting and begging and pleading all without words. 

“I think we should take this off,” he plucks at the hem of your shirt, tugging hard before he begins to carefully lift. His freezing knuckles brush against your burning skin, eliciting a whimper from you, “Before we make an ever bigger mess. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?” 

A sultry tone you’ve never heard from him before. Honeyed words, familiar to how he once spoke, but entirely new in the way they curl around you. There’s a confidence there, a baiting that he’s luring you with. 

“Yes, please.” 

He could ask anything of you in this moment, and you’d be eager to comply. Fueled by your desire for him before the events of spring break, worsened by his new condition. A bright, red, vibrating thread. You couldn’t severe the tie if you wanted to. 

And you most certainly did not want to. 

Your shirt is removed, his hands careful despite the way they shake. His words may be smooth, but each move is jagged, the only sign you had that he’s still exercising control. 

“And these?” he whispers, lowering his lips to your sternum as he toys with the band of your pants. His fangs scratch down the center of your stomach as it quivers with each breath, careful to not break skin as they make their presence known. You nearly lose all capability to speak until he says, “Use your words, baby. Tell me I can take them off.” 

Yes. 

His eyes flare, looking up to you, “Use your words. Not your mind. I want to hear how badly you need me – I want everyone to hear you beg.” 

The words strike straight to your core. Lashing out in your lower stomach, burning deliciously. 

It’s more than putting on a show. He needs to know you want this. 

“Take them off,” you gasp out, hands wandering to tangle in his hair, “Take- Take it all off. I’m yours, Eddie.” 

Shaking hands perform a dance you had long since fantasized about. In easier days, when Eddie had been uninvolved in the episode down, heart still beating along as he would bounce his knees in front of you and his fingers would idly fiddle with his pencils and pens. A yearning, a wanting, you’d always held for the boy. 

He used to be an escape from it all. A pretty thing to daydream about when you weren’t worried about monsters. And now – he was one of the monsters. 

Your monster. Tied to you inexplicably, brought back by your hands and your stubborn efforts. 

His lips and fangs are one in the same, trailing along your body as he finds a home at the apex between your thighs. Even in undeath, he’s the most beautiful thing your mind could conjure. 

You’d forgotten how he was privy to your every thought until he reacts.

“You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, smirking salaciously as he mouths innocently at that sensitive skin of your inner thigh, tongue darting out to lick a cool stride before he breathes out against it. It has you writhing beneath his hold, “You’ve wanted this all this time, sweetheart? Wanted to see me, between these pretty thighs, making you scream my name?” His mouth falls open a bit wider, the sharp canines pressing but not sinking against where he had just licked. He holds there, eyes locking with yours, until he pulls back to cockily say, “Could’ve just said something, y’know. Didn’t have to bring me back from the dead to have me devoted to you.” 

Finally, finally, he lets his fangs sink back into you. The soft meat of your thigh is more pliant in his mouth, and he doesn’t linger as long as he had on your neck. One nick, just enough to start the blood flow, before he’s pulling back and licking hungrily at the scarlet liquid. Less for feeding, more for marking.

Marking you as his, just as you have with him. His methods just appeared a bit more physical. 

He’s quick to avert his focus on your cunt, no warning before the tongue still covered in your blood is taking long strides over your entrance and clit. Devotion. That was the only word to describe the way he was unraveling you, alternating between indulging in your sweet cunt and returning back to that bite, going as far to even sink his teeth in a second time to take a proper drink of you. His chin and lips grow slick with it all – with the blood, with your wetness, with his own saliva. A starved man with a feast before him. 

The way he’s rutting his hips into the couch as he slings your legs over his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed. 

It’s a mess. A wonderful, satisfying, enchanting mess.

Beautiful. So beautiful, all mine. 

His voice has you teetering on an edge of new carnal pleasure. Completely consumed by him, your hands tugging viciously at his curls. His face is round once more, eyes and cheeks no longer sunken in, vitality being breathed into him with each taste of your blood. 

Let me touch you. Please.

You beg over that connection, trying your best to not buck your hips mercilessly against his tongue. You feel his wicked grin. 

“You’re already touching me, sweetheart,” he reaches up, untangling your fingers from his hair for emphasis before he’s pinning them to your sides, “And what did I say about using our words? Hm?” 

“Need more,” your voice is wrecked as you tilt your head back, wrists straining against his hold, “I need more.” 

You’re fully light-headed now, the blood loss finally catching up. Maybe you were about to let him drain you dry. 

And what a beautiful way to die. At the hand, at the fangs, of the one you had fought so urgently to bring back to you. 

One last timid lick to the wound on your thigh, and he’s crawling his way back up to you. The mess doesn't phase you as he kisses you hungrily – the blood remains sweet rather than metallic, the remnants of your juices still on his tongue – and you meet him with an unbridled fervent. Nipping at his lips with your own dull canines as if you were the one looking for a bite of vivacity. 

You don’t know when he lets go of your wrists, or when your hands find their way up beneath his shirt. The specifics don’t matter once he’s naked before you, clothes discarded messily to the ground with your own. The only thing that matters is the weight of him, the reminder that he was still here as his hips roll into yours and the head of him catches on your entrance. 

He had been dead. For minutes. And you had brought him back to you. 

The process had taken longer than the mere CPR administered, had taken weeks of whatever waiting game you two had tortured yourselves with, but you had him now. He was yours. You were his. There wasn’t a deity, a monster, an omniscient being in this world that could take that away from you. Not even Death herself. 

“Last chance, baby,” he whispers against your lips, holding himself up so that not a single inch of his skin pressed to yours. You nearly cried out, missing that connection, missing him. Your hunger, the hunger for him entirely, rattles your bones once more, “Say the word, and I’ll-”

“No,” your hands pause their exploration of skin jagged with scars. Reminders of those few dreadful moments in which the world existed without Eddie Munson in it, that would fade in time but never fully disappear. Always there, just like the stain of his blood on your palms. Always there, just like your desperation to have him at your side. “I meant it when I said I’m yours. I’m not changing my mind. I want this.” 

His skin is back on yours, body laid fully along your own road map, and it all comes flooding back. The pain of seeing his lifeless body, the nights spent in an eerie hospital room, baring your own teeth at any one who came too close to the man you had pulled back from the ledge of Death. The anxiety, the fear, the relief, the yearning – it all accumulates as he’s pressing into you, brimming you so full that there’s no room for memories of nightmares. 

He’s here. He’s yours. You’re his. 

His heart didn’t need to beat for you to accept that truth. 

You can’t decipher which chants of your name fall from his lips for others to hear, and which ones whisper in the depths of your mind for only you to bear witness to. Each curse, each grunt, each moan – there for you and only you anyways. You’re entirely unsure if your lips even separate once as he thrusts, cock brushing somewhere deep in you that has you clenching around him. 

And if his fangs wander, it only adds to the pleasure. 

Blood, sweat, and tears all mingle between your bodies. He’s holding you tighter than water, as though you’re at risk of disappearing from him at any given moment. But that link between your two minds, your two souls, is unwavering. It’s the only thing grounding you to the moment as your half curls around his waist and your heel digs into his lower back. Urging him, pressing him, taking him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says it out loud, this time. You feel his lips brushing against your ear as he does, “Gripping me so tightly. This pussy was fucking made for me.” 

Every movement only unlocks something more feral inside the two of you. Your nails rake down his back, leaving angry red lines to trace over once it’s all said and done. There’s enough shallow bite marks across your neck that you’ll be wearing scarves for weeks, months. The others might question it, strangers might stare, but the pride you feel as he marks you is unmatched for any anxiety about it. 

That black hole of hunger is no longer swallowing either of you whole. That debilitating pain, that animal inside, has been tamed. 

When his hips begin to stutter, mouth no longer capable of the strength to properly bite you as his lips only smear the soft spattering of blood pooling at the base of your throat, you’re already there. Squeezing him tightly, sucking him in, voice raw as you let everyone know who’s ravishing you. 

Eddie. 

Hawkins’ newest zombie boy – Hawkins’ newest vampire. 

The climax is just as pleasurable as the lead up. The haze lingers long after his spent has dripped out of you, long after he’s collapsed into your body with exhaustion and contentment. The blood dries, the wounds clot – but that haze doesn’t falter. 

As long as his skin presses to yours, you feel that caress of his mind against yours. 

“Did…” you’re breathless as his face nuzzles into your nude chest, a few mindless hums of gratification still slipping from him as you bring a hand to toy with the curls at the crown of his head, “Did any of your vampire books say anything about… that?”

The connection. The bloodlust. The spell you swear he still has you under, even as it’s all said and done. 

He snorts against your skin, “Not that I, uh, recall.” 

“What? You mean to tell me in all your research, you never dived into any vampire smut?” you tsk jokingly, a calm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He lifts his head, and you swear, those honey-brown irises have threads of a deep maroon now, “You’re slacking, Munson.” 

“Why read about it when I can just experience it?” he coos, letting his nose and lips drag across your still hot skin before he rests his chin on your sternum, “Besides, I mean – we’ll need to do this again, won’t we, baby? For research.” 

Your head still spins. Your body aches in a welcome manner. There will be a need for explanations to others, for actually researching his condition, later on. But for now, it’s enough. 

The pounding behind your ribcage, the one you know Eddie feels for the both of you when his ear presses to your chest, is enough. 

Of course, lover. 

That thought stays between the two of you. The world doesn’t need to know what can’t hurt them. 

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[vlrspace]

it’s always amusing for your friends to watch you and inumaki interact with each other. even though the boy looks far more timid than he actually is because of his lack of talking, he absolutely loves making you flustered.

at first, it started off with small things, like leaving sticky notes on your door early in the morning, a compliment or two written on there. it’s inumaki’s favourite sight during breakfast, you’re unable to meet his violet eyes, cheeks reddened and a cute grin plastered on your face.

or he would bring you flowers from the school’s garden. inumaki waters them, so he never gets told off for plucking out one or two flowers at least thrice a week. inumaki knows you keep them pressed between books, flattening the plants out to glue them in a scrap book (where his notes are stored too). it’s a cute sight for your friends, you always press a little peck on the soft skin of his cheek, it’s quick and innocent and he watches you with mirth as you giddily place the flowers in between the pages of your books.

since you’ve been dating inumaki, he’s hand always finds yours. nimble fingers wrap around your smaller ones with ease, but there’s so much tenderness in his hold, it makes your butterflies in your tummy do somersaults. whenever you two are out and about his hold is firm, but mainly when you two are walking through big crowds. inumaki’s thumb always soothingly moves against the back of your hand and when the two of you can’t walk side by side, he leads you in front of him, pressing a gentle peck against your forehead. that’s when your lovely classmates begin chanting the words of ‘couple goals’.

then the two of you became more intimate with touching. a hand placed on your thigh when you’re sitting next to each other and it’s the worst when you’re in your shorts. inumaki strokes your skin, his digits barely touching your skin and you can’t stop the shudders leaving your body. one time he slipped his hand farther up than usual, and squeezed your flesh, all while keeping a cool facade during dinner. you nearly moaned out loudly and your friends didn’t even tried to hide their snickers.

but the one that gets you all hot and bothered, leaving you a stuttering mess every time, is when he pulls down the collar of his uniform to kisses you.

most of the time it happens when you’re talking to one of your friends, too caught up in the conversation to process what he’s about to do. when you see inumaki walking up to you, you don’t have to see his lips to know he’s smiling, violet eyes already shining with joy. the best part (for him), is that you even make eye contact with him and realise in the last second what he’s about to do. inumaki’s already leaning close to your face, a finger coming up to pull down his collar before swiftly pressing his lips to yours.

you don’t have time to return his kiss, because it’s short and sweet and inumaki makes sure to send a little smirk your way before going back to what he was doing. anyone who witnesses this interaction, starts a round of squealing and chuckling and you just stand there, red as a tomato, breath stuck in the back of your throat and the topic of your conversation is completely washed out of your head.

and let’s not talk about the way his low voice affects you when he talks to you, but that only happens in the privacy of your rooms.

@/vlrspace, 2023

[dreamersworldduh]

UNSPOKEN TRUTHS

• Dick Grayson x Male!Reader

SUMMARY — you and Dick Grayson go way back but it’s been so many years since you two last spoke. So what happens when you two reconnect in the oddest way possible.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 7.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! firstly, THANK YOU all for the love and support for Sunday Mornings. Now, this is a long one and I may have gotten a little carried away but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy!

Dick Grayson.

There's an undeniable magnetism about Dick Grayson—an aura that makes it impossible to stay away from him, even when every instinct tells you that you should. He embodies everything that simultaneously irritates and captivates you. He's infuriatingly charming, effortlessly sociable, and devastatingly handsome. Add to that his cocky attitude and penchant for being the ultimate goofball, and you're left with a contradiction wrapped in an irresistible package.

You've known him since your very first year at Hudson University, where fate (or maybe bad luck?) had you both enrolled in the same criminology class. While you were focused on minding your own business, diligently taking notes and keeping your head down, Dick Grayson had other plans. He was the kind of guy who seemed to thrive on interaction, and apparently, you had caught his attention.

It started innocently enough. You were hunched over your notebook, furiously scribbling details from the professor's lecture, utterly engrossed. That's when Dick made his move. Leaning over with that trademark mischievous grin, he decided your focus was far too serious for his liking.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice low enough not to draw the professor's wrath but loud enough to break through your concentration.

You tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored and leave you alone. But this was Dick Grayson, and persistence was practically his middle name. He didn't just want your attention—he demanded it. Whether it was tapping on your notebook, cracking an unnecessary joke, or asking a deliberately ridiculous question about the lecture material, he seemed determined to throw you off your game.

At first, you hated him for it. Who did this guy think he was, barging into your quiet world of focus and discipline with his infuriating grin and boyish charm? But over time, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he made you laugh when you least expected it, or the fact that underneath all the cockiness, he was genuinely kind and intelligent.

Dick Grayson wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. And whether you liked it or not, he had a way of turning your world upside down.

Your friendship with Dick began as a slow bloom, nurtured by shared classes, late-night study sessions, and moments of unexpected laughter. What started as a simple camaraderie between classmates grew into an unshakable bond that lasted all four years at Hudson University. The two of you were inseparable, each other's confidant, cheerleader, and partner in crime-solving, so to speak.

By the time graduation rolled around, everyone assumed that life would pull you in different directions. With the ink barely dry on your diplomas, it seemed logical that you'd both scatter to explore the opportunities your criminology degrees offered. And for a while, it seemed like that was how the story would end. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

You eventually landed a job in Blüdhaven as a small-time investigator, the kind of work that fit your personality like a glove. Observant to a fault and driven by a relentless curiosity, you thrived in the world of puzzles and mysteries. Unraveling clues, piecing together fragments of stories, and finding answers where others saw dead ends gave you an unshakable sense of fulfillment.

But being as observant as you were had its downsides. You were the kind of person who couldn't let things go, even when every rational instinct told you to back off. That's how you found yourself in your current predicament—a missing persons case that had taken a dark and dangerous turn.

It had started innocently enough, following breadcrumbs that no one else had noticed. But as you dug deeper, you realized the case was connected to a local gang, one that didn't appreciate your meddling. Unfortunately for you, they'd noticed your snooping long before you realized you were on their radar. By the time you put the pieces together, it was too late. They had you.

The gang's leader, a stereotypical brute with a barrel chest and a growling voice to match, stood over you, barking out threats. His speeches were a predictable blend of clichés: "You should've minded your own business!" and "You don't know who you're messing with!" It would've been almost funny if the situation weren't so dire.

Despite the danger, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. You'd managed to find the missing person, even if it had landed you in chains. And now, as the leader ranted, you sat there, tied to a chair in some dingy warehouse, mentally kicking yourself for not being more careful.

Then, something caught your eye.

Out of the corner of the dimly lit room, a movement stirred in the shadows. At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. But then, you saw him—a figure dressed in sleek black and blue, moving with cat-like precision through the darkness. The gang leader, oblivious to the silent intruder, continued his tirade, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The man in the shadows was swift, almost inhumanly so. One by one, the gang members guarding the room were dispatched with precise, fluid motions. He was a blur of calculated power, blending perfectly into the gloom until he wanted to be seen. And then, he was there.

Nightwing.

You'd heard whispers of him before—Blüdhaven's vigilante protector, a myth to some, a menace to criminals. But seeing him in action was another thing entirely. His black and blue suit seemed to absorb the faint light in the room, his presence commanding yet effortless.

As chaos erupted in the warehouse, the gang leader spun around, barking orders to his panicking subordinates. You could only watch in awe—and maybe a little bit of relief—as Nightwing expertly dismantled your captors. You didn't know how or why he'd come for you, but in that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that your life was in the hands of someone who clearly knew what he was doing.

The warehouse was a symphony of chaos. Nightwing moved like a shadow come to life, his every step deliberate and his strikes landing with unerring precision. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the fluidity of his movements. He wasn't just fighting—he was dismantling. Each thug fell with a grunt or a pained yell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. The air was thick with the sharp sounds of punches landing and the dull thuds of bodies hitting the cold cement floor.

The leader, who had loomed so intimidatingly just minutes ago, now looked like a lumbering fool. He charged at Nightwing with brute force, swinging a metal pipe with the confidence of someone who had never faced someone of this caliber before. Nightwing sidestepped with ease, his movements economical and almost effortless. In a flash, the vigilante grabbed the leader's arm, twisted it with a sharp motion, and sent the weapon flying. A quick roundhouse kick to the chest sent the man sprawling onto his back with a groan of defeat.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the fight was over.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Nightwing straightened, his breathing steady despite the intense effort he'd just exerted. He surveyed the room, his sharp gaze ensuring no threats remained. The dim lighting cast a faint glow on his black-and-blue suit, accentuating the imposing figure he cut. You couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe, even as your pulse raced from the ordeal.

Finally, his focus shifted to you. His stride was purposeful, his boots barely making a sound as he crossed the distance. He crouched beside you, the sharp angles of his mask now just inches from your face. His hands, encased in black gloves, moved swiftly, slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a gentle concern that caught you off guard. His eyes—calm, steady, and searching—met yours briefly, and in that moment, the hostage trembling nearby seemed like an afterthought.

You swallowed hard, your voice shaky as you replied, "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

As he helped you to your feet, his hand lingered on your arm, steadying you. It was a small gesture, but it sent a jolt through you. Those eyes. Brown, warm, and so achingly familiar. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as realization struck.

"Dick?" you whispered, the name escaping your lips before you could stop yourself.

He stiffened, the subtle movement confirming what you already knew. His head turned slightly, his gaze flicking to the hostage, who was watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes. His silence said everything.

You bit your lip, realizing your mistake. Swallowing your questions, you forced yourself to focus. The hostage needed to be taken care of, and this wasn't the time or place for the confrontation brewing in your mind.

"Thank you," the hostage managed to stammer, their voice shaky. Nightwing gave them a curt nod, his usual confidence slipping back into place as he offered them a reassuring glance.

Moments later, the sound of sirens filled the air, the flashing red and blue lights of the approaching police cars spilling into the warehouse. Officers rushed in, taking the gang into custody and escorting the hostage to safety. Meanwhile, you stayed put, standing just outside the chaos as the adrenaline slowly ebbed from your system.

Nightwing lingered, his posture tense but his presence solid and unwavering. It was clear he was waiting—perhaps for the right moment, or perhaps for you.

"You're not leaving," you said, stepping closer to him with a sharpness in your tone that surprised even you. "Good. Because we need to talk."

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. Still, you caught the faintest hint of unease in his posture. He knew what was coming.

As the last of the police cars pulled away, leaving the two of you bathed in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp, you finally allowed yourself to say what had been clawing at you.

"It is you," you said softly, the weight of the realization settling over you. "Dick Grayson."

Nightwing let out a soft, resigned sigh. Without a word, he reached up, his gloved fingers curling around the edges of his mask. In one smooth motion, he pulled it away, revealing the face you'd known for years.

The sight of him hit you like a wave. His dark hair was slightly tousled, damp with sweat, and those familiar brown eyes stared back at you with a mix of guilt and apprehension.

"Hi," he said, his voice quiet but steady, as if testing the waters.

You stared at him, struggling to untangle the mess of emotions inside you. Shock, anger, confusion, and something else—something softer—swirled in your chest. "You've been here," you said finally, your voice trembling. "In Blüdhaven. This whole time. And you didn't tell me?"

"It's not that simple," he replied, his tone gentle but laced with regret. "I wanted to. I just... couldn't."

You huffed, crossing your arms as you glared at him. "You're not getting out of this, Dick. We're talking about it. All of it."

A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, he almost looked like the carefree friend you remembered from Hudson University. "Yeah," he said softly. "I figured as much."

The weight of the moment hung heavy between you, unspoken questions lingering in the air. There was so much to say, so much you needed to understand, but for now, the two of you simply stood there, the silence stretching like an unspoken promise.

Soon, the two of you arrived at Dick's apartment, the closest and most convenient place to regroup. The space was warm and inviting, a surprising contrast to the gritty chaos of the warehouse you'd just escaped. Dick excused himself to change out of his vigilante uniform, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and his belongings.

It wasn't long before your curiosity got the better of you. Old habits die hard, and you found yourself wandering the apartment, taking in the details. The first thing you noticed was how organized it was compared to his dorm back in college. Gone were the piles of laundry and cluttered desks; everything here had its place. The sleek, minimalist decor hinted at someone who valued function over flair, though the occasional personal touch softened the aesthetic.

There were pictures scattered around, mostly in simple frames. You stopped to study them, recognizing some of the faces from news articles and social media posts. These must be his siblings. During college, Dick had rarely talked about his family, offering only vague hints that he was adopted and that his adoptive father was extremely wealthy. Back then, the extent of his family's resources was evident in the way he casually splurged—never obnoxiously, but like the carefree college student who'd buy a round of shots for half the campus without a second thought.

Your gaze lingered on a particular photo, and your breath caught. It was a picture of you and Dick, taken during a Christmas party in your junior year. The two of you stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe, your face frozen in an exaggeratedly annoyed expression as he planted a kiss on your cheek. But you remembered that moment vividly. You remembered how fast your heart had raced, how flustered you'd felt, and how you'd struggled to keep your reaction under control. Out of all the pictures you'd taken together, you couldn't believe he'd kept this one.

The sound of his voice startled you from your thoughts.

"You know, this is exactly how you got yourself captured the first time," Dick said, his tone tinged with amusement.

You turned sharply, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe. He was dressed in a navy blue tank top that revealed the lean, athletic build beneath, his arms toned from years of training. Loose-fitting gray joggers hung low on his hips, offering a distracting peek at his defined waistline. For a moment, your thoughts betrayed you, wandering where they shouldn't. You quickly shook the imagery from your mind and refocused, gesturing toward the picture in question.

"Why this picture?" you asked, pointing at the frame.

Dick stepped closer, glancing at the photo with a soft smile. "It's my favorite of us," he admitted, his voice light but honest.

Your chest tightened. You stared at him, studying the way his expression softened as he looked at the photo, as though it held a special place in his memory. You remembered that night clearly, but you'd never imagined it meant as much to him as it had to you.

"You don't even like Christmas," you teased, trying to deflect the sudden wave of emotion threatening to surface.

He shrugged, turning to you with a playful grin. "True. But I like you."

The simplicity of his statement made your heart skip a beat. He said it so casually, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, yet the weight of those words hung heavy in the air between you. You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

"Dick..." you began, your voice faltering.

"Don't overthink it," he said, his grin fading into something softer. "I just... like having a reminder of how happy we were. That's all."

You looked back at the photo, the moment frozen in time, and then at him. For all the chaos that had led to this point, standing here with him now, it was hard to deny that something about this moment felt right.

The dining room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen. You leaned against the chair, arms crossed, watching as Dick moved to the table where a stack of papers sat in disarray. His movements were deliberate but lacked his usual confidence, as though he were stalling for time.

“So,” you began, your tone cutting through the silence, “I’m guessing things have been rough if you decided to change careers. Last we talked, you were dead set on becoming a cop. It was literally all you could talk about.”

You turned to face him fully, your words sharp but not without curiosity. Dick froze for a moment, his shoulders tensing before he turned his head slightly toward you.

“That’s still in the works,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

“Yeah?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow as you pointed to the table. “You mean with those blank applications over there?”

Dick followed your gaze to the stack of untouched forms on the dining room table. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he sighed, running a hand through his hair as if that would somehow untangle the thoughts swirling in his head.

“You don’t understand, Y/N…” he started, but you weren’t about to let him finish.

“I may not be a crime-fighting vigilante in spandex,” you interrupted, stepping closer and folding your arms tightly across your chest, “but I do know you can’t keep putting your life on hold like this. Blüdhaven isn’t Gotham, Dick. You don’t have to be out there night and day. It’s not your responsibility to carry this city on your back.”

He turned to face you fully now, his jaw set. “I also run my own team, you know,” he pointed out, his tone firm but not without frustration.

“Okay, and?” you replied, your voice rising slightly. “I’m thankful for what you did tonight—for me, for that hostage, for everyone you help. But come on, Dick. You can’t just live for this. You should have a life outside of your nighttime activities and team leadership. You deserve more than this relentless grind.”

His hands clenched briefly at his sides, and then he threw them up in exasperation. “I did!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I did have that life. Four years, Y/N. Four years of normalcy. School, friends… you.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a freight train. He wasn’t done.

“I fell in love with you, for god’s sake,” he continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. “But I knew—deep down—I couldn’t hold onto that. I couldn’t keep living in a reality that wasn’t mine to have.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly still. You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar, his words ricocheting in your mind.

“You… fell in love with me?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Dick looked at you, his expression vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. His usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw and honest.

“I never stopped,” he admitted quietly, his gaze unwavering.

The weight of his confession hung heavily in the air, but before Dick could react, reality struck you like a lightning bolt. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the room, startling you both.

“You waited four years to tell me you’re in love with me?” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of frustration, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Dick blinked in surprise, his cheek barely reddened from the slap. He raised a hand to rub at it, murmuring, “Ow.” Though you knew it hadn’t actually hurt him—your slap had been more for dramatic effect than anything else—it still made him flinch slightly.

“You know,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperated humor, “it took a lot of courage to admit this. I mean, at first, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling. But the more I got to know you…” He paused, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “I was whipped. Everyone knew how protective I was of you.”

“Clearly not everyone,” you shot back, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

Dick tilted his head, his expression softening with that boyish charm that always seemed to disarm you. “That’s because you were always so oblivious to things,” he pointed out, a teasing edge in his tone.

“This isn’t about me,” you retorted, your frustration flaring again. “This is about you—about you waiting years to—”

Before you could finish, Dick’s hands moved with startling quickness, cupping your face as he leaned in, cutting you off completely. His lips crashed onto yours, silencing your protests in an instant.

Your first instinct was to resist, your mind screaming at you to stay angry, to push him away and demand answers. But the moment his lips moved against yours, warm and insistent, your anger began to dissolve like sugar in water. His touch was firm but not forceful, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into that kiss.

Damn him.

Your hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, slowly lowered to his chest, resting against the fabric of his tank top. You wanted to be mad, to hold onto your indignation, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him. His lips were soft yet commanding, and they melted away every ounce of tension in your body.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. His brown eyes, now so close, bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. There was an undeniable hunger in them, a raw and unguarded lust, but beneath it was something deeper, something that spoke of years of unspoken feelings and restraint finally breaking free.

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with tension as he leaned in closer, his forehead still brushing against yours. His hands, which had been gently cupping your face, slid down to your jaw, his thumbs tracing soft, maddeningly slow circles on your skin.

“I want to make love to you so bad,” Dick whispered, his voice husky and low, the words trembling with emotion. “But I want to do this right.”

The warmth of his breath tickled your lips as he spoke, and the sheer vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. Yet the weight of those words, so raw and sensual, sent a jolt of arousal through you. You felt your body react instantly, your breath hitching as your dick tightened in response.

You had never heard anything like this from him before—such a delicate balance of sweetness and longing, spoken with the kind of confidence that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His voice wasn’t just sexual; it was reverent, like he was making a promise wrapped in desire.

Your hands rested against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tank top as you tried to steady yourself. The warmth of his body beneath your touch only heightened the tension, and you struggled to form a coherent thought, let alone words.

“Dick…” you finally managed, though it came out as little more than a breathless murmur.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze darkened with an intensity that made it clear just how much he wanted you—but he didn’t move, waiting for your response. Waiting for you to meet him halfway. And in that moment, the depth of his restraint only made you want him more.

“I want you to make love to me,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze. The words hung in the air for a moment, electrifying the space between you.

Dick’s eyes darkened instantly, the flicker of hesitation replaced by raw desire and unrestrained passion. That was all he needed. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, crashing against yours with a fury that made your knees weak.

The kiss was nothing like the soft, tentative one from earlier. This was urgent, consuming, as though he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t contain himself any longer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The heat of his chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heart pounding as wildly as your own.

You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with an intensity that made you shiver. His fingers trailed up your back, one hand tangling in your hair while the other held your waist, anchoring you to him.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, sliding over the smooth, warm skin exposed by his tank top. You clutched at him, your fingers curling into the fabric as you felt his muscles flex beneath your touch. He kissed you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, pouring every ounce of his suppressed longing into it.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and swollen from the sheer intensity. His forehead pressed against yours as he steadied himself, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse, though the look in his eyes made it clear how much he wanted you.

You nodded, your hands sliding down his chest to rest against his waist. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed to hear before his lips were on yours again, this time softer but no less passionate, as if he wanted to savor every second of what was about to happen.

Dick’s lips moved from yours with deliberate, unhurried precision, trailing a path along your jawline before finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The contrast between his soft kisses and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent a shiver coursing down your spine.

When he finally found your sweet spot just below your ear, your breath hitched sharply, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound seemed to spur him on, his lips lingering as he alternated between gentle kisses and slow, teasing nibbles.

Your hands, which had been resting lightly against his waist, tightened instinctively. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his joggers, pulling him closer, needing to feel the heat radiating from his body. The firmness of his waist beneath your touch grounded you even as your head tilted back slightly, offering him more access.

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His arms wrapped around you more securely, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other pressed against the small of your back, holding you flush against him.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough. The combination of his words and his lips on your skin was overwhelming, igniting an firm erection in your dick that made it impossible to think of anything but him.

Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling against his as you surrendered completely to the sensations. Every press of his lips, every soft graze of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you, and you couldn’t help but cling to him even tighter.

“Dick,” you breathed, his name spilling from your lips in a way that was half plea, half encouragement. His response was a low, approving growl that made your knees go weak, but his strong arms kept you firmly in place.

Dick’s hands slid down your sides, lingering for a moment at your hips before they gripped your thighs firmly. In one fluid motion, he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His strength, always impressive but now impossibly intimate, sent a shiver through you.

Your arms clung to his shoulders for balance as he held you close, your chest pressed against his. His lips captured yours again, and the kiss was slow but no less hungry, his steps steady as he carried you toward the darkly dim room down the hall.

Normally, your inquisitive nature would have taken over, and you’d have surveyed every inch of the space. But right now, your attention was consumed by him—by the heat of his body, the way his fingers flexed against your thighs, and the electric connection between you.

The faint glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls as he entered the room. You barely registered the surroundings, focusing instead on the way his breathing had quickened, mirroring your own. He reached the bed, lowering you carefully to the floor with a tenderness that made your chest tighten.

His hands lingered on your hips as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze burning with unspoken desire and reverence. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm against your skin as he lifted it over your head. He took his time, his eyes roaming over you like he was memorizing every detail.

Your breath hitched as he began to undress himself, his movements fluid and unhurried. His tank top came off first, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat on his skin. His joggers followed, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands moved instinctively to his waist, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you gently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone.

His hands returned to you, sliding along your sides with deliberate slowness before slipping beneath the waistband of your own boxers, guiding them down. The intimacy of the moment made your pulse race, every inch of skin he revealed heightening the tension between you.

Now, with both of you standing there, bare except for the thin fabric separating you completely, the air felt charged, heavy with anticipation. Dick’s eyes locked onto yours, his expression a perfect blend of lust and something deeper, something that made your heart pound harder than ever before.

Dick’s hands wrapped around your dick with deliberate care, his grip firm yet gentle. The slow, teasing movements of his fingers as he stroked you sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. His eyes stayed locked on yours, their intensity leaving you breathless. He watched your every reaction, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as soft moans began to spill from your lips.

The sound seemed to embolden him, as if each moan was a symphony only he could conduct. He leaned closer, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Before you could process what was happening, he guided you backward, gently pushing you onto the mattress.

The soft surface cradled you as you fell, the world around you blurring into insignificance. All that mattered was him—his touch, his gaze, his presence. Dick climbed onto the bed, settling himself between your legs with a confidence that made your pulse race.

His hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly but not aggressively as he spread your legs slightly wider. The warmth of his palms was grounding, his touch both possessive and reverent. His eyes never left yours, a silent question hanging in the air, one you answered with a slight nod and a quiet, shaky breath.

Leaning forward, he placed a featherlight kiss just below your navel before lowering himself further. The sensation of his tongue grazing your dick made your back arch slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. He didn’t stop there—his tongue trailed down with slow, deliberate strokes before his lips closed around you completely.

The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, his movements skilled and calculated. He alternated between slow, torturous licks and firm, rhythmic suction, drawing louder moans from you with each passing second. The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, mingling with his soft hums as he worked.

Just as you thought the sensations couldn’t intensify, you felt something new. His hand, which had been resting on your thigh, moved downward, his fingers tracing teasing circles near your hole. The first press of his fingertip was gentle, testing, and when he felt your body relax, he slid a single finger inside with the same care.

The combination of his mouth and the intrusion sent a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and your moans grew louder, higher, uncontrollable. Your hands instinctively reached for him, one tangling in his hair as the other clutched at the sheets beneath you.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his brown eyes dark with desire, a glint of satisfaction evident as he took in the sight of you unraveling beneath him. He added a slight curl to his finger, hitting a spot that made your entire body tremble. The way your voice broke with pleasure was like fuel to him, and he redoubled his efforts, his lips and fingers moving in perfect harmony to push you further toward the edge.

The only thing you could do was surrender to him completely, your mind and body consumed by the intensity of the sensations he was creating.

The sudden press of a second finger into your hole sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, a sharp moan escaping your lips at the unexpected intrusion. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your chest rising and falling as Dick’s fingers moved inside you with increasing speed. Each curl and thrust was precise, hitting spots that made your back arch off the mattress in ecstasy.

The heat pooling in your hole was overwhelming, your breath coming in short gasps as you struggled to keep up with the rhythm he was setting. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of control, his fingers stopped abruptly and slid out, leaving you gasping at the loss of contact.

“Why did you—” you began, your voice breathless and laced with confusion, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes traveled down to him.

Dick had shifted back slightly, his hands hooking into the waistband of his boxers. With deliberate slowness, he slid them down his hips, his eyes never leaving yours. As the fabric pooled at his knees, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched at the sight before you.

His dick was fully revealed, and he was… well, impressively endowed. Huge as hell. The dim light of the room cast shadows that only emphasized his size and shape, and for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The anticipation in the air was electric, and the confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips told you he noticed your reaction.

“You were saying?” he teased softly, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Your mouth opened to reply, but no words came. Instead, your eyes flickered back up to meet his, and the hunger in his gaze made your stomach flip. He moved closer, his hands returning to your thighs, gently spreading them wider as he leaned over you, his bare skin brushing against yours. The weight of him above you, combined with the heat radiating from his body, sent your pulse racing again.

“You trust me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice a mix of tenderness and desire.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

His smile softened for a moment, a flicker of something deeper crossing his expression before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an invitation.

Dick broke the kiss, his breath warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly. His eyes stayed locked on yours, filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Reaching over to his dresser, he grabbed a small bottle of lube, his movements deliberate but steady.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing a reassuring circle against your hip.

You nodded, your anticipation building as he popped the cap. The cool gel landed on your hole, and you squirmed at the sudden chill, a soft gasp escaping your lips. Dick chuckled lightly at your reaction, his hands smoothing over your thighs to steady you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he worked the lube gently around your hole. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, his touch careful and precise.

Once he was satisfied, he coated himself in the gel, his large hands moving confidently as he spread it over his dick. The sight alone made your heart race, but before you could get lost in the thought, he tossed the bottle somewhere across the room with a soft thud, refocusing entirely on you.

His hands returned to your waist, gripping you firmly but gently as he positioned himself between your legs. The weight of his gaze anchored you, and you took a deep breath as you felt the head of his dick press against your hole.

“This might feel a little intense at first,” he warned, his voice husky but tender. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”

You nodded again, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as he began to push forward slowly. The stretch was immediate, his size making you wince slightly as your body adjusted. Dick paused, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re doing amazing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before trailing down to your cheek.

He continued inching forward, his movements measured and deliberate, giving you time to adjust with each small push. By the time he was fully seated inside you, your breaths were coming in shallow gasps, but you could feel the tension in your body beginning to ease.

Dick stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. His hands moved up to cradle your face as he kissed you softly, his lips tender and warm. “You feel so damn good,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his words laced with affection as he peppered your skin with soft touches. His hands stroked your sides gently, grounding you while his lips worked to soothe any lingering discomfort.

“You’re everything,” he added, his voice low and filled with emotion, as though each word was meant to make you feel as cherished as possible.

The warmth of his presence, the tenderness of his touch, and the sincerity in his words made it impossible not to relax completely. Your body adjusted to him, the initial discomfort fading into something far more intimate and fulfilling.

Dick’s thrusts began slow and deliberate, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he slid in and out of your hole. Each thrust was careful, as if he were gauging your every reaction, ensuring you were comfortable. The initial stretch had given way to a new sensation—fullness that sent sparks of pleasure radiating through you with every deliberate motion.

Your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles whitening as you let out a shaky moan. The heat building in your core only intensified as Dick’s strokes grew deeper, his pace gradually increasing. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to anchor you but not hurt. He adjusted his angle slightly, and the next thrust hit a spot that made your back arch off the mattress and a louder moan escape your lips.

“That’s it,” Dick murmured, his voice a deep, encouraging rasp that sent shivers through your body. “Let me hear you.”

Your moans grew more unrestrained as his movements became more confident, each stroke deeper and more precise than the last. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin adding to the growing intensity. The sound of your bodies moving together—his labored breathing, your gasps, the rhythmic creak of the mattress—filled the dimly lit room, creating an atmosphere of pure intimacy.

“Dick,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips as the pleasure built higher. His response was a low groan, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. His lips were warm, insistent, and grounding, keeping you tethered to him even as your body felt like it might unravel from the sensations he was creating.

Every thrust felt like a wave crashing through you, each one pulling you further under, until all you could do was cling to him and let him take you where he wanted.

“Say it again,” Dick whispered in your ear, his voice low and full of need. His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his breath hot against your skin. “Say my name.”

“Dick,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another thrust sent a wave of pleasure surging through you. “Ugh, Dick—”

He growled softly at the sound of his name on your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you up from the bed. In one fluid motion, he shifted, sitting back on his knees with you straddling him. Your legs remained tightly wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed together as his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him.

You didn’t need any encouragement. Your body took over, moving instinctively as you began to rise and fall along his dick. Each motion sent him deeper inside you, filling you completely, and your moans grew louder, spilling into his ear with every movement.

The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the heat, the way his hands gripped your hips to guide you as you moved. But before another moan could escape, Dick silenced you with a kiss. His lips crashed into yours, passionate and demanding, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion and desire. “I love you so fucking much.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, your heart racing as you whimpered in response. “I love you too, Dick. I love you.”

The rhythm between you grew faster, more desperate, as your body tightened around him. The pleasure was building, an unstoppable crescendo that left you trembling in his arms. You buried your face in his neck, gasping out, “I’m close. Faster, baby. Please.”

His lips brushed your ear as he chuckled softly, his voice deep and intoxicating. “As you wish.”

With that, he tightened his grip on your hips and thrust upward with renewed intensity, meeting each of your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breathing and the steady slap of your bodies moving together. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life.

Dick’s lips found yours again, his kisses feverish and consuming as he whispered words of love and encouragement between each kiss.

Your entire body tensed as the pleasure reached its peak, and you let out a cry of pure bliss, your climax washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Dick’s thrusts didn’t falter for a moment. If anything, they became more relentless, each one deeper and more deliberate than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his body pressing firmly against yours as his rhythm quickened. The telltale tension in his muscles and the soft groans spilling from his lips signaled that he was nearing his own climax, but he didn’t let up.

His lips never left your skin, moving from your mouth to your neck and back again, as though grounding himself in the intimacy of the moment. Each kiss was full of raw passion, his lips trailing heat and leaving you breathless.

“You feel so good,” Dick murmured against your ear, his voice strained and low. “So perfect.”

The intensity of his thrusts made it impossible to form coherent words. Your body arched instinctively, your hands clutching at his back as he held you tightly against him. You could feel his grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging in slightly as his movements became more erratic, more desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, your name rolling off his tongue in a deep, guttural tone that sent shivers through you.

A moment later, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips pressing flush against yours as he reached his breaking point. The warmth of his release filled you, a rush of heat that made you gasp. His head fell against your shoulder, his breath ragged as he rode out the waves of his climax, his body trembling slightly against yours.

Even then, his lips continued their tender assault, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder and up to your neck. His voice was a low whisper, almost inaudible over the sound of your labored breathing.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d hit you,” you breathed out, your voice heavy with exhaustion but tinged with playful annoyance.

Dick chuckled, his warm breath ghosting over your neck as he pressed a soft kiss to your skin. “Why?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. “What did I do this time?”

“You robbed me of four years of amazing sex,” you replied matter-of-factly, shooting him a tired glare that only made him laugh harder.

His laughter was rich and unrestrained, his chest vibrating against yours as he leaned back just enough to lift his head from your neck. His gaze locked onto yours, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. Without warning, he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate and full of promise that it left you breathless all over again.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was wicked, and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started,” he said, his hand sliding down your side possessively. “I hope you don’t have plans in the morning.”

You barely had time to process the meaning of his words before his lips were on you again, igniting another round of passion that carried you both well into the night.

By the time morning rolled around, the two of you were sprawled on the floor of his living room, completely spent. The apartment bore the evidence of your nocturnal escapades: furniture slightly askew, scattered pillows, and discarded clothes littering the space. The air was still faintly warm from the fire you’d burned through the night.

Dick’s strong arms were wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, your breaths soft and even against his skin. His chin rested gently atop your head, and both of you wore blissful smiles as the sunlight began to filter through the curtains.

The world outside was quiet, but in that moment, everything felt perfectly complete. There, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared intimacy, you both slept peacefully, content in a way you hadn’t been in years.

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 4

Part 3

Request from @gojodeluluwifeu

Yuuji Itadori slowly awoke. With only the flames of several candles to illuminate this prison-like room with paper seals, he almost felt like a doomed protagonist in a horror movie. For better or worse, he had a companion sitting across from him.

Satoru Gojo wore a nonchalant, expectant grin. “Yo.”

“You are… !” The memories of the monster attack hit him like a train and he fussed around in his seat, soon realizing that his arms were bound behind him. He whipped his head towards Gojo. “Where is my sister? What happened to my friends? Are they still alive–”

“Hm, you’re not really in a position to be worrying about other people. Actually, you know what, I guess we should talk about your sister. Though I already know she’s just a neighbor.”

“Huh?”

Gojo pulled out a tablet and opened a file for Yuuji to see. At first glance it appeared to be your resume, as it had a 2x2 ID photo of you in formal wear and your basic information written right next to the image, but the more Yuuji read, he realized that it was far more terrifying than a simple resume. 

Gojo used his finger to scroll down the document, which had to be around fifty pages at least. “Age, birth place, height and weight… even her three measurements are here.”

Yuuji stomped his feet. “Why do you–”

Gojo turned the tablet around and began to read, “No clubs or extracurriculars. All her grades are either slightly below or slightly above the school average. Only two instances of getting called to office, once in middle school, and again in high school, both times were because teachers suspected that she was being bullied, but both times she told the adults involved ‘not to worry’ and that she ‘just doesn’t like socializing.’ 

Other notes from previous teachers were similar: ‘That kid was always quiet, never caused trouble,’ ‘She doesn’t seem to be hated but no one ever approaches her… she doesn’t approach anyone either,’ ‘I don’t know if she’s shy or maybe she really likes her space, either way, she won’t go far in life if she keeps to herself like this,’ ‘She never skipped class, though whenever she called in to say that she couldn’t come it was due to a family emergency,’ hm…

Her classmates and former employers didn’t have much to say about her, too. They kept using the same words: ‘keeps to herself,’ ‘doesn’t cause trouble but doesn’t talk either,’ ‘I don’t remember much about her,’ uwah–there is even a detailed calendar here full of her class and work schedules. Let’s see… apparently she missed school whenever you or your grandfather were sick or hospitalized. Same thing with her part-time jobs.” 

Gojo read on, nodding his head.

“Ichiji is surprisingly talented at this. It’s almost creepy.”

“Wait! What’s going on? Why do you have records on Y/N-nee?!”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“???”

“According to the other people in your neighborhood, you’re not blood-related and she’s not even your step-sister or adoptive sister, she’s literally just the girl from next door. And you’ve heard the things other people have to say about her, there is nothing special about that person. If anything, she has to be one of the most boring people I know.”

“Don’t insult her! S-sure she’s quiet and doesn’t like interacting beyond the bare minimum, but towards me she’s kind and selfless and even a bit overprotective! She’s not perfect but she’s not boring or average or horrible!”

“... Do you know what happened to her parents?”

If he were thinking more clearly, Yuuji would’ve kept his mouth shut but he was furious and couldn’t help himself. “They’re abroad. They send money regularly but Nee-chan has always been alone in that house. That’s why grandpa and I let her sleep over sometimes. She’s always been…alone.” Wait. Yuuji scrunched his eyebrows. Alone? That can’t be right.

“‘They’re abroad,’ is what she said to you.”

“That’s right.”

“Itadori, there are no records of her parents ever leaving the country.”

“Well, you’re wrong. Grandpa said that she told us that the first day we met her.”

“Hm. Itadori-kun, do you recall the date that you moved in with your grandfather?”

Yuuji didn’t remember much about his childhood before his grandfather, the two of them have always been together for as long as he could remember. It was the same with you. Always together…

Gojo showed him a page from the tablet. It was an affidavit of ownership. “Before that, let me ask you, do you know whose house your ‘sister’ used to live in? The one next to your grandfather’s.” 

“What kind of question is that? Obviously it belonged to her–her parents, of course. That’s her last name.” 

“This house belongs to a family with the last name L/N. But look here.” Gojo scrolled down and showed a picture of a family of five. There was a father, a mother, two young boys in middle school, a boy no older than two, and a dog. “This photo was taken back in 2003, a year before your birthday. They’re the only family members who lived in that house.”

“So? She’s probably a distant relative.”

Gojo shook his head. “We actually asked the other neighbors. Everyone also believes that she’s some cousin from the province. But it’s strange that you all believed that she belonged to that family when no one should be living there in the first place.”

“You just said that that family owned it.”

“Yup, you’re right, they owned that house.”

Yuuji blinked. What?

“I hope you have a tough stomach.” Gojo scrolled down. 

Yuuji’s stomach stirred and he bent over as far as his bondage would allow him. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry. He refused to look up, the image of those poor parents hugging their children will forever be burned in his memory. “Why are you showing me this?”

“This L/N family was brutally murdered on the night of **** **, ****.”

“That… that’s…

“That’s the same date your grandfather took you in, isn’t it?”

Yuuji doesn’t remember it himself, but his grandfather told him once and you often mentioned that date when you brought up his toddler days. 

He reluctantly opened his mouth. “Did… did she…” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even think about it. Memories of you smiling, laughing, taking care of him and grandpa, and welcoming him home flooded Yuuji’s senses. 

“Ah,” Gojo interrupted, “she didn’t kill them if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Eh?”

“The doggie bit one of the burglars. Hard. And she bit him in the *ahem* boxers. He and his partner were caught almost immediately.” Gojo showed him the mug shots.

Yuuji: ??????

“She had nothing to do with this murder, but after the funeral, the house was bought immediately. After further investigation, we discovered that it was bought under a fake name. She was a child when the land was purchased, but it couldn’t have been her parents, and there are no signs of other people having lived there other than her. Not to mention, the whole neighborhood bought into her lie that she was a visiting cousin. Isn’t that odd?”

Odd? Major understatement. There were many holes. Number one thing was that no one seemed to remember the murders. Even if it was fifteen years ago, Yuuji would’ve heard of it, if not for his grandfather then from the other kids. Children love horror stories after all. And yet…

“You’re telling me that…Nee-chan has been sleeping, eating and bathing in a murder house?”

“Well, I assure you, there are no curses or ghosts in that area. Luckily, the family passed on without any grudges, perhaps because they were with each other when they died? Anyway, normal humans have no way of knowing that the house is clean. Usually, unless you’re dirt poor or an idiot, you would never even consider living in a potentially haunted house.”

“That’s…!” Yuuji stopped himself. “Wait. What did you mean earlier that her parents couldn’t have possibly bought the house?”

Gojo tilted his head. “Because they’re dead.”

He presented an old newspaper article. It was dated a few weeks before the family’s death. The headline read: COUPLE FOUND DEAD IN THEIR OWN HOME, ***-OLD DAUGHTER NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

“The bodies were described as having been ‘torn apart from the inside,’ but there were no weapons that fit the wounds. There was only a large puddle of water soaking the corpses… ‘Based on testimonies from neighbors, the couple were suspected of abusing their daughter, whose current whereabouts remain unknown. It is likely that she has been kidnapped.’” Gojo glanced at him. “You get it, right? The couple mentioned here are Y/N’s birth parents. They lived in a rural area with a town population of less than 5000. They don’t even have a convenience store–or a mall. Ouch.”

Gojo looked at Yuuji. “The murder itself was brutal but it never reached national news. Still, a lot of things don’t add up.”

“...I-if they’re dead then…” then why did you act like they were still alive and well? How could you smile and walk around as if everything was fine?

“Well, anyway, those things are minor.”

“Hah?!” Minor?!

“The crux of the matter is this: you ate a finger of a cursed spirit known as Ryomen Sukuna, and he called Y/N his wife. Not to mention, just before passing out, she called you her child.”

“...!”

“From what I can tell, Sukuna seems to treasure her a lot, and yet there is nothing about her background that points to her being any more special than the average Jane. What are you? And what is your relationship with that woman?”

Yuuji gritted his teeth. ‘That woman’ was his precious older sister, who took care of him when Grandpa was at work, who cleaned up his wounds when he got hurt playing, who loved him so much she couldn’t stand by as a monster attacked him.

“She…”

***

Over a decade ago, in a tiny house by the foot of a mountain, you watched as gigantic icicles–bigger than yourself–tear through your mother. She was arguing with your father, who was now on the floor, gasping and clutching at his chest. He too had large pieces of jagged ice pierced all over him. 

When he caught you in the corner, a wry grin made its way to his face, that was the only time you ever saw a semblance of a smile from him. He reached out his arm towards you. “H-hurry up, c…call s-s-someone–ARGH!” 

The hand reaching out to you was cut by a blade of ice. 

He squirmed and screamed before another cold knife cut his face in half. The kitchen fell silent. 

At that time, did you feel afraid? Did you feel sad? You couldn’t remember.

“This servant deeply apologizes for being so late.” A handsome woman, or maybe they were a pretty man, stepped out of the shadows and walked towards you. 

The doll-like person with snow white skin and wearing traditional clothes knelt down. They offered you a small smile. “I offer my greetings to the madam.”

“...are you… going to kill me, too?”

He shook his head. “This servant would never.”

“Then…” 

“I came here to ensure that you were living peacefully until the lord’s return, but regretfully, even in this life you are treated like this. I tried to make them suffer before dying, but my temper has gotten the best of me. This servant apologizes.”

The person said things you didn’t understand, but you at least knew this much: they weren’t going to hurt you. 

“My lady, I’m afraid you can’t live here anymore.”

The beautiful, doll-like creature that introduced themselves as “Uraume” packed what few materials that belonged to you and led you away. Their skin was colder than the air of a fridge, yet you never felt more safe and warm than when they held your hand on the way to your new abode.

“Uraume-san–”

“Please just call me ‘Uraume,’ my lady, this servant doesn’t dare to be referred to in any other way.”

“R-right. Uraume, you said that I will be living in a different neighborhood.”

“Yes. I handled everything. Though humans have evolved into being more efficient, the paperwork was too much.”

“Will I be living alone?”

They gave you a sad smile. “It would be the highest honor to wait on the lady, but I still have much to prepare for Sukuna-sama’s arrival.”

“Sukuna…sama?”

“He has never tired of searching for you, I’m sure he will be very happy to know that you are now safe and well.”

“Does that mean… that he cares for me?”

Their eyes seemed to sparkle. “Such words are too light to describe the weight of his feelings. Sukuna-sama has devoted every part of himself to you. When you died, he never remarried, and when other sorcerers or village chiefs offered him brides, he would slaughter them all without hesitation. He was especially mad when the women looked like you in any way, be it height, skin color or hair color. This servant personally put their severed heads on poles to be displayed for all to see as a warning. One time, he…”

You didn’t really get it. This person spouted out a lot of information that you didn’t grasp, like a hardcore fan talking about their idol to a normie. 

They seemed to be having fun so you let them talk the entire trip to your new house. 

“Do you like it, madam?” Uraume asked as you examined the residence from outside. “It’s small, but putting you in an apartment complex was out of the question. It would’ve been nice if we got you a mansion but the people I spoke to claimed that only this house was available. Unbelievable, Sukuna-sama would never have tolerated this–”

“I like it.”

“Hm?”

You turned to Uraume and smiled. “I like it, Uraume. Thank you for your efforts.”

Uraume blinked. Then they slowly covered their mouth. “M-my lady, your smile is as radiant as I remember.”

“Are you crying?”

“This servant will go and organize everything so please relax as much as you like!” They then dashed inside.

What an odd person, you thought. But you didn’t want to go inside just yet, not because you were afraid of potential ghosts. Uraume explained the truth about the house before the drive here, and they didn’t seem bothered with it so why should you? 

However, the house was still full of movers carrying furniture and whatnot, and you’d rather avoid people. 

As you thought about where to pass time, something tugged the hem of your dress.

“Fwah…”

You glanced down and found a toddler pulling on your skirt. “Huh? Go away.”

“Mm?” The baby raised his head and met your eyes, and time stopped.

Your head felt heavy and everything around the toddler turned blurry. 

“Yuu…ji?” 

Huh? Did you say something just now? 

“There you are, Yuuji! You almost gave me a heart attack. I’m pretty sure I locked the door, how do you keep escaping?” An old man came over and picked up the child from the ground. “What on Earth am I going to do with you…hm?”

The old man finally noticed you. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

You kept your eyes on the child, who was clapping his hands. “I…I just moved in.”

“Moved in? Where? Oh.” He scratched his stubble when he realized it. “That’s unfortunate.”

You stared at the baby in his arms. Its cheeks were so chubby. You wanted to pinch them until he cried. 

“It’s not my place to say this but… maybe you and your family would be better off going someplace else…” The man whispered.

“What do you mean?” You finally looked away from the toddler.

He sighed. “It’s complicated, but since your parents bought the land they probably already know. It’s a pity. This little one and I will be moving out soon and you could’ve gotten our house instead.”

“Moving out?”

“It’s nothing a kid like you should concern yourself with. Let’s just say that after everything, it’d be bad luck to stay here, right, Yuuji?”

“Ehehe,” the baby garbled out a laugh, making a spit bubble. 

“You can’t leave…” 

“What’s that?” The man turned to you.

You gazed deep into his eyes and repeated, “You can’t leave.”

“We have to, little miss. It’s the best thing for us. I’m not sentimental but I don’t believe in tempting fate. I don’t know if you’re aware but living in this street feels wrong after the mur–ahem, after the incident.”

“What incident?”

“Like I said, you’re too young–”

“There wasn’t any incident.”

“What’re you talking about? Ah, I guess your parents didn’t tell you, after all.”

“There wasn’t any incident,” you said again, never breaking eye contact. “Nothing happened, everything is fine. You’re not going anywhere.”

Your mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear yourself. Your mind was muddied. 

The old man stared back at you, unblinking and silent for a whole minute, before his lips moved, “I haven’t seen you before.”

“No. I just moved in with the L/N’s.” You pointed at your new house. 

“Ah, I see. Are you a visiting cousin or something?”

“Yes. My parents are working abroad so my aunt and uncle decided to take me in.”

“Aha, I see. They’re good people, your aunt and uncle, though their sons are a bit rowdy.”

“Yes, they are.” You turned to the baby who was now looking at you with curious eyes.

The old man noticed and proceeded to introduce himself and the kid. “I’m your neighbor, Wasuke Itadori, and this one’s named Yuuji. His parents are… not here, so I’m in charge of him.”

The baby beamed before reaching out his fat sausage arm towards you.

You offered him a finger and he grabbed it tightly as he giggled.

“Nice to meet you. My name is…”

You opened your eyes, a bit groggy from a dream you could no longer remember. 

“Finally awake?” A woman asked. She had long brown hair and wore a lab coat. A doctor. “Hello, I’m Shoko Ieiri. Do you remember who you are?”

You rose to a sitting position, but didn’t answer. 

“Do you know today’s date?”

You stared at her. “Where is Yuuji?”

“Hm… how do you know that name?”

“Yuuji is my neighbor but we’re more like family. Where is he?”

“He was right…” Shoko murmured as she wrote something on her clipboard. When she noticed you glaring, she put it away and grinned. “Don’t worry, he’s indisposed but otherwise in good health. You’ll be able to meet up with him in a few minutes. We need to focus on your condition right now.”

“I’m perfectly healthy.” You raised your arms in an attempt to show how fine you were. “Nothing hurts and I remember my own name and the date today. Please let me see him.” 

Before she could reply, her phone buzzed and she excused herself.

As she stepped out to answer the call, you stared at your hands as they pulled on your blanket. 

“Yuuji…”

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumanii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @boba–12 @certainduckanchor @langweile @amitiel-truth @qualityprincessrunaway @thatoneweirdgirl17 @lilith-snape

A/N: This took longer than expected. But anyway, happy human holidays, everyone! Comments are always appreciated.

[literaila]

In keeping secrets we see reader worried that sorcery would rid megumi of a normal life but what if we got megumi assuring reader that he wanted to choose this life and that she didn’t have to worry or something along those lines 😭

“we still don’t have to do this. there are plenty of high schools—“

“can you just drop it?”

you look over to megumi, trying to smile. as if he’s not going to see right through that. as if he hasn’t known you since you were practically his age, and as if you don’t actively discourage lying any chance you get.

it’s different for adults, okay?

“i’m serious, megumi.”

he raises a brow. you can tell he’s at least a little bit amused—if only because you’ve seen the same glint in his eyes when he hides satoru’s blindfolds around the house. “so am i.”

your face is pained. “you don’t have to listen to satoru. or tsumiki. or me, even.”

“when have i ever?”

you nudge him with your arm, trying to relax every tense muscle in your body.

is it just pure instinct to protect him from this? or are you actually scared, worried that megumi wouldn’t argue with satoru, isn’t comfortable enough to tell you that—

“can you stop freaking out about this?”

“do i look like i’m freaking out?”

megumi stares at you blankly.

“okay,” you look back down to the paperwork in front of you. you wonder if this is how satoru feels anytime he says anything to the kid. you should probably be nicer to him. “maybe i’m freaking out. but it’s only because dad was supposed to do this with you.”

megumi looks briefly horrified.

“take me or leave me, kid.”

he shakes his head. “you’re better than that bonehead.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “okay, you really gotta get over the movie thing—“

“no i don’t—“

“it was an accident.”

megumi crosses his arms. “why are you defending him? he ruined the entire series for me.”

you roll your eyes. “you think by now you’d know not to talk to him about movies.”

“you think by now he’d know not to spoil the entire thing,” megumi mocks.

you snort.

“why are you so… weird about this anyway? you went there. so did gojo.”

“and look how he turned out.”

megumi gives you a grin—meaning his cheek twitches and he blinks at you.

“it’s just… you really don’t have to go. i know satoru goes on and on about taking responsibility, and acknowledging strength. and i know that tsumiki thinks you should do whatever you can to help people but—“ you stop. bite your cheek. “you don’t have to go, megumi. you can be a normal person. become a doctor or something.”

“i can barely deal with my classmates,” he says, “why would i want to interact with sick people on a daily basis?”

you scoff. “first of all, it was a hypothetical.”

“that’s a terrible suggestion.”

you tilt your head at him. “you’re smart,” you say, “you’re kind. you’re handsome—“ you reach a hand out to pinch his cheek, but he grabs it—like an instinct.

but you take what you can get, so you squeeze it, smiling at him—but really this time.

because he’s so much more than you could’ve asked for.

tsumiki and megumi are your good luck charms, if anything. a sign for your younger self that everything would be okay.

they’re so much more than teenagers should be, so much more than satoru or you deserve.

but you’re not going to complain. the world is shit, and the gifts you’ve been given will never leave your grasp.

still…

“you could do whatever you want with your life, megs. anything. it doesn’t have to be jujutsu.”

“this is what i want to do.”

you let go of his hand, looking back down. “are you sure?”

megumi makes a noise, crossing his arms. “why don’t you trust me?”

“it’s got nothing to do with you,” you retort, sitting up. “but you grew up with satoru telling you who you’re supposed to be—“

“i have never listened to anything he’s told me—“

“so if you decide this isn’t you, that’s okay. i need you to know that it’s okay to do whatever you want. it’s not selfish, or irresponsible. it’s human.”

there’s a moment of silence.

you stare down at the table and wonder how many times you had to repeat those words—just to believe them.

you wonder how many years it took before you decided to act however you saw fit, and not bend to the wills of fate.

what will happen to megumi, whatever he chooses?

how are you supposed to protect him from the future?

“mom,” he says, breaking the silence. not a question.

“hmm?”

you’re tapping your fingers on the table, not looking at him.

god, satoru should’ve filled out the paperwork with him. he wouldn’t have scared the kid into changing his mind. he wouldn’t have even said anything.

“i want to do this,” megumi whispers to you. “i—there was never any question for me. i’ve never wanted to do anything else.”

you look at him. he’s staring back—his eyes so stern and mature, it almost makes you want to cry.

all you can do is nod. there’s no way to voice your fears to a fourteen year old, no way to make him understand.

but that’s okay. that’s why you have satoru.

“and you don’t need to worry about me. worry about gojo, or something, instead.”

you laugh. “i do worry about dad, and you, and tsumiki. all of the time. i can’t stop now.”

“well, try.”

you shake your head, messing with his hair. “nuh-uh. you’re my little boy. i’ll always be worried about you.”

megumi makes a face, and you laugh again.

“okay,” you take a breath. “let’s finish these papers. hopefully satoru and tsumiki will be back by then.”

“did they—“

it’s then that the front door opens, satoru’s signature slam ringing down the hallway.

“speak of the devil,” you whisper. megumi just sighs.

“oh goodness,” satoru says, as he walks down the hall. “my son and my wife, sitting at the same table. isn’t that funny?”

“we’re busy, satoru.”

satoru pouts at you, setting a bag on the table. “but we brought dinner,” he says, “and presents.”

“where’s tsumiki?” megumi asks.

“she’s getting the—“

and then tsumiki rounds the corner, holding at least five different shopping bags.

“satoru!” you hit his arm. “go help her.”

“what? she’s fine. woman are strong, you know? don’t underestimate their strength.”

tsumiki laughs, setting the bags down on a chair.

“you’re gonna learn just how strong a woman is when i—“

“what are you guys doing? homework?”

you glare at him. “we’re filling out the papers yaga gave us. the ones you were supposed to do a week ago.”

he grins at you, leaning down to leave a loud kiss on your cheek. then he pulls you so your face is pressed against his thigh. “has she cried yet?” he asks megumi.

“we’re getting there.”

[malereadermaniac]

Alt-boy headcannons - Rantaro Amami x Male Reader

College AU, both of you attend hopes peak, but it's a college (ages around the 20s) Some longer headcannons of Rantaro as your alt-boy crush (U/t) - Ultimate Talent word count: 1.7k 1 Nsfw headcannon / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Pining over him

How could you not find the tall, deathly looking white boy from your class attractive?

Rantaro caught your eye almost immediately - with his muted-green dyed hair, his baggy clothes, the crystals around his neck, and his sexy, smug smirk

His style overall was just straight up hot! That alt-boy had you wrapped around his pinky finger - and the two of you barely ever even interacted!

Sure, you were both in the XXth class at Hope's Peak, but there are 15 other students in that class!

What changed things was a paired project sent from the God's above, forcing the two of you to spend at the very least A WHOLE WEEK TOGETHER

To say you were buzzing was an understatement

During that project, you two became friends, and you both started to talk inside and outside of school afterwards

It's great that you can talk to Rantaro, it's what you wanted, of course! But man, is it hard not to blush anytime you two interact or not stare at the man's beautiful features

He pines over you

Rantaro had known of you before that paired project. You were both in the same class, so of course, he knew your name and that you were the (u/t)

He did tend to admire you from afar. If a class ever got boring, Rantaro would wander his gaze over to you and watch as you clumsily played with your stationery

During the group project, Rantaro really got to know you - and that's when he found himself falling for you

Being in a closer proximity to you allowed the alt-boy to admire you up close; he found your features cute and attractive, the face you made when concentrating funny, you hands gentle & soft looking, and Rantaro fully could not get enough of your voice

He loved it when you talked and explained something to him, the hum of your voice sounding like waves on a beach

But Rantaro also found himself talking too, talking to you more than he does to his other friends at school - something about you, maybe your comforting look and tone, just made the green-haired man feel like he could open up to you

And while you two did chat about random shit and classes, more interesting things were talked out too - like your ultimates

And that's when Rantaro noticed that he could, for some reason, be vulnerable with some classmate he'd never talked to that much before

The stylish man opened up about his sisters, the reason behind his talent being how he's always searching for them and wants to dedicate his life to finding them

And the fact that you simply just listened to him and wished him luck, Rantaro was officially head over heels for you

Listening to music together

Rantaro insists on you giving his music a try

Even though you're more of a pop listener, Rantaro's pestering gets more intense by the day - so you have given in before

The first you gave in had you thinking about it for like 5 weeks, smiling 'n giggling and kicking your feet st the thought of it

What happened was Rantaro had his wired earphones in, listening to his indie music and swearing in his life that you'll like it more than whatever you were currently listening to

And to prove that, Rantaro took an earphone out and popped it into your ear, forcing the two of you closer together for the headphones to not fall out

You, of course, blushed immediately, Rantaro smiling down at you as you both listened to some Arctic Monkey's song

After getting over the fact that you two were practically at kissing distance, his scent and cologne making you feel dizzy, you started to actually listen and enjoy the song

Rantaro chuckled at you and said a very proud "I told you, you'd like it" as the two of you looked into each others eyes with an oddly romantic song playing in both of your ears

God, you still haven't really stopped thinking about that moment - and neither has Rantaro

Dress-up

As your bond with Rantaro grew more and more, you and the stylish man had become more comfortable with each other

Enough to go over to each other's houses and enough to change in front of each other

So when you went 'round Rantaro's and looked through his wardrobe, he offered to play a little dress-up with you

Not only did the handsome man let you borrow his attractive, baggy clothes that smelled of him in the best way possible, but he also dressed you himself then and there

You were embarrassed at first, stripping in front of your close friend/kinda crush, but Rantaro made you feel comfortable

You liked how he eyed up your bare chest nonchalantly, how Rantaro briefly ran his fingers over your skin as he put one of his huge jumpers on you

After trying on a few outfits, stripping to your boxers over and over, you couldn't help but notice Rantaro desperately trying to cover his crotch - he's lucky that his clothes are ridiculously baggy

The confession

Looking back on it, you still have no idea what came over you, but one day you just randomly confessed to Rantaro

Maybe it was the overwhelming romantic and slightly sexual tension between the two of you, or maybe it was the universe saying that you two are meant to be together

Whatever it was, it overwhelmed you to the point that as you were leaving Rantaro's house, as you were hugging him for a second too long, you looked into his hypnotic eyes and just word vomited your feelings

By the time you were done rambling about Rantaro's pretty eyes and good clothes n music taste and his kind personality and his fucking hot look and body, the taller man was blushing almost as much as you were

Rantaro covered his mouth with his lean hand in such a sexy way, his other arm crossed against his torso, as he looked down at you

You took the silence as rejection and instantly started to tear up and apologise

However you were quickly interrupted by Rantaro's fucking hot, slightly raspy chuckle as he nonchalantly said "I've been waiting for you to say all that y'know... I like you too, (y/n), my ultimate (talent)

Your brain just about short-circuited when you heard your now boyfriend say that

After talking the situation through briefly, you had to get back to leaving - bur Rantaro wouldn't let you leave until he'd had his fill of your lips and tongue

According to him, he'd been "deprived of your taste for so long now... been so patient for you"

Dating

The two of you are happily dating, you aren't an overly clingy or annoying couple - but you do see each other every day, and most weekends

You love to spend the night at Rantaro's, most of your dates take place in his home - but on special occasions, you two make the effort to go out on fancy dates

Cuddling, spooning, and falling asleep in each other's arms is usually how your little date hangouts end - Rantaro's huge clothes offering you both so much warmth along with his lanky arms around your waist and chest

Listening to music is almost a daily ordeal now, sharing headphones while eating lunch or just laying on each other's lap - you aren't clingy, but small amounts of PDA is a must with you two

If you two wanna go out but not for anything fancy, arcades and parks are your go-to's - especially if there's a bakery nearby, sweet treats, and time with one another really gives you both a dopamine rush

Rantaro can also get jealous pretty easily - something you did NOT expect. He's told you that he would get jealous and possessive even back when you were both just friends

But the green-haired alt boy isn't very obvious about it, he'll just get in his head if some guy tries to chat you up - cuddling into you a little more or holding your hand a little tighter for the rest of the day

Spice

Rantaro may not seem it, however he is one horny mother fucker!

Saying that, the two of you didn't have sex for a little while - but you both made up for it in making out like hell

On every single one of your dates/hangouts, once it got a little later into the evening, you would with no doubt end up on Rantaro's lap somehow making out with your boyfriend like your life depended on it

Rantaro loves holding onto your waist and the back of your neck, his slim, masculine hands gently holding you in place

Of course (being men with dicks which get hard at the smallest movement) you would both grind into each other, Rantaro's hard dick poking into your thigh while you rub your own against his abdomen

But for a while, the two of you wouldn't go any further, just make out for ages and then blue-ball yourselves

That was until you both got sick of that and wanted to go further

You prepped before going over to Rantaro's and double-checked his roommates were out of the apartment for the night - they were.

After making out until your lips were sore and your tongues were tired, you stopped Rantaro from moving away

With a deep blush, you mentioned wanting to go further, and your alt-boyfriend perked up even more in mood and in body; the smile on his face was immense and adorable

You were each other's firsts, and while it wasn't perfect it was pretty damn good

Ever since that day, Rantaro has been insatiable, he couldn't get enough of you before when you two would just kiss but now he's practically addicted to you

Missionary, Doggy, lotus, hell you've even tried a full-nelson! Rantaro and you fuck almost every night now and it's fucking heavenly

[sturnsdc]

ART CLASS AU!

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

synopsis: Yn has feelings for her classmate, Carl, but she never does anything about it. However, things seem to work in her favor when they have to work on a project together for the art class.

warnings: no TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, somewhat obsessive behavior ??

words: 2,4k

A/N: to make the narration clearer: at all times, Yn is writing in her diary, which is why at times she will speak about Carl, and at other times it may seem like she’s speaking directly to him (but she’s not)!! For the most part, it’s just a bunch of fragments from her diary, as she explains a bit at the end.

this came to my mind suddenly; i apologize for it being so short.

the words in italics are the lyrics of the song !!

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

YN´S POV

you look pretty good today

is it me or did you shave?

sometimes i wonder if it's normal, if it's real. With each passing day, he seems to become more handsome, and like a magnet, he keeps drawing my gaze again and again. It feels like i can't control it.

i notice when he wears a new shirt, or when he’s wearing the same pants from a few days ago. I notice when he forgets something, when he’s focused, or when he gets distracted.

i just can’t stop noticing him.

good, you've been looking at me twice as more

so i can see your face

when we make eye contact, i feel like i’m going to die. My heart races, my cheeks turn red, my hands sweat, and i stop breathing. Even my stomach tightens, my whole body tenses up. The first time it happened, i thought i was having an attack.

secretly, i enjoy it because when i feel his gaze, i have an excuse to turn my head, look at him, and smile. I don’t even know where i find the courage, but he smiles back at me, with tight lips, then looks away after a few seconds.

my friends told me not to overthink it, that maybe i’m just misinterpreting things. They say if “i keep analyzing every time we make eye contact”, i’ll end up falling for him, and then he’ll break my heart by not feeling the same way.

you sit across from me in the classroom

but do you even know my name?

then i tried to avoid him. He probably doesn’t even know who i am. Does he even know my name? i doubt it; they hardly ever say it out loud in class. I don’t even know everyone else’s names.

but then everything seems to align, and the teacher walks to that side of the room while giving the lesson, as if she knows i’m following her with my eyes. And there he is, on the other side of the classroom, in his plaid shirt and with those pretty eyes, taking notes on everything she’s saying… while i lose my breath and forget what i was listening to.

Carl... i do know your name.

if you want to ask me how i am

don't hesitate

it was a couple of days after the teacher announced the final project. The art class would have to hold a fair, showcasing our own works, from paintings to ceramics. It had to be in pairs, but we couldn’t pick our usual partners. We had to step out of our bubbles and take a risk.

i thought about him, but my embarrassment consumed me, so i let the days pass. And just two days before the next class, i ran into him in the hallway. He seemed surprised. His blue eyes looked at me in a strange way, almost like he was unsure of something. Then he made a move to come closer, and i started to get nervous.

he did it; i didn’t expect him to. He spoke to me, asked if we could pair up, and all i could do was say yes, with a dazed look and stumbling over my words. Then he smiled, like i’d never seen him smile before. His face lit up, and he walked away, happy.

did i do the right thing? how am i gonna focus if i could barely even speak to him?

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

i have to admit, Carl Grimes is a special guy. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the little details i’ve noticed, about the brief interactions we’ve had. It’s like my world is starting to revolve around him.

he’s a gentleman—so masculine yet so gentle. He speaks to me with such care, even though i’ve seen him outside of class, joking roughly and arguing with his friends. He’s the complete opposite.

i like this side of him, when he focuses all his attention on me, asks for my opinion, and smiles at me. I haven’t seen him talk like that with anyone else. 

should i get my hopes up?

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

we started talking about the project.

he’s so smart, coming up with amazing ideas, and i stress over not knowing which one to choose. however, he doesn’t seem worried; he waits for my answer patiently, as if we had all the time in the world, which isn’t true since we have to submit the work plan by the end of the class. but he doesn’t pressure me—he asks for my opinion on each idea and helps me weigh the pros and cons.

we chose one together, and then i started writing our plan.

but… something… feels off. We keep making eye contact, and i smile like a fool, watching as he does the same. Is this really happening? i feel like we’re in a bubble. time no longer exists, air isn’t even necessary—just us.

and then i find myself hoping that he feels the same, because i love how it feels to talk to him, to be the center of his attention, even if just for a moment.

an art class

an art class

art class used to be my escape from other subjects, a room where i felt safe. Then i saw him, and it became more than just that. Thinking about art class sends tingles through my body and instantly puts a smile on my face. My heart races like crazy, and i’m filled with excitement. And it’s all because of him.

now, art class has become something that makes me genuinely happy, motivating me to go to school.

even with the project, i’ve never been this excited to work on an assignment before, but now that i’m at his house, meeting his dad and his sister, and then heading to his room to start working on our project… i feel like i love classwork.

why do you always stick to smiling

and sit still being so quiet?

i feel like he's in the hallways more often now, because i see him every day. Sometimes i'm just turning a corner, and there he is, with his group of friends, laughing and being the smiley guy i used to see only once in a while. 

he's everywhere, all the time. What's going on?

now it's impossible not to notice him, because he's always there. Sometimes i don't even have to see him, because i can hear his laugh, or his friends', and i know we’re in the same place. 

how can he be so loud, but so damn quiet in class? i don’t get it.

it's like a completely different version of him, but i don't mind at all, it's just... weird. 

i've been pretty distracted for some days

and it's ruining my diet

the days go by, and each time i get to know him more and more. He's amazing, funny, super smart, mature, and adorable. I've also gotten to know his family better, and i understand more where that calm and controlled side he shows in class comes from.

everything seems wonderful, and i know my feelings are only growing with each passing minute, but he's starting to occupy my mind all the time, and that's becoming a problem.

my friends talk during lunch, but all i can think about is our conversation from the day before, when we got sidetracked from the project, and he started explaining the story of one of his comics. I can remember how his eyes lit up as he told me about it, and i just kept asking questions, even though i already knew the stories. I love the passion with which he spoke about it. I remember his tone of voice, the way he moved his head, and how his eyes looked at me so attentively. I recall almost every word, but then, when my mind is at its peak, i see my friends getting up from their seats, looking at me with puzzled and concerned faces.

lunch ended, and i didn’t even touch my food.

Carl Grimes, i need to figure this out soon.

if you don't take the hint already

i'm afraid i'll start a riot

i’m trying to figure out if it’s just me, Carl, but i really don’t understand—do you look at me the way i look at you?

now i try to avoid looking at you if i don’t have to, but then i feel a constant gaze, and when i turn my head, there you are, trying to look away as quickly as you can. Am i imagining this?

i feel the frustration building inside me, Carl. I need to know.

today, i try wearing different clothes, the ones i save in my closet for occasions outside of class, the ones i wear when i feel confident. But this time, i don’t feel that way. This time, i’m scared. I want you to notice. I want to know if you care, if you’ll say something.

'cause you make my whole world go crazy

yeah, your smell just sends me flying

and you did, Carl. You told me i looked good, then you got nervous and said i always look good, just that this time i looked different. If you only knew how much that meant to me.

since then, days have gone by, and i feel like you’re paying more attention to me— or have you always done that and i’m just now noticing?

you also started wearing a new cologne; it’s stronger and lingers in the air when you pass by me. Is that on purpose? now i can’t stop thinking about how good you smell, and that alone is enough to keep me floating, my mind in paradise, thinking about how much i like you.

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

today i told my friends how i feel about you. They looked at me with pity and talked to me like i was a little girl. They say you don’t feel the same, that i’m imagining everything, and that i’ll end up hurt if i keep this up.

am i really that out of my mind? they say i’m obsessed, that i’m seeing things where there aren’t any.

but they were the ones who told me the first time you looked back at me.

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

i've spent some nights crying, and now i’m trying to avoid you. It's so hard when we still have to keep working on the damn project.

i’m scared of getting my hopes up. I started this on my own. you’re not to blame, but now i wish i didn’t have to see you for a couple of weeks.

an art class

an art class

and yet, that day of the week arrives, and along with the anxiety, i can feel the excitement trying to break free. My heart races, my hands sweat, and i can’t catch my breath.

“art class,” says the sign on the door, and just that is enough to shake my entire world and bring back the feelings i’m trying to ignore.

all my days

been trying to find a reason to stay

i keep hearing my friends' words every time i see you, and now i feel guilt, embarrassment, and a horrible pain in my chest that settles in my heart, right next to the happiness you bring me. It makes me feel sick and confused.

you've asked me a couple of times if i'm okay, but how could i answer you with the truth?

say my name

and i'll go ahead and pick a date

i'm okay

if you understand that this is fate

the day of the exhibition arrived, and i’m nervous, and you notice it, so you take my hand and smile at me. You told me everything would be fine, that we did great, and that we would do really well.

you were right. Of course you were...

we spent the whole day there, answering questions and receiving compliments. We really did a good job, and everyone keeps saying that.

now i feel exhausted. All day i had to manage my emotions—the mix of anxiety, the pain in my chest, happiness, satisfaction... and love, the damn love. I feel like handling all that drained me more than talking to so many people and repeating the same words over and over.

finally, we can leave, but then you take my hand again and make me look at you. This time you look more serious, and i start to get scared, but you don’t say anything bad.

“i’m going to be honest, Yn, i loved working with you on this and getting to know you better. Since i saw you in class, something about you caught my attention, but i didn’t know how to approach you. This was the perfect opportunity, and i took it. I understand if you don’t feel the same way i do, but if you do... i’d like to get to know you more and see what can come of this.” that’s what you said, your face blushing and your eyes looking everywhere but at me.

if you only knew that when i got home, i cried, feeling so happy, kicking my legs on the bed like a tv character, and squealing into my pillow so no one would hear me. with my face red and a huge smile.

now we’re going on a date, and i just hope this turns out well.

Carl Grimes, what have you done to me?

art class

art class

i don’t even know when i started smiling, but i finished reading aloud and looked around. Carl, beside me, was smiling widely, and our two little ones had tears in their eyes; apparently, they were moved by the story of how it all began.

i recently found my diary from when i was a teenager, and i told Carl about it in front of the girls, and they both begged me to read it to them. Of course, i paused at the perfect part, at the true beginning of our relationship, but within those pages is everything, including the story of our first time and countless anecdotes from our school days.

i will always be grateful for that class because that’s how i got to know the man who makes me happy.

Carl Grimes is more than my words can describe, but i think i did a good job explaining how i fell for him.

who would have thought that a couple of years later, this would be our life?

in the end, maybe it was part of our destiny.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[marveling-cg]

Okay, I just turned on MHA like six weeks ago, and just finished the manga yesterday. And while I have.....thoughts -.- about that ending, I also can't help think about:

Deku's Accidental Charm Offensive & Unintentional Rehabilitation of Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight's Image

Like:

On one of Deku's first patrols with Dynamight, they wrap up a villain with no injuries, no collateral, no casualties, and Dynamight lets rip his signature shout: "FLAWLESS VICTORY!"

The PR folks at his agency (and the internet) have told him that it's off-putting and unnerving

But Deku breaks out laughing behind him, Bakugo turns for the fist bump, aggressive, still pumped up from the adrenaline

Deku returns it automatically, smile bright, cheeks flushed, eyes nearly shut

The internet thinks it's adorable

And when:

They've responded to a request to back up heroes in an adjacent zone

Bakugo's been picking up more requests for backup now that Deku's in the field -- he knows the nerd gets a kick out of working in teams, and sometimes they run into their classmates, it makes Deku smile, whatever

There's a group of villains working in a team, and the biggest of them has a quirk it takes the the BakuBros way too long to figure out, but Deku, Chargebolt, and Red Riot manage to clear the extras from the field long enough for Bakugo to finally put the big bad down

It was a messy and exhausting fight, Bakugo's barely staying on his feet in the aftermath, but then he hears a shout from a nearby roof -- Deku:

"Great Explosion Murder God --"

"DYNAMIGHT" Kaminari and Kirishima join Deku's dumbass shout, and Bakugo is tossed up on the idiot's shoulders like an American frat boy.

They're so embarrassing.

The nearby newscaster filming from the police line laughs with the rest of the nearby civilians, says something about the atmosphere of joy as the villains have finally been subdued

But especially that time:

Some overexcitable brat almost got themselves killed on Deku and Bakugo's watch

There'd been some two-bit criminal, hardly enough of a threat to be called a villain, but Endeavor'd taught them to respond quickly, and they'd never been able to kick the muscle memory

The kid, no more than 8 or 9 had seen them passing by from her window and climbed out onto her fire escape, climbing up on the rails to try and record the interaction

Thank fuck the sensors on Deku's suit had picked up the anomaly of her sudden descent

Though they'd both rushed into action, Bakugo made the save snatching the kid from the air before she'd injured herself

When he got them both on solid ground, he'd been ready to light into her -- "Listen here, you --"

But Deku had been there, hand firm on Bakugo's elbow, "Kacchan, no!" Before hip-checking Bakugo out of the way and crouching down to get at eye level with the girl

"Hey, what my buddy, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight" (Deku always says it like Bakugo had dreamed it, like it's the name of someone trustworthy) "is trying to say is that your safety is way more important than a picture or video of us. Right?"

Here Deku had turned to look up at Bakugo. His midnight green eyes stern and expectant. Reminding Bakugo:

He'd made a promise to himself. If Deku gave becoming a hero a chance -- not just doing test work with the suit, not just moonlighting between class and grading papers, but really gave partnering with Bakugo his best effort -- Bakugo wouldn't let himself do anything to get in the way of Deku becoming the #1 hero. Anything.

"Yeah kid, it's not a flawless victory if you get hurt."

Deku beamed at him as if Bakugo just plucked the moon from the sky and personally gifted to him. Bakugo's cheeks had burned. But it didn't matter (he'd thought it wouldn't matter -- smartphones are the worst) Deku had already turned back to the girl.

"And if you want to come chat with us, we'll be at the Fall Festival at _____ Park around the corner in just a couple weeks! We'll be at the ______ Agency booth!"

Business kids had gotten the bright idea that heroes ought to be more accessible, feel more a part of the communities they helped protect.

A week later, Ashido sent a tweet to the Forever 1A group chat. A video of he and Deku with the kid. The caption: "Turns out Great Explosion Murder God just needed an anger interpreter."

The first comment under the tweet: "Anger interpreter? Do you mean husband?? Look at the blush!"

Bakugo is going to kill them!

But like, after 3 months of he and Deku partnering, they're neck and neck with Todoroki - the Big 3 back in competition.

[parkjayist]

enchanted (pjs) ONESHOT

sum you're not quite enjoying prom the way you wanted to, luckily someone else feels the same way.

paring park jongseong x f!reader

genre a bit of angst , fluff , classmates to something more? , one shot

an sorry i took so long! school was killing me D:

wc 1.4k

" all i can say is, it was enchanting to meet you. "

you were genuinely excited for prom this year. 

it was your last one before graduating. in your last year of highschool, everything felt more sentimental, more special. during the first football game of the school year, you broke down in tears. your friends stared at you as if you were an alien, one of them secretly snapping a picture of you to tease you later. you weren’t crying because of the game, but rather realizing you wouldn’t be able to gossip with your friends on the bleachers or pretend to cheer when the team scored a goal. these tiny things that you didn’t care for before became part of you as you went into 12th grade. this is why, even if you dreaded prom before, you were going to enjoy your last one no matter what happened.

… which you didn’t do. 

nothing bad was happening at prom, in fact, it was going extremely well. your friends told you that you looked beautiful, and you felt beautiful too. but something was missing. one hour in, and you felt absolutely drained. everytime someone you knew approached you, you put on a fake smile, but in reality you really wanted to run out of the doors and reach for comfort in your bed. 

“are you sure you don’t wanna dance with us?” your friend asked, eyes slightly furrowed with concern.

“yes, i’m fine. go have fun, i’ll watch you guys. it’s entertaining seeing you guys act like fools on the dance floor,” you joked, even though your voice sounded extremely strained. 

your friend sighed and walked to join her other friends, and you slouched back on your seat, silently observing them. you were quite disappointed that your prom didn’t end up the way you wanted it to. you wanted to have fun and talk with your friends, but you both physically and mentally couldn’t handle that. you slowly sipped your lemonade, starting to zone out. 

“hey, you alright?” a voice asked you. 

you yelped in surprise, almost spilling your drink. to your left sits your classmate, park jongseong. your eyes widened in surprise. what in the world was jongseong doing here, sitting next to me?

it wasn’t like you guys were complete strangers, but you guys were definitely not friends. more like acquaintances, that probably only interacted 3 times the entire 4 years in highschool. he was in at least one of your classes every year, but you guys never talked to each other. he wasn’t extremely popular by any means, but he was well known. jongseong was hard-working and kind. he was also known to be extremely fun to be around if you were even lucky to be his friend. he kept his circle small, barely paying mind to anyone else around him. he probably doesn’t even know you, you think. 

so why was he sitting next to you, when he should have been with his friends, enjoying prom?

“hellooo …? earth to (____)?” jongseong playfully waved a hand in front of your face, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts.

“o.. oh! um, sorry,” you laughed nervously. “i’m okay, i just don’t really have fun at social events.”

jongseong nodded, listening intently to your words. he leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on his lap. he had a certain glint in his eyes– something you immediately noticed when you took the time to look at his face.

“don’t worry, me neither,” he smiled. “hey– do you want to get out of here?”

you blinked at him. “umm … where would we go?”

“we could go to 7/11. it isn’t too far from here, probably like a five-minute walk,” he suggested.

you looked at your friends giggling loudly and dancing to their hearts' content. you looked back at jongseong, who was waiting for a response.

“sure, why not,” you said with a small smile.

the boy reciprocated the smile, immediately getting up and adjusting his shirt. he motioned for you to follow him as you both “sneakily” left the event. he held the door open for you, and you beamed at him as a silent thank you. the cool spring air hit your face as you let out a small sigh of relief. you didn’t know how suffocating prom had been until you left that room. you both walked silently, shoulders brushing every now and then. it was a comfortable silence, which you appreciated as you didn’t have much energy to talk. you shortly spotted the blinding lights of the 7/11, and you both entered, greeting the cashier with a quiet hello.

“so … what did you want to get?” you asked jongseong.

the boy thought for a bit before giving you a grin, “how about we eat that ramen you always ate when you came here?”

your eyes widened. “how– what — were you stalking me?”

that cheesy grin immediately dissipated with your accusation, now replaced with rosy cheeks and wide eyes that matched yours.

“n.. no! i come here like almost every day, and by chance, you were here when i came by a couple of times,” he hurriedly explained himself.

you both stared at each other before you broke into loud laughter, gathering attention from the cashier and some people around you. jongseong looked at you incredulously, letting out a few chuckles with you.

“sorry …” you wiped tears that formed after your incessant laughter. “you just looked so adorable when you were trying to explain yourself. i know you’re not a stalker, don’t worry,” you giggled, patting him on the shoulder before walking away to find the ramen brand.

jongseong stood there for a minute, his cheeks as red as a strawberry. he placed a hand over where you touched him, giggling quietly to himself. he quickly found you again in the ramen section, his hands in his pockets as he looked down at you.

park jongseong was a boy of simplicity – he preferred straightforwardness and authenticity. he had never thought of love, but whenever he did, he wanted it to be slow, calm, and peaceful. he wanted to take his lover out on 7/11 dates, expensive dates, spontaneous dates … everything. however, he slowly realized in his high school years that it might be impossible to find love, as everyone was too focused on themselves.

but as you searched for your ramen pack, he started to think of love again. except in his imagination, his lover was not some blank, faceless void – it was you. he was imagining you as his lover. he was shocked, not appalled, but surprised. this was your first true interaction with him, and he was already thinking of you as his lover … what had you done to him?

you stood up abruptly, and jongseong came back to reality.

“you got it?” he softly asked.

you nodded, and he followed you to the cashier. you took out your phone case to get the $10 bill from your phone case, but he stopped you, paying with his credit card. you shyly thanked him as you both stared into space while waiting for his card to register.

“thank you so much,” the cashier handed you the receipt. “by the way– what’s the special occasion? you guys look oddly fancy for a 7/11 date,” the cashier asked with a curious grin on their face.

“oh– we aren’t da–” you started to speak up, before the boy behind you interrupted.

“we were at prom … and we just wanted to spend some time together,” jongseong said, looking down at you with a cheesy grin.

the cashier smiled and said something about young love, which left you both flustered. you quickly went to heat up the ramen, and you both decided to eat outside on the benches, agreeing that the cool night air would be refreshing. you blew on your ramen, quietly slurping the first strands. your eyes twinkled with happiness, savoring the delicious flavor of the noodles. jongseong looked at you, a small smile playing at his lips. 

there was no excuse, he was enchanted by you. your style, the way you cry when you laugh, your quiet charisma, your intelligence – everything about you was so … loveable. he just wanted to stay in this moment forever. 

“jongseong!” you looked at him, your mouth stuffed with ramen. “eat!”

the boy giggles at your cute face, almost resembling a chipmunk. he starts eating his ramen, occasionally stealing not-so subtle glances at you. 

despite prom not going the way you or jongseong wanted, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this impromptu escape. with each bite of ramen and each joke shared, the disappointment of prom seemed to be completely forgotten. and as you catched jongseong stealing glances at you, a weird warmth spread through your chest, knowing that perhaps, in the midst of a disappointing social night, you found something unexpectedly sweet – the enchanting park jongseong.

masterlist

[woneuntonzz]

what's it like to love ? 𓇢𓆸

anton lee x afab!reader (part 1/5)

• part 2

• part 3

• part 4

• part 5

warnings: cussing!

genre: fluff -`♡´- highschool love

word count: 4.5k words!!

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ description: student athlete!anton x studious class officer!reader | you swore to yourself, to you friends and even to your parents “I'm not one to easily fall.” and you thought you were that tough, not until him of course.

[note!!: hiii i'd just like to quickly say that this is my first ever post ever and i'm still a bit insecure with my writing, and english is not my first language so bare with me now 🙏 open for any forms of feedback

please do take note that i will take longer to update/respond to anything because of school, thank you!!! ]

Anton's that one guy in your class that's very soft spoken —literally. But he wasn't the total loser type, in fact, the other guys in your class are very drawn to him. You figured, maybe it's because he's a student athlete and guys think he's cool for being so good at what he does, or maybe he does have a very likable personality, but you wouldn't know. You weren't curious enough to get to know him then.

The only conversations and interactions the two of you have had are for academic purposes. He was your groumate for a group report once, you took the liberty of being the group leader that time. He was responsive and he did his parts for the report, the only thing he never did was give feedback or be more open to share his opinions. You thought it was a bit odd, since at that time you have been classmates since freshman year.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Hey Y/n, Anton requested to not talk for the report. He said he might not be loud enough.” one of your classmates who was also your groupmate for the report told you just about an hour before reporting.

“Oh, okay, that's fine.” was all you could utter as you glanced over at Anton's seat.

You could've sworn you saw him looking at you before you had set your eyes on him, but you just shrugged it off and got ready for the report.

You, your other groupmate, and Anton were all standing in front of class. Your voice dominated the room and it seemed that all of your classmates were listening or were at least being respectful, everything seemed to be going as planned. And you were relieved that your report was successful and your group was given a decent grade for your report and its contents.

It's the end of the day and you are getting ready to go home. You were gathering your things and tidying up when you saw some of the guys in your class gathered in a clump at the back.

“Y/n carried.” you heard one of the guys say making you playfully roll your eyes with your back facing them. You knew they were teasing Anton.

“Anton did good too.” This time, your other groupmate for the report spoke.

“Yeah, he's pretty good at staring at Y/n—” 

“I did my part, shut up.”

You stood next to your desk, back still facing the boys. Your eyes were wide open. You didn't know where to react at first, what one of the guys just said about staring at you or the fact that Anton's voice was loud enough to make you take a thick breath of the almost-empty classroom air. 

It got quiet for a short while that felt like an hour to you, and they were probably minding your presence, so like a reflex, your feet sped out to your locker. Your mind was suddenly flooded with questions. You felt conflicted to say the least, you didn't even know if you just misheard everything. You started loading your locker with the stuff you had intended to put away when you received a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned your head and felt your face warm up a bit. 

“H-hi Y/n.” 

“Anton.” Anton gulped at the sound of his name being emitted by your voice.

“Umm, I- well. Uh…” he cleared his throat, his eyes shifting around, never meeting yours, not even by chance. You widen your eyes from anticipation, encouraging him to carry on, not that it mattered since he wouldn't even look at your face. “I'mreallysorryforwhatmyfriendsaidokaythanks.”

And like a flash, he was already on his way out of the school building. You found yourself sighing at the situation. But since then, you've never been able to look at Anton without thinking about that very moment.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been months since then. You've been wanting to try and get to at least be on casual convos during class breaks terms with him, but you can't pin-point whether it's you who can't keep up with him, or if it's just him avoiding you entirely.

You tried to catch his attention once by glancing at him nonstop all day during class and breaks, but to your dismay, he was stiff as a statue. You knew that he was aware, it was all too obvious. He wasn't as active as he normally was, he would just stay in his seat and would sometimes rest his head on his desk, using his right arm to hide his face from your sight with his forearm resting at the top of his head. He would only get up from his chair to go to the restroom or to eat lunch at the cafeteria, and when he does get up, he's always facing away from you. 

You left empty-handed at the end of the day, you even missed a day's worth of notes that you deemed necessary. 

“Why did I do that? now I have to revisit textbooks for notes.” your best friend chuckled from the other side of the line while you propped your head on your hand.

“You know it's bad when he's got the Y/n missing her notes and not listening to class.” you gave your best friend a blank stare as he cackled on.

“What do I do Sohee?” you blinked a couple of times before he was able to respond.

“I don't really know. I can't really imagine myself in your shoes right now.” your shoulders drooped down at his wry tone. “What? you were the one who helped me get with Xen.”

“Dude Xen is literally my best friend too. I know her well enough to give you some tips and I've known you since we were kids so helping the two of you out was nothing really.” Sohee gave you a flat smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Anton is my friend too, we're definitely not as close as you and me but maybe I can tell you some things…” his voice faded into the air towards the end of his sentence and you weren't sure if you caught on everything he just said.

“What is it?” your tone made you sound eager and desperate making Sohee grin. “Stop. Just talk and wipe that smug look off of your stupid face.”

Sohee coughed slightly, clearing his throat. He took a small breath before speaking. “From the stories you've told me about the quote interactions you've had with him, he's being weird a-f.”

You furrowed your brows, leaning a bit more into your phone's screen with so much anticipation.

“Well… not to make you overthink, but, he has something going on.” Sohee gave you the same innocent, flat smile as if he didn't trigger an alarm in your brain.

“What? I don't get it, what does it have to do with me?” you urged to which Sohee kept the same expression just staring at you through his phone screen. “What the fuck Sohee.”

“Girl, calm down.” you rolled your eyes, your back falling onto the backrest of your desk chair as you bored holes into Sohee's soul. “The 'something' is about you.” 

Your face went blank again. Your eyes settled on the floor to your left, lost in thought.

“Girl, are you there?” Sohee was waving his hand in front of his phone until you finally looked back at him.

“Is it a bad kind of 'something'? I could've sworn I've done a decent job staying nice to everyone even though Jihoon and his friend lowkey pissed me off for being such pains in the ass in our group thesis.” Sohee started cackling again.

“I don't know man. I think this is for the two of you to figure out yourselves.” you were about to speak when he slightly jumped from his seat. “Okay Xen is calling me, love you bestie, bye!”

Soon, you were left staring at the void that is the black screen of your phone. 

You found it hard to sleep and for a good hour, you were just staring at the ceiling, trying your best to put yourself to sleep, but whenever you closed your eyes, memories of him avoiding you kept replaying in your head.

————— ୨୧ —————

You were dead-set on letting your thoughts rest, determined to ease your mind and figure out what could've possibly caused Anton to ignore your existence. Does he hate you? Is he scared of you? Or is he somehow feeling some other way about you and now he's just trying to run away from it? —even thinking about the latter makes you mentally slap yourself in the face, but who can blame you? The past few months have been confusing and it's been bothering you a lot like an itch in your brain.

Despite the lack of sleep, you were devoted to being an early bird and went to school at your usual time. You got straight into catching up with yesterday's notes. Your desk had a small stack of textbooks and your pens and highlighters scattered, not too far from each other. 

You tried to concentrate but found yourself glancing at Anton's seat frequently, and having to erase, rewrite and white-out the things you were trying to jot down. 

Soon, your eyes were shut, and so were your consciousness. 

You were awakened by a hand placed atop of your head. You were expecting it to be one of your friends, or maybe it was Anton. You hated yourself for even thinking that. You felt the drool down the side of your chin. You frantically wipe it with your hand, your face still hiding from the scene that was awaiting you.

Finally lifting your head up, you see everyone darting their eyes at you. It was such an overwhelming feeling. You look up, feeling the presence standing next to you. It was your English teacher who had placed her hand on your head to gently wake you up. She smiled at you, worry still apparent in her eyes. She glanced over at your notebook that was left with tiny scribbles and unfinished notes, your scattered pens and whatnots, and the forgiving pile of textbooks resting just above your notebook. 

“We're about to start class, but I'll let you continue with that Miss Y/n.” The soothing voice of your teacher allowed you to calm down as she made her way back to the front to greet everyone again.

Everyone, including you, stood up to greet her back. Your 3 hours of sleep caught up to you quicker than you thought. You felt fatigued and it frustrated you. You have gone hours without sleep but had never felt this weak before. As everyone sat down, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You felt stupid for turning your head so quickly to whoever's eyes it was, because it was him. Your eyes met, suddenly your tired eyes softened. It took a good minute before you two eventually broke eye contact. 

Your face felt hot and you found yourself eyes wide open, listening to your teacher discuss the lesson of the day, actively taking notes like you always did. It was all for the means of trying to push away the feeling and image in your head that kept replaying the way he blinked slowly as he looked into your eyes and looked down before turning his head away from you.

What you weren't able to catch was how he scanned through your features, that even with a slightly swollen face as a result of your prolonged nap, you still looked surreal. 

He tried to push his worry at the back of his mind. When he walked in the classroom earlier that day, you were already passed out on your desk. Usually you'd be talking with your friends from the other class just outside the classroom before class starts or you would be sitting on your seat and cramming schoolwork or studying for a test. He grew more and more concerned as the ringing of the school bell inched closer and closer and you were still fast asleep. Your head shifted a bit causing one of your pens to roll off of your desk. Anton was quick to pick it up, quietly placing it on your desk. Everyone else in the classroom seemed to not be minding the both of you, the final exams were approaching, everyone was busy finishing what they had to. Anton found his hand hovering over your hair. He wanted to wake you up, in fact, he needed to. But the bell caught up to him, and the next thing you know, your English teacher was the one who woke you with what he had envisioned. 

Throughout the day, you just sat nicely on your seat, finishing the notes you missed the previous day during breaks and attentively listening to your teachers and taking notes during class.

During lunch time, you still had your eyes glued to your math textbook while writing down notes in your notebook. The classroom started to empty itself, the students heading to the cafeteria to get themselves full.

“Y/n, are you almost done? Have lunch first. You've been there since you got here.” you look up to see Xen and Sohee, hands linked, both giving you a warm smile.

“Go ahead. I'll follow, just have to try and understand this equation.” Xen pats your head lightly with a soft chuckle.

“Okay, we'll wait for you.” Xen says softly before leaving the room with Sohee.

The sound of the soles of your shoes continuously hitting the tiles beneath your feet filled the room as your right leg began shaking out of frustration and the struggle of not being able to comprehend the math problem you were met with. You were never good at math, at least when you entered highschool. You could've sworn you were that math genius in class who always had an answer for everything back in your elementary and middle school days, and yet, here you are now with your eyebrows nearly touching and your lips forming a slight pout because of math. You didn't know what it was, but your eyes landed on Anton's seat drawn to it like a bee to a field of flowers. Maybe it was because you were getting impatient with yourself not being able to figure out this one math problem, but you were not expecting Anton to be sitting there in his seat, facing you. 

He looked away, you could kind of see his body growing tense as he breathed in, eyes shifting around on the floor. 

“Why are you still here?” you ask nonchalantly. 

It took a while to get any kind of response from him, so you just went back to staring at the other problem you were dealing with. 

“I-I can help you with —with that… if you want….” your eyes grew larger after hearing his soft voice above you.

He stood next to you, eyeing what you have been struggling on for quite a while now. 

“I just don't understand.” you blurt out. 

Anton flinched a bit at the clear frustration reflected in your tone. He grabbed a chair nearby and hesitantly sat next to you, keeping a great distance. It wasn't long until he was able to take a grasp of the problem, what took long was for him to muster up the courage to speak up.

When he was finally over his contemplation, you beat him to it. But as soon as the air from your voice hit the corners of his ear, his eyes landed at the back of his hands that were peacefully settled on his lap. What you blurted out next was not in his list of expectations. “Do you hate me?” 

He was stuck frozen in his seat. He was bummed. He knew he messed it up. He wanted to ask why you would even think that, but he was aware of his actions for the past few months, he just didn't realize how badly it affected you. He thought you never cared, but he never knew you were just that good at hiding it. He felt bad, but also didn't want to assume your thoughts or feelings. Sure, he had memorized the features of your face and how your eyes would glisten against the harsh sunlight seeping through the classroom windows, how your brows would furrow every time you heard or witnessed something cringey, how your lips would subconsciously form a pout whenever you were concentrated on something, and your voice, he loved it the most. The first time he heard a melody slip out of your tongue he thought an angel was coming to retrieve him, and your laughter, he can't help but smile so fondly whenever he replayed it in his head. He admired your confidence and ability to connect with others despite stating in your first day introduction that you were the epitome of introverted. But it was all surface level stuff for him, he still didn't quite understand you fully, and he wanted to. He was undeniably love-struck.

Realizing how quiet it had been for a lengthy couple of minutes, you sighed. “I'm sorry for being so sudden with this —It's just, did I do something wrong? Am I just assuming that you've been avoiding me? or were you really avoiding me? Why so?”

Anton watched as you let your frustrations fire out like you were being chased, breathy tone and all. He hated himself for being oblivious of the fact that he had you feeling this uneasy.

“I like you.” he never thought he'd be able to utter these very words to you ever. 

It was dead silent. You turned your head to the side, looking for his eyes and you felt delighted to meet them again. You scanned his features, was he always this beautiful? —you ask yourself. You noticed the shift of color in his cheeks making you chuckle. Anton's eyes widened, his shoulders lifting itself slightly.

“You're not just saying that, right? you mean it?” your mellow and warm tone taunted his ears and he couldn't help but look away and smile.

“I mean it.” he urged softly. 

The two of you mindlessly wandered in each other's eyes, and soon, the gap between the two of you came to a close. His lips felt so warm and velvety. You felt a sweep of hot air hit your lips. Anton pulled away leaving a small distance between the two of you, looking down on your lips, gradually making his way to your eyes that had just fluttered open when his lips parted from yours.

“Y/n? your food's getting co—” Xen's calling ended with a gasp as she stood by the door being met with the sight of Anton just inches away from eating your face.

“What's going… on.” At this point, Anton was facing away from the door, looking down the floor once again with his hand behind his neck while you were left just sitting there with your eyes almost popping out of your head just staring at the couple standing by the door of your classroom eyeing the two of you.

“Um—uh, sorry. I'm just gonna fix my stuff.” The absence of clarity in your tone was evident and you can hear the soft giggles from Xen and Sohee along with some exchanged whispers.

“We're gonna head back. We'll be expecting you there, yeah?” Sohee glanced over at Anton who was now standing up. “You too Ant.”

Xen and Sohee flee from the scene while you struggled with putting away your stuff with your shaky hands, your notebook ended up slipping from your hand which Anton attempted to catch, but failed in the process. A small laugh escaped your mouth, you found this little action of his adorable. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly, mumbling a little apology for his poor attempt of saving your notebook from hitting the ground. 

When the two of you got to the cafeteria, you only had 15 minutes left to finish your food. You sat down next to Xen who was exchanging looks with Sohee.

“Ant, dude sit here, would you?” Anton stopped in his tracks on the way to get food when Sohee held him by his forearm.

Anton's eyes subconsciously found their way into yours again, quickly breaking it after the scene from earlier flashed before his eyes. “Yeah sure.” he murmured quietly, nodding and speeding to go get food to hide his flushed face.

You felt some heat climb up your cheeks. You could still feel the warmth of his lips against yours like a phantom. 

The outcome of the confrontation was not what you expected at all. You wanted to approach things with a go-with-the-flow mindset even with how troubled you were with everything going on. You expected him to just be sorry and shy away from you, but the sudden confession drowned your head with thoughts. Do you like him too? The feeling that guided you to that very situation was the feeling of guilt, confusion and slight despise, but now, you just didn't even know how to function properly without thinking about him. It was all so sudden, but you were thankful that this 'something' he had involving you was not driven by negative feelings.

When Anton sat across from you, you looked up at him. You saw his adam's apple bob up and back down. When you heard Xen clear her throat that's when you realized that you've been staring at Anton for the past five minutes, at his lips to be more specific.

Anton flicked his tongue over his top lip, needless to say, he is far from recovering from what had just occurred in your classroom earlier. He could feel your eyes on him, and deep down he was wondering, does she like me too?

Later that day, you took the liberty of asking Anton for his number, his Line i.d., Kakao, anything. 

Anton stood with his back facing his locker and you in front of him. Despite the ridiculous height difference and the fact that you've been looking up at him the entire time, he treated the situation as if you were some jock and he was this sweet and nerdy girl.

“I brought you here to ask for your contacts, and maybe, we can talk about today —well, about everything.” Anton was a bit shocked since he was the one who confessed, he was the one with the overbearing feelings, yet you still had to be the one to break the walls to reach him.

“Yeah, jus' —here.” He hurriedly gave you his phone.

His ears had been red the entire time, but then his face turned red too seeing your soft eyes look up at him without moving your head. You laughed which made him smile but at the same time, confused. 

“You have face ID on your phone?” you asked casually.

Anton hastily nods his head right after he finally realizes it. You held his phone up to his face, and it opened, but then he snatched his phone away from you the moment the screen lit up.

“Sorry, I just… uh —here.” he hands you back the phone, now with his line account open. 

You quickly sent him a friend request that you accepted as soon as you saw it pop up on his phone. Then you exit the line app. 

Silence…

Anton was staring at you, wide-eyed, and you were staring at his phone, also wide-eyed. His homescreen wallpaper is a photo of you, a photo you did not know the existence of. You went on to check for his phone number like your hand wasn't getting shaky at that point. You give him back his phone once you're done with everything.

“Thank you, Anton.” Anton could've been easily mistaken for a fire hydrant because of how red he became, and hearing you say his name so softly, hearing you talk to him, finally, it felt like he was going to implode right then and there.

You turned around to make your way to the exit, you went two steps forward before you were stopped by Anton's unassuming voice. “I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry.”

You wanted to turn around and tell him that he has plenty to be sorry for, but given his seemingly true intentions, maybe, just maybe, he would make it up to you without you uttering a single word about it.

“Hey, it's fine. Well, not really —or, yeah. Let's just talk about this later.” you faced him as you spoke, ending your sentence with a weary wave.

He watched you walk out the school building, hands gripping on your backpack's straps. 

The moment Anton got home, he immediately took a shower, changing into comfier clothing. He already had his phone in his hand with his line messages open. He stared at your contact and thought of how he should open a conversation with you. He sat at the edge of his bed, typing and deleting messages over and over again.

You were lying on your bed already during all of this. You watched his typing status appear and disappear, and then reappear again.

Anton shifted around on his bed and eventually found himself lying on his stomach, his feet touching and raised up in the air refusing contact with his bed.

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile even if it made no sense for you to do so since you were all alone in your room and you doubt that Anton could see you through his phone screen.

Though Anton appeared to be shameless with his messages, the heat and color of his face says otherwise. 

Anton watched your typing status appear, and it remained there. He didn't know if it was because of the rapid beating of his heart but you've been typing for a long time, which you were.

You were carefully thinking of what to say next. But then you thought for a moment, shouldn't he be the one to keep talking? He had a lot to explain after all.

At this point you were flushed as well. You found his endearing quirks in chat to be cute and humorous.

Maybe this is why his friends are so fond of him —you thought as you glanced over your exchanged messages with a smile.

Anton now laid flat on his back. He quickly turned off his phone, his cheeks remaining the same hue as it was when you two started messaging. He smiled at the thought of you two finally having an actual conversation. Though he never thought it would be about his unforeseen confession, he still felt so lucky, so warm inside that he could finally push forward with his feelings. Anxiousness would soon follow moments after he had closed his eyes. He was sadly still far from feeling redemption. He started nit-picking his own thoughts of the many ways he can make it up to you, and maybe he gets to call you his by the end of it. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[bleach-your-panties]

Kinktober Day 7 💋 with Shoto Todoroki

Warnings: praise, dirty talk (that's somehow sugary sweet still because it's Shoto), overstimulation (ofc), oral (f! receiving), dacryphilia, fingering, penetration, Shoto uses his quirk (ofc), pool sex, multiple orgasms, swimwear kink? 

—-

▶️: dive in - trey songz

▶️: wet the bed - chris brown ft. ludacris

—-

—-

Ooo, I'm about to dive in 

Woah, oh, oh, oh

---

Splash.

This is your third lap around the school's Olympic-sized swimming pool. You're preparing yourself for UA's upcoming swim meet against Ketsubutsu University.

Along with Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, Kaminari, Sero, Uraraka, and Ojiro, you were quite enthused when UA decided to implement competitive sports teams. It was quite refreshing for you, a business major with a love for sports.

With the breadth of the hero course's curriculum, you really couldn't see how they'd even have the time for sports outside of hero training, but they seemed to all make it work somehow.

Including your boyfriend, Shoto.

He's a part of UA University's Big Three along with Midoriya and Bakugou and also on the men's swim team with them.

That was how the two of you met and started dating. At your first swim meet against Shiketsu College.

Of course you knew of the infamous Todoroki son from high school's sports festivals and the like, but you had zero interactions with him or any of his classmates due to your differing course schedules at the time.

Now that you all are in college, the course requirements cause students with all different majors to mesh together, as they all share many of the same prerequisite classes needed in order to graduate with a full academic degree.

Once you started dating, Shoto's cold (no pun intended) outer exterior began to melt away (also no pun intended) as you began to worm your way right into his heart.

After you finished your final lap, you pulled yourself out of the pool to sit on the stone steps that led out of it.

Wringing out your wet hair, you pulled it off your shoulders and up into a messy bun with a few pieces hanging in your face.

"Well, that should just about do it for today." You triumphantly told yourself, your chlorine-soaked face twisting up ever so slightly into a confident smile as you thought about winning the meet and then going out afterwards to celebrate with all your friends.

And with Shoto.

—

The sound of your gym locker slamming shut echoed around the empty changing room. With your heavy school and gym bags slung over either shoulder, you were ready to make your way back to the dorms.

"Going somewhere, little lamb?"

A deep, sultry voice cooed out from somewhere behind you.

You turned abruptly, slightly startled by the tone of the all-too familiar male's icy tone.

"Hey, Sho. What's up? I didn't know that you guys had practice this evening." 

He stepped from around the corner, his tall, lean, 6'2" frame approaching you swiftly thanks to his long, muscled legs. 

No doubt he's the fastest swimmer on the men's team with those legs.

His bi-colored hair, split perfectly down the middle, was dribbling water down his forehead. A white towel slung over his neck soaked up any remaining droplets as your eyes moved from his forehead down to his heterochromatic eyes, his bare chest, washboard abs, and finally…

His raging hard-on that was all-too perspicuous in those tight, spandex navy blue, white, and red shorts.

A ghost of a smirk upturned his top lip as he watched you check him out. He even shook his head a bit from side to side, making water fly off of his hair in random directions.

"That's because we didn't. Coach had to leave early because of a family emergency."

"O-oh? Well, that's unfortunate to hear." 

"Mhm."

Before you knew it, Shoto had your back pinned against the lockers. His lips ghosted up your neck, while his sneaky fingers went to grasp your right breast, massaging the nipple through your thin white T-shirt until it was hard.

Your hands came up to wrap around his neck, but he grabbed them up in his other hand and pinned them above your head.

"Mmm, Shoto, what's all this, daddy?" You cooed, eyes dilating while watching him.

"Been wanting you all day. When you texted me that you had practice this afternoon, all I could think about was you in your bathing suit. Soaking wet, nipples hardening when they hit the air, and perfectly outlining your pussy. I don't even know how the school allows you to wear these skimpy ass things, but I'm not complaining."

You giggled and angled your face to kiss his jaw, which made him blush.

So he was still your bashful, cute Shoto, even while overcome with undeniable lust for you. Perfect.

"Let my arms down, Sho. Want to blow your big cock, baby~"

Shoto recovered from his blush almost instantaneously and shook his head.

"No can do, beautiful. I have to have your pussy in my mouth right now.

He growled under his breath, almost inaudibly, and moved to pull your athletic shorts down to your knees. You stepped out of them, leaving your fat, swimsuit-covered pussy on display.

"You didn't shower yet?"

Your turn to blush now as you shook your head.

"I was g-going to once I made it to the dorms." 

"Don't fret, darling. I only ask because I want to eat this pussy fresh out of the pool."

Damn was he turning you on! He could eat you however and wherever he wanted to at this point! 

"Go ahead, Sho. Do whatever you want to me.."

He clicked his tongue and lowered himself to his knees, finally letting your arms go. You sighed in relief and threaded your fingers through his soft, wet hair.

"Whatever I want? Be careful what you ask for, pretty. Jump."

You did as he asked; he caught you under the thighs and pushed you further up against the locker, which was uncomfortable, but you couldn't be bothered to care.

Especially not when Shoto started sucking on your lower lips through your swimsuit. 

"Ooooh, Sho, that feels good, daddy… don't stop!"

He wasn't going to.

Shoto balanced your thighs over his shoulders and you let yourself rest on them while he took a hand to move the now-saliva-soaked material covering your pussy aside to rub your clit with his fingers.

You didn't know how long you'd be able to last like this. Shoto's fingers were like fucking magic where making you come undone was concerned.

"Yeah, that feel good, baby? Want me to put them inside?" 

His heterochromatic eyes were locked on your e/c ones as he began rubbing more vigorously, holding your clit between his middle and ring fingers with his entire palm covering your labia.

"Y-y-yessss, shit! So good, baby!" 

"Fuuuccck, you're already shaking. You missed me today, yeah?" 

No answer from you.

"Come on. Blink once for yes, twice for no." 

One blink.

"Good girl~" Shoto took his fingers off your clit and angled them upwards before sticking them inside you.

Your back fell off the locker, but Shoto caught you, chuckled, and positioned you back against it. He lifted your right leg up, pressed it against your chest and let your foot rest beside his head.

"How do you want it, baby girl?" He asked sweetly before he pressed a few soft, wet kisses to your inner thigh.

"Come on, talk to me." He then slapped your thigh, which woke you up from your dumbstruck haze.

"W-want both…want it all…need it all, Sho."

He smirked and suddenly you felt his fingers turn ice cold as he plugged them deep inside your core, making you choke out a few moans.

"Sh-FUCK!"

"Ooo yeah, love it when I make you curse, baby." 

He then switched hands, faster than the speed of light and now you were filled with a satisfying warmth. It wasn't long before you were gushing all over his hand.

"That's one. Come here, baby. Let me lay that perfect body down."

Shoto pulled you off the wall and hoisted you over his shoulder.

"You trust me to try something?" He asked as he patted your butt while he carried you out to the pool.

"Mhm, trust you with my life, Sho." 

That warmed his heart and made him genuinely smile.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too, Sho."

Shoto situated you at the edge of the pool. You dipped your legs in while he sat on his knees in front of you, half-submerged in the water.

"So pretty, looking like a fucking princess on her throne." He praised, rubbing your legs with both hands while he bent to kiss your knees all the way up your thighs.

"How long do you think I can hold my breath underwater?"

"H-huh?"

He didn't answer you; instead, Shoto moved his head between your legs and used his teeth to move your swimsuit aside. One hand pulled it and held it out of the way while his mouth ravished you.

You mewled, head thrown back, one elbow placed against the slippery, wet step to balance yourself. Shoto took your leg and brought it to his shoulder again, holding it while he made a mess of your pussy.

Licking and sucking softly, his lips moved like he was French-kissing you on the mouth.

"Sho, shit! That's so good, baby. Fuck, eat me out, just like that~♡!" 

His entire head was in between your legs as if breathing meant nothing to him.

Your thighs began to shake again but he held fast, spreading you open wider as he went wild between them. 

His red and white hair shook from side to side as he ate you with vigor like you were the last thing he'd ever taste.

"SHOTO!"

"Mmmmhmmm.…"

He hummed on your pussy, making it vibrate. That was the last straw for you. 

He had to grip both thighs tight in order to keep you from tumbling over into the pool head first. You squirted again, making his eyebrows shoot up. 

When you came down from your high, Shoto's entire face was drenched, which made you blush.

"So good, baby. You did a perfect job, my love."

He didn't even bother to wipe his face before dragging you by the hips to rest right on the last step. Your lower half was now submerged in a shallow bit of water.

"One more for me, baby. Can you cum one last time on my cock? Hmm, pretty baby?"

You nodded eagerly, though you felt the strength rapidly leaving your body. 

Shoto lowered his swim trunks, your eyes watching his every movement until his cock finally popped out.

It's so long; pretty and thick with a fat, pink tip. Pre-cum ran down the shaft only making you want to get up on your knees and lick it up.

"Spread your legs a little, baby. Just like that. Stay right there."

He gripped it in his right hand, stroking a little before tapping it on your clit, making the little bud jump in excitement.

"Sho, no teasing, please….need you…"

"You have me, baby. Oh God, do you have me…" He whispered softly, eyes totally focused on easing his dick head into your cunt.

A shiver coursed through your entire body once Shoto was inside. He used his left side to warm you up, making your belly flare with heat once he began stroking.

Stroke left.

"Sho…"

He knew you were on the verge of breaking down.

Switch it up, now he's moving slowly, thrusting deeply in you, swirling his hips, making the water splash around your waist as his dick is now as cold and hard as a freezer pop.

"Sho!"

"Yes…" He coached as his eyes watched you like a hawk: your facial expressions, your breathing. Everything. He wanted to see it all. To watch you completely unravel, just for him. Only for him.

Stroke right.

His own thighs were beginning to burn from how much work he was putting in, but with his stamina, he could last another two rounds only if you were able to handle it.

Which you're not.

"God, Shoto…" 

"Yeah, baby. Call for me. Are you cumming?" 

Your stomach was tense, jaw slacked, and thighs sore from being held open for so long.

"I said are you cumming, Y/n? Answer me, baby girl. Do you want me to stop? Stop you from getting that nut?"

Tiredly but eagerly, you shook your head no.

"Then answer my question. Are you close?" 

"Y-yes." 

"What's that?" 

"Y-yes! Yes Shoto, I'm so close! I can't take it anymore, please just give me your cum!" You cried, tears bubbling at your lash line and threatening to spill over.

He had the nerve to chuckle. God, how he loved your tear-stricken face. Loved to see and hear you go delirious on his cock.

"You want my cum? You have to give me something first, precious. You know what I want." 

"I can't, Sho…please..!" 

"You can. I'm going to help you, baby…help you lose it on my fucking cock." 

He spread you impossibly wider, making you almost do a complete split as he drilled his cock into you.

That wasn't all though, oh no.

As he fucked you senseless, he alternated the temperature of his dick with each thrust.

The moans you let out were very hot and pornographic. If anyone out in the hallway was to walk by, they'd most certainly know that you were getting fucked and by whom you were getting fucked.

You couldn't stop chanting Shoto's name, and he wouldn't stop thrusting.

"Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Come on. Fuck! That's good…. I feel it, baby, oh shit! Feel you clenching on me, unnghhhh, goddamnit….!"

The water sloshed all around the both of you and you let out one final, long scream of Shoto's name. Your squirt shot out of your pussy and splashed high against his abdomen.

After seeing and feeling you squirt all over his dick, Shoto came hard as hell, filling you to the brim with his nut.

With his last bit of strength, he pulled the two of you up and out of the water and fixed his shorts back up on his hips.

He pulled you against his chest and peppered the side of your head with soft kisses.

"Did so good for me, my baby. So proud of you."

You could barely hear him, but you smiled. You almost fell asleep in his arms until he nudged you back awake.

"What is it, Sho?" 

Your eyes followed his to a black, white, and red sign depicting a stick figure running with a red circle and slash mark going through the image.

Shoto smirked.

"No Running in the Pool Area." 

----

ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ🫶🏽

[nyaniikat]

Alpha ftm reader x bakugo 👉🏻👈🏻 reader is really Stoic and cold (even more then todo) and refuses to fight other students when they train. But when villains attack he gets really violent and protective of his classmates and especially bakugo.

Thank you for this request!

•---------•

Alpha Ftm reader/Omega Bakugou

-Reader has a healing quirk however the more he uses it on someone it can start to hurt them. Reader can also use a bow and arrow since they use it as a defense weapon in case there is an enemy charging from afar and they need to protect the injured.

7/7/2023: I did not proofread this properly so I apologize if you suffer a lot reading this. This fic was started months ago

Fem aligned DNI

Masterlist

Another earful from Aizawa sensei. This time he was threatening you to get your shit together when fighting other students for training, Aizawa sensei having a mothers anger but a dads concern really sent chills down your back.

You didn't like fighting with other students, the only ones you would fight were villains. Accidentally hurting people with your quirk fears you but no one would know with the stone look on your face. Your classmates were scared to talk to you or involve you with anything as you didn't look the type to involve yourself in things. You barely show any emotion and the way you tower over (almost) everyone is already enough to make them feel afraid of you. It didn't help that people knew you were trans, your classmates assured you that they don't really care and they like you as you however the weird rumours from other students were something that couldn't be easily ignored.

But, there was one person in class you can't seem to get out of your head. Bakugou Katsuki, the hot-headed omega that acted like a proper alpha, honestly? that's the hottest thing you've seen an omega be and he isn't like that to be attention seeking but to always try to get some sort of point across in an aggressive way. You were definitely interested in him, but your short answers were something that annoyed him and so he didn't want to talk to you at all and ignored your attempts for a conversation and a lunch or dinner out.

At some point he agreed to be by your side but only temporarily as he wasn't entirely attached to you the way you were to him.

"I'm only agreeing to this because your quirk is useful if I'm injured shithead" Is what he says

It hurts to hear that but you were determined to make him fully yours.

Then suddenly your boss told you, you were going for a team-up as there were a handful of difficult villains on the street wrecking everything, they needed your quirk on the field as things weren't going so well.

However, when you and your team arrived it was a mess, you saw a few of your classmates injured and being taken away from the fight while others did their best to help the pros. But your breath hitched and everything fell silent to your ears when you saw the one guy you were interested in fall to the ground struggling to pick himself up,

That's when your anger got to you, seeing your classmates especially Bakugou being injured and trying to pick themself up despite the broken bones hurt you. Even though you don't say much and minimize your interaction with your classmate they are still people important to you and people that made you feel warm inside, and it didn't help that one of those people that made you feel warm inside was your potential mate.

Grabbing your bow and arrow you immediately start shooting at the enemy whilst heading over to Bakugou. but a pro hero started covering for you as you ran to get to Bakugou, kneeling down over his tired body and picking it up with ease sprinting to a safe place to heal him.

A majority of the injured had quirks that worked long-range or was a support quirk so they still helped out from the safe zone. But right now your main focus was on him, broken bones, large open wounds on his body, and multiple scars that covered him. Focusing your all on healing his bones first and closing up the large wounds, your hands covered in his blood desperately trying to close it up.

"Heal heal heal please.. heal..."

Closing your eyes, you felt yourself get dizzy as the energy in your body slowly drained out to save the other. At this point, you were getting reckless by the second. You didn't even care if you stood by his side by the end of this fight, just as long as he was alive you would feel relieved even from the grave.

A coughing noise entered your hearing, and your eyes shot open at the sight of Bakugou coughing as his breathing started to even you felt a breath of relief leave your body but the lack of energy you now have is making you feel light-headed from using your quirk past its limit. Quickly wrapping up Bakugous's wound, make sure to clean up the blood as best you can.

A hand was placed on your shoulder, looking up you see Aizawa giving a concerned look.

"Right after this you're resting, you've pushed yourself beyond your limit."

"Wait what about the others who are injured?"

"They're being taken care of and the villain has been captured. I expect to see you resting in a bit."

You nodded your head, as you finish wrapping up the guy you have a silly crush on. Standing up, Aizawa led you to another area where you could take a quick water break and get some quick shut-eye to regain some strength.

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"WHERE'S THAT IDIOT?!"

Your eyes now wide open, feeling startled you got your bow out and started pointing to where the noise is coming from. All you saw next was a guy running towards you, holding you by the collar, and then yelling at you about how you're an idiot for trying to save him and not other people on the field. But due to your tiredness, you didn't register the fact that Bakugou was holding you up and shaking you around like a dusty tablecloth until he dragged you somewhere that was quiet.

"Hey, heyy you're supposed to be resting! you're not meant to be up for another 3 hours"

"3 HOURS MY ASS, YOU NEED 3 HOURS"

"OKAY okay! I get it! Now stop yelling or else you won't be able to speak for 2 weeks"

Saying that shut him up real quick as he looks away with a 'tsk'

"Can you uh.. stop holding me now? I mean I don't mind you holding me but I know you definitely mind holding me."

He didn't let his hands go off the collar of your shirt

"Uhm Baku-

" When I got up the first thing Kirishima and Deku told me was that you rescued me and used your energy on me ya know."

Now you were the one that shut up real quick

"I know how much you've been making an effort to make me your mate but this is not the way to do it. You and I both know that you shouldn't be using all your energy on one person."

Now you were the one looking away with a 'tsk'

"You were bleeding a lot Katsuki, so I had to concentrate on you. I can still heal other people ya know. Even if I'm trying to make you my mate I still put my duty first"

"Is that duty to come straight running to me only to heal me with every energy you have despite knowing you could possibly hurt me in the process?"

He let go of you

"Oi look at me"

You look at him with fear and worry in your eyes whilst he looked back at you with concern

"Stop trying so hard, I already agreed to be by your side, didn't I?

"Yeah but you said it was temporary and you only want me for my quirk"

"Yeah and I lied"

"What?"

"I don't mind you being my mate"

"Even.. if I don't say much"

"Even if you don't say much"

"Even though I'm trans..?"

"Since when the fuck being trans means you're an entirely different person? You're still you, from when you introduced yourself to me and other people, and right now in this conversation, you're still you"

"But what about those rumors?"

"Fuck those rumors, they're not even in our class or good friends with you to say shit like that! I'll beat them up later"

"Ah ah ah no beating people up"

"What?! why not?!"

"Because you still need to recover. Do you think you can beat people up right now?"

"Tsk I'll beat them up AFTER I'm done recovering dumbass"

You laughed a little, with the mood finally lightening up Katsuki gave a lazy smile

"So are you becoming my mate or not dumbass?"

"Hey I'm the one supposed to be asking that"

"Fuck that who cares, yes or no?!"

You grabbed him by the waist pulling him close to you, chest to chest

"Yes, and I know this is a terrible situation to ask considering you're injured but can I kiss you?"

"You ask too many fucking questions"

Katsuki says as he puts a hand behind your head to yank you in for a kiss and you accepted.

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"WOOOO LETS GO BAKUGO AND Y/N!!"

"WOOT WOOT!"

"WHAT THE FUCK HOW LONG WERE YOU GUYS STANDING THERE"

"WE FOLLOWED YOU TWO AND WE GOT TO SEE YOU MAKKKKEEE OUTTTT"

"WE WERE NOT MAKING OUT, GET OVER HERE"

Katsuki pushed you away as he went to chase after his red, yellow and pink-haired friends