#lovable cream

[gfriendunited]

© lovable cream | do not edit

[bananahkim]

I somehow like Mabel more than Dipper??

[keeksandgigz]

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, ���Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Ateez as Dads-

collab with loren @eightmakesonebraincell who shares the same single braincell as me bc we know we're not the only ones obsessed with the recent ateez x children content

(disclaimer: i don't like babies. but the idea of ateez handling babies? adorable. loren, however, loves kids so here's the outcome)

Hongjoong

"hold this thing, i don't know what to do with it."

"that's your child, hongjoong."

looks like the frightened hamster meme when the baby starts crying out of nowhere

sometimes sleeps through the baby crying its lungs out at night LMAO but that's only when he's exhausted asf

bet he'll write a song or two about fatherhood too and you'll be like 'what would you know about it you slept through the night'

may be uncomfortable at times but when he starts bonding, you'll see it in his actions

like when he reforms cute little things like clothings or shoes for his baby, adding little dangly things to the crib

or when he makes cute accessories for the baby

matching reformed things omg

super stylish matching parent-kid duo

the bonding literally happens with the smallest moment like one day the baby is crying in his arms and tugs at his shirt with its little fist and he's done for he loves his kid 10000x more all of a sudden

and when the baby calms down immediately after coming into his arms? he'll die of happiness

and when the baby recognises him in a group of people??? new level of dad unlocked

literally melts whenever the kid runs across the room to fly into his arms or calls him daddy

paints the room for his kid and gives them a wall in their room to paint whatever they like

lets the kid paint his nails and they could even have that one matching painted fingernail omg

later when the kid grows up they'll have uv lights and like the latest stuff for nails but you bet hongjoong's gonna dry that nail paint by blowing on it-

literally the most supportive, allowing the kid to explore beyond conventional boundaries and guiding them along

also very attentive esp when they start growing up and observing

he'll make sure he answers all of their curious little questions to the best of their understanding

and surprisingly, he won't mind his kid in his studio

like how adorable is it when you find your kid in his lap, sharing earphones as he composes?

he just loves it when they sit on him or when they lie down next to him/on top of him when he's resting that's his therapy

Seonghwa

more of a mother than the real mother

knows exactly what to do like he's raised six kids already (i'm looking at you ateez)

wakes up at ass o clock in the morning to shush the crying baby so you can get some sleep :')

mother-coded that's what he is

you'll definitely be learning motherhood from him LMAO

but jokes aside he's actually the best partner you could have asked for in such a situation

he's so so patient with the kid and you

esp you

he understands when you're overwhelmed and when you need a break

so he's always willing to give you some space and takes care of the kid in the meanwhile which is so :')

so you try your best to return it to him in every way as well <3

you'll both be figuring this journey out together and that's the best part

bonds with the kid so good

esp when they start going to school and he literally can't wait for them to get home so he can hear about how their day was

lives for the gossip he gets from his kids about school too LOL

he'll be like yass give me the tea come on

also pretty much behaves like a kid when he's having a good time with his kids

like he goes 'no it's my turn to select the ice cream flavour you have to try this you'll love it i'm not hearing a no-'

kids teach him new slangs but you bet he'll stick to the good old 'no cap' and 'yeet'

gets matching stupid stuff like those green alien glasses for him and the kid-

you just know your kids will love him more than you and you accept it. you don't mind that at all bc he's such a lovable person

he'll always be running around the house with them trying to catch them or letting them catch him

they will watch animated movies together and draw together and make legos together they're gonna share that obsession

he's there. always. in every moment of their life :')

Yunho

curious to learn

but that doesn't stop him from playing with the baby like they're a toy boi has no fear

he's always gushing over how small and cute and adorable they are

he'll also be a bit scared at first to hold the baby in his arms but will get used to it real quick

loves feeding them and cleaning them with you

he's got some sort of magic to him too he can soothe a crying baby in seconds

plays with them/holds them like they're a cat/puppy

gives them rides on his shoulders and they love it you can hear their laughter ring around the house

teases you about how they look nothing like you but if they do look like you more, he'll be scanning them for one similarity that he can boast about.

"he's got my smile. see?"

loves playing with their hair and combing and styling it

also loves it when you all match unintentionally when going out

the type to play with the kids in the most unconventional ways when you're not looking

almost accidentally drops the baby at least once a week- i said ALMOST okay he's good at catching.

kids cling on to his long legs and he effortlessly walks like no big deal omgg

would even swing his legs like an amusement ride which might possibly earn a scream from you-

also once used the laundry basket as a rollercoaster for the kid. you can imagine how that ended. no living beings were harmed tho-

HE'S A FUN DAD OK

literally his kids are always running around him asking him to do sth fun with them or tell them jokes or play with him

teaches the kids the latest trends

makes dancing tik toks with them

he's actually also the super responsible dad, always dependable. you literally have nothing to worry about esp bc he can be serious when he needs to be

he allows the kids to take challenges, believing the kids need to grow at their own pace and that getting hurt is also a part of growing up

teaches them to be kind, to respect people, to always smile

goes on dates with them to the amusement parks, aquariums, carnivals etc and when they're older they go fishing or go-karting

Yeosang

(sincerely apologise for using a photo with alcohol in a post with babies BUT DOES HE NOT LOOK BABY HERE???)

the babiest of dads

googles whatever the baby does as if that will give him the answer

notices every little thing the baby does

follows instructions like a robot

forgets that the baby is actually a baby and they can't really do their stuff themselves so he has to do it for them-

like for example after a meal he clears the high chair and forgets he needs to help the baby off the chair until it wails LOL

is always worrying about what the baby is feeling esp when it is crying without a reason

always fusses about the little things bc he cares so much :')

sometimes you have to sit him down and tell him that it's okay if the baby is crying-

he even enjoys simply watching the baby esp when they do stupid stuff or play around with food

"that's disgusting but so adorable"

gets taught the latest trends by his kid but still ends up using them in the wrong contexts lmao

yeosang and the kid wailing about the mom on their way home until yeo takes the wrong turn and the kid glares at him and points to the right direction

yeosang and the kid in the shopping mall and yeosang gets lost

goes to the counter to pay but taps his pockets bc he can't find his wallet and the kid sighs loudly and hands it to him

yeosang taking his kid to the parent teacher meeting and he forgets HE'S the parent

he may be forgetful and zone out at times but he's actually very responsible. you never worry whenever you leave your kid with him and go out. you can depend on him <3

you'll see him mature as his kids grow up too, like you can literally see him learning fatherhood

doesn't mean they won't open dexter's laboratory when you're gone and clean up the mess before you come-

sees cute posts about lunchboxes with octopus sausage and seaweed characters on the rice but canNOT replicate it even after spending hours but the kids flaunt it like a masterpiece at their school <3 (loren you're so right for this)

his kids' friends WILL have a crush on yeosang. the teachers might too. how could you not??

his kids gon be the prettiest istg-

San

i'm sorry to break it to you but you'll have to take care of two babies <3

as loren said 'normal children learn behaviours from their parents. san learns behaviours from the baby.'

pretends to cry when the baby is crying so he can also receive hugs and kisses from you

he's actually the most responsive father ever, like he'll know what's actually happening with the kid instead of pretending to know

it's like he's connected to them on an astral level

so he's pretty much a natural caretaker

like he said, he knows how to give love

so he'll never make you feel less loved as well

he'll keep reassuring you how imp you are to him esp now that you're the mother of his child and he'll always be grateful to you for bringing this blessing into his life

but he also has his moments LMAO like i can just imagine him playing with the kid in the most babiest of manners

to the point the kid refuses to listen to you

the kids will always ALWAYS choose him whenever they're asked the 'who do you love more mom or dad' question

and even though that makes you pissed momentarily bc pls who wouldn't get pissed you find it super adorable how much your kids love their dad

safe place.

tells his kids early on what's good and what's bad. no compromises

teaches them when to be sorry and when to stand up for themselves

taekwondo together <3 he'll make them show off at family events or stuff and demand that the audience give good reactions otherwise he's gonna pout sooo hard

he'll make sure his kids don't laze around. chores? yes. exercise? yes. nap-time? necessary. homework? don't even dare to say no. play-time? HELL YES

teaches traditional games to his kids too and makes them interact with other kids to play instead of video games so early on

the video games are HIS okay they can't touch it until they grow up

kids go to him for help in school work and he'll sit there all zoned out wondering when the hell this got included in their syllabus

will refuse to give up until you catch him tired and scratching his head in confusion

"i'm pretty sure education gets tougher every year."

"whatever helps you sleep at nights san <3" LOL

loves spending time together, all of you, anywhere as long as you all are together <3

Mingi

9/10 times will cry when the baby cries

but also really good at taking care of them and it amazes him too

calms the baby down with the cutest most concerned face ever so he looks more baby than the baby

pretends to sleep when the baby wakes up crying in the middle of the night

until you poke his stomach and go 'don't you fucking dare' and he starts laughing helplessly

but then takes the reins and lets you sleep if you look too done <3

jokingly tries to gaslight you into thinking it's your turn to settle the baby but you bet you're keeping tabs too

but when he sees how tired you look, he'll never ever complain no matter how tired he may be himself. will even tuck YOU into bed

the type to sit in the lounge with some kid's show on with the kid itself and you give him snacks to feed the kid

but at some point he got a taste and now he's looking at the packaging and going 'this shit good' when it's actually some baby-friendly snack 😭

and then suddenly it's all gone and the kid is glaring at mingi with angry eyes 😭😭 and he's like pleasure is temporary my child-

but now he has his own fav baby snacks too.

does freestyle rapping about the misery of fatherhood LMAO

also does lame stuff like tapping on the baby's shoulder and when they turn to look at him he has his finger out so it pokes the baby's cheek like-

gets matching shades for him and the kid

hangs out with them a lot, even if it's inside

hears every story they have to tell but also they just looooveee to hear stories from him bc he's a good storyteller

even though half of the shit is made up but he pretends it actually happened-

"one time i saw your mom ugly crying in a shop. i asked her what the matter was. she saw me and fell in love instantly."

"wasn't it the other way?"

loves swinging his kids in his arms whenever he comes home and then you stand there all pouty and he runs after you-

can't scold kids to save himself. can never. always bursts out laughing whenever he glares at them. so you do that for him.

now you're the antagonist in the house

can't handle when his kids are being adorable like he'll just clutch his heart and pretend to faint

best father-kid dynamic bc he's the playful but responsible dad

Wooyoung

he's a natural at this come on

"i feel like he's more my sibling than my own child"

always has his baby in his arms to the point you have to snatch it from him bc you can see he's tired

takes care of everything- from bathing them to feeding them. he's so good at it too

you love him even more bc he may tease you to bits but you never thought he'd be a cooperative lovable menace too

talks to the baby in baby language and they actually hold conversations

and when you join he'll just make fun of you LOL

starts treating you like a baby too when you're tired and you're not sure you hate that you might actually start doing it on purpose too-

taught the kid the art to charm people so they're throwing random cheeky compliments around

like they'll go to a shop and the kid will compliment the shopkeeper and they'll be like omg so precious and hand freebies

and those freebies would be wooyoung's earnings btw aint no way the kid gon have those

will train a family of cutest loveable menaces :')

the chef dad

creates masterpiece lunchboxes for his kids that even the teachers are tempted to steal

i can just imagine the girl friend (also crush) of wooyoung's son at school having a big fat crush on wooyoung and wanting to marry him like come on😭😭

then the son gets super grumpy about it and woo sits him down and asks what's bothering him

then he'll teach him how to bake cookies and the son ends up sweeping the girl off her feet omgg

woo placing his hands over his kid's hands bc they're too small to properly hold the piping bag when they decorate cakes and cookies and cupcakes

them playing in the kitchen and throwing flour on each other and you come and look all smugly at woo bc yes you're gonna clean this mess later on

but you end up joining them :')

dolls up his kids and asks them to kiss him on both his cheeks before they leave

and you bet the kids love that routine

hugs. all the time. hugs.

makes sure to capture these moments for memories if you haven't already and he'll love looking back at these days <3

Jongho

best dad

makes sure he doesn't forget to take care of you as you take care of the baby :')

always gets surprised when the baby does sth new

priceless reactions from him, esp when the baby first says a comprehensible word or takes its first steps

always spreading his arms whenever he spots the baby so the baby can crawl/walk/run to him

swings them in the air and does those little throws

the strong dad. the one who's carrying the kids effortlessly- one on the shoulder, one under the arm, walking as if they weigh nothing

jongho's kid: hi i'm hungry

jongho: hi hungry, i'm dad

overuses every dumb dad joke ever to exist but still finds it super hilarious and sometimes you'll end up laughing along

"back in my days-"

"ah shit here we go again."

bc you know dad jokes aside he's actually a super funny guy when he wants to be

the type to team up with his kid to tease YOU

whispers shit in their ears like 'go pull out your mom's hairclip as revenge for her not letting us hang out in the snow with ice cream last night' when you're super occupied and gets a good laugh out of it

taps your shoulder and then looks away when you glare at him but ends up pointing at the kid like the kid's the one who did it-

when the two are a giggling mess it's hard to differentiate who's the actual kid from the parent

sings with his kids a lot. might vocally train them a bit too

road trips are gonna be so much more fun when everyone's singing at the top of their lungs

when his kid is older and starts to get school assignments that require some form of art like creating a model or designing a poster, his kid is definitely going to score an A because jongho can and WILL help and end up over-achieving LOL

will plan with his kids on days like valentine's or mother's day or anniversary, prepare to get serenaded by the lot

he involves them a lot in everything so they grow up super smart

loves doing stupid things with the kids too like he'll literally be the one following the kids at times

but you love it bc you never have to worry about anything with him ;-; <3 he's also super protective

unless there's a bug in front of you. then you're all on your own.

[luvt0kki]

closer | j.w.y

pairing: foxhybrid!Wooyoung x f!reader ( ft. husband!Hongjoong)

♡₊˚ inspired by one of my fave fics by @kitten4sannie ( Spilled Milk is an all time favourite of mine, hybrid!woo is so hard not to write about)

summary: It was supposed to be just for a while but even then, when your next-door neighbor had asked you and your husband to look after his fox hybrid, Wooyoung, you had found yourself being fond of his red fluffy fox ears and his playfulness. But when your neighbor got a better job opportunity abroad, you and your husband weren’t able to say no to letting the lovable and loyal hybrid into your home and your lives. The thing is, this fox hybrid was particularly fond of his new owners wife. He couldn’t help it.

wc: 10.5k (kinda proofread but too many words brain hort, sorry for errors :< )

cw: hybrid AU, smut, foxhybrid!wooyoung, afab and wife!reader, pregnancy, mommy kink, dubcon-ish ( consent is very important guys), lactation kink, cream pie ( wrap it before you tap it please), husband!Hongjoong, breeding kink, somnophillia, subby!Woo, pregnancy hormones, Woo goes into rut, handjob, fingering, cunnilingus, oral, dom!hongjoong ( cause yes)

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: hello so it’s been awhile! This is definitely not one of my best works but I had brainrot...l I'm not yet fully back but will slowly post from time to time. I know this is a random post that's not related to trainings wheels or swm but ahh I just really wanted to write this. I hope you guys will enjoy this as it was something I wanted to write to take a break from sway with me. This took me 3 months since I was so busy. sorry for being ia guys! I'm still here I swear!

READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

It was supposed to be temporary.

It was supposed to be just for a while but even then, when your next-door neighbor had asked you and your husband to look after his fox hybrid, Wooyoung, you had found yourself being fond of his red fluffy fox ears and his playfulness. You were okay with having Wooyoung around for a month and having him stay with you for when his owner was away for business trips. But then when your neighbor had gotten a better job opportunity abroad and had asked you and Hongjoong to take in his loyal friend and hybrid, you had found yourself reluctant but it was so hard to say no when Wooyoung himself had said that he’d want to be with you and your husband.

Eventually, Wooyoung was fully moved in and slowly became a part of your and Hongjoong’s lives, forming a little unit.

At-home movie nights with your husband now included the energetic and affectionate hybrid, walks in the park too, and even though he had his own room, he would sometimes sneak into the master bedroom to lie next to you, sandwiching you between him and Hongjoong. In fact, it was your husband who was more than happy to take in Wooyoung so that you wouldn’t be alone when he’s at work and that you’d have a companion for when you go out.

“I swear, I think he likes you more than me.” Hongjoong chuckled as he was fixing his tie.

“I’m sure he loves us both equally, Joong.” You told him, still on the bed and watching him get ready to go to work.

“I’d beg to differ, darling. He’s more clingy with you.” Hongjoong met your eyes through the mirror. “More touchy too.”

“He’s very affectionate and he loves getting scratched behind his cute ears.”

You still didn’t believe that Wooyoung had favorites.

Throwing off the covers and getting up, you began to make the bed, unaware of your husband’s wandering eyes drinking in your form in your silk lingerie sleepwear. The camisole top and short shorts were a new set he hasn’t seen before til last night when you got into bed after he had fucked you into the mattress, a cute moaning mess beneath him.

“But you’re less lonely with him around right?” He asked, continuing to ogle his darling wife.

“I guess I am…”

“And I’m a little jealous he gets to spend all day with you.” Hongjoong walked over to you, standing behind you as you were slightly bent over readjusting the comforter and pillows. He gripped your hips and pulled your ass against his groin so suddenly. “Maybe he’s so affectionate with you because he likes you?”

“Joong!” You squeaked at the sudden tug at your hips, your body growing warm the moment he pressed you against him. “Y-you’re being silly!”

“Am I?” He smirked, enjoying your fluster and meek movements to stop him from getting handsy. “He’s a male fox hybrid, darling. He doesn’t even have other female hybrid friends and even when he sees one, he’s disinterested. I think…,” he wrapped his arm around your waist pressing your back against his body while his other hand groped the flesh of your ass. “Our Wooyoungie has a crush on mommy.”

Your face flushed at the way his voice dipped when he said that.

“J-joong you need to go to work,” you stifled a moan when he grabbed your breast and gave it a teasing squeeze. “D-don’t want you to be late.”

“Mhm…” he hummed against your ear, unable to keep his hands off of you, a hand snaking its way into your shorts, happy to find that you weren’t wearing any panties. “I think I can make my wife cum once before I leave without getting late.”

Hongjoong’s desire to touch you this early in the morning only grew the moment his fingers dipped between your slit to find that you were already wet and ready for him. Oh, how he loved the way your body reacted to him.

“Plus, the more we do it. The higher the chances of us having a baby, right?” He began to kiss and suck at that sensitive spot on your neck, your hips grinding down into his hand on their own.

Wooyoung had fallen asleep on the couch last night and had woken up wrapped in his favorite blanket that you had gotten him when you and Hongjoong decided to take him into your shared home and lives. He rubbed his eyes as he saw Hongjoong walk out of the hall, slipping on his blazer with his briefcase in one hand.

“Morning, Woo.” Hongjoong smiled at him, the nickname making his fox ears perk up. “Behave while I’m at work, okay?”

Wooyoung with sleep in his eyes, nodded.

“As usual, take care of Y/N too. Don’t give her too much trouble.”

He nodded again, watching the man grab the keys to his car and check himself in the mirror by the apartment door.

Wooyoung’s nose twitched as he came to his senses, noticing that your scent was all over Hongjoong this morning. His ears dropped as he knew what that meant…he wasn’t dumb. Was it silly that he had a crush on you? Did Hongjoong know he did?

Before Hongjoong left, he gave Wooyoung a gentle pat on the head and said, “I’ll be home later.”

Back then he didn’t like it when you and Hongjoong were apart. It had felt like the newfound connection he had with the two of you was incomplete but now he didn’t mind it at all, especially since he spent more time with you and had a preference for you. His hybrid instincts saw Hongjoong as the disciplinary figure and a provider for you and him while you were the figure of nurture and love. You were the one he could cuddle and snuggle to, the one whom he could get physical affection from. He wasn’t sure when his crush on you started but he believed it was when his former owner left him under your and Hongjoong’s care for the first time.

Getting up, he padded his way to the master bedroom, your scent becoming stronger and stronger as he neared.

He peeked his head by the open door, not wanting to disturb you if you were doing anything like your morning skincare routine or getting dressed. His fox ears dropped a little as he saw that the bed was unmade and you were lying down, under the comforter, asleep.

Were you not feeling well?

Wooyoung quietly moved closer and carefully knelt on the bed, his knee dipping into the mattress. He glanced at your peacefully sleeping face, making sure he hadn’t disturbed you before continuing to crawl next to you, wanting to be close.

Gently taking your hand that was on your stomach, he laid his head there and placed it on his head, near his fox ears, letting you know somehow that he was with you.

“Mhm…” the soft hum came from you and Wooyoung's ears twitched excitedly at the sound. When he felt your fingers brush against his ears, a shiver went down his spine and he couldn’t stop the way his head rubbed on your tummy. “Good morning, Woo.” You greeted him sleepily, feeling his soft furry ears and beginning to languidly play with his hair and scratch that spot behind his ear that made his bushy and fluffy red tail wag uncontrollably.

“Morning…” Wooyoung softly smiled to himself, enjoying your touch and your warmth. He could smell Hongjoong’s scent off of you…the mixed scent of you and him that he’d get a whiff of when he woke up in the middle of the night and heard muffled moans and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin.

Wooyoung wanted to scent you too…

“Thank you for the blanket.” Wooyoung purred, enjoying the way you caressed and touched him.

If he asked would you let him?

“Didn’t want to wake you. You were sleeping so peacefully but I didn’t want you to get cold.” You chuckled. “You didn’t feel cold?”

Wooyoung shook his head.

“That’s good.”

A beat of silence passed and Wooyoung couldn’t help but say…

“I can smell Hongjoong all over you…are you still trying for a baby?”

His question made heat bloom in your cheeks and your eyes fluttered open, seeing the top of Wooyoung’s bright red hair and his pretty pointed fox ears.

“Y-yeah…we’re still trying…. it's been three months since…I haven’t taken a pregnancy test yet though.”

Wooyoung could tell you were anxious. “But you’re starting to smell different lately…still you but more sweet. Like candy!” His ears perked up and you couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable the handsome hybrid was. “Maybe there’s a baby already.”

“Well, I’ll just have to muster the courage to take a test soon.”

Wooyoung nodded.

The two of you cuddled and basked in the slow morning of that day. The fox hybrid was burrowing feelings of envy that Hongjoong was going to have a baby with you…his sense of smell doesn’t lie. If a baby came into the picture, what of him then? Usually, most hybrids are given up because a baby has entered their owners' lives…will you give him up too?

Wooyoung tried to ignore those feelings of abandonment, telling himself that you would never let him go, and went about the day as usual. He accompanied you to the grocery store and helped around in the kitchen, you’d lightly smack his hand when he would try to steal the chocolate chips you were putting in the cookie batter.

A week passed and the particular day where you and Hongjoong were both out and he was left alone in the apartment, was the day that you had found out that you were pregnant. The two of you returned and happily shared the news with him, and Wooyoung was genuinely happy for both of you as well as a little scared for what the future holds.

One sunset evening, you were snuggled into Hongjoong’s side watching a movie while Wooyoung had his head on your lap. The movie wasn’t anything serious, it was light-hearted and romantic. Wooyoung didn’t really pay attention because he was enjoying the way you were playing with his hair and caressing his fox ears.

“Oh, Woo, I forgot to ask…Seonghwa reminded me to ask you if you have a mate? Apparently, you’ll be going into a rut soon.” Hongjoong spoke nonchalantly.

Wooyoung’s cheeks grew hot at the question. “N-no I don’t have a mate…”

“And your rut?”

He snuggled closer to you. “…it’s soon.”

“We never got to take care of him when he goes through that…” you had softly said to Hongjoong, not having had the experience of dealing with Wooyoung’s rut ever because he was with his former owner then. “He has socialized with other hybrids though…all his friends are male hybrids…Wooyoung was there a hybrid you fancy?”

Wooyoung didn’t know where his bratty attitude arose from but it showed.

“Don’t want a mate.” He huffed, pouting and throwing a little fit.

“But what then when you go into a rut?” Hongjoong made his voice a little firmer, not liking the hybrid’s reaction when he was speaking of something serious.

“I’ll handle it on my own,” he huffed, brows knitted and glaring at Hongjoong through his lashes. “I. Don’t. Want. A. Mate.”

“J-joong,” your voice came like a saving grace. “Let’s not force, Woo, if he’s not okay with it.” You said, soothing Wooyoung with scratches behind his ears making his frustration simmer down immediately. “If he says he can handle it let’s trust him, okay?”

Hongjoong looked at you, unsure and hesitant. As much as he would like this recurring period for Wooyoung to be handled in the best possible way and less of a hassle for you and him, he was weak to your words.

Wooyoung waited with bated breath for Hongjoong’s response, his fear and anxiety slowly bubbling in his chest as the next solution to a hybrid without a mate, was a hotel-like establishment purely for hybrids in heat or a rut. He didn’t want to go there, he didn’t want to be away from home, from you.

“I guess we can observe him when he does go into a rut and make sure he goes through it safely.”

Wooyoung broke into a grin and nuzzled in his cheek on your tummy, the warmth of your body and sweet scent making him feel warm. He didn’t want a mate…he’d rather be close to you.

“How did you handle it before Woo?” You asked the handsome hybrid that was so clingy and affectionate today.

“Hmmm…I just let it pass. Lock myself in a room for two days or three.”

Wooyoung watched your eyes soften at his response, your gaze and pity making his tail wag a little.

“And it works?” Your lips were pouting as you continued to pet him.

Wooyoung nodded, eyes closing in bliss at your touch, his tail making a big swoop.

“Hey!” Hongjoong blurted out as the bushy red tail whacked him in the face.

Wooyoung’s ears flattened at Hongjoong’s tone but it lifted at the soothing sound of your careless and mirthful laughter.

“Awe, Joongie.” You cooed at your husband, reaching out to caress his cheek.

“My bad.” Wooyoung shrugged with a smile, looking at the two treasured people in his life, Hongjoong unable to break into a smile at the moment between the three of you.

“You two enjoy teasing me,” Hongjoong kissed your cheek and patted Wooyoung’s head.

“Oh, you love us.” You giggled, giving Wooyoung a kiss on the forehead after Hongjoong’s kiss.

As weeks passed since the confirmation and announcement of your pregnancy, you entered your second trimester, Wooyoung couldn’t help but notice how much sweeter your scent had become and when he watched you move around the house, his eyes would stare at the hint of a bump at your tummy.

Hongjoong on the other hand, had become more busy at work and being editor in chief for one of the top fashion magazines in the country, it ate up his time. The new summer line of many brands was to be released soon and while those brands begged for a feature on the magazine, Hongjoong would sigh in his office wishing he was with you instead. So, Wooyoung had to get used to the new system here in the household for when Hongjoong was away, it was his job to protect you and watch over you.

The summer heat had already begun to warm the atmosphere even more and Wooyoung could feel his senses sharpen. His watchful eyes grew even more alert as he looked after you while Hongjoong was away.

Every chore, movement, or even when you were just napping, he was there.

Today though, when you moved around in the kitchen with the tempting decadent smell of cookies baking in the oven wafting throughout the whole apartment, he noticed you wince a little bit as you just put the second batch of cookies in the oven.

Wooyoung’s ears perked up at the sight of you in mild discomfort and he leaned forward a bit in his seat on one of the stools by the kitchen island. He didn’t move yet not until he was sure you needed him.

“A-are you okay?” He asked.

You looked at him and smiled through your discomfort. “Just a little achy.”

“That’s not good right?” His brows furrowed.

“N-no, it’s expected. I’m in my second trimester, and my breasts are sore…my doctor said it’s because I’m going to start producing milk.”

Wooyoung blushed as his eyes fell upon your breasts hugged by the cute white summer dress you decided to wear today. Milk? From your...

“O-oh,” he looked away, feeling heat pool at his belly at the curve and plumpness of your chest that had actually gotten a bit fuller in size. “It hurts?”

“Just a little, but it’s nothing to worry about, Woo.”

The fox hybrid let it slide but still kept an eye on you.

As the day progressed, he felt clingier and more protective. The need to be with you was stronger than ever and the other feeling…the other feeling that was telling him to lock himself in his room was creeping up on him too.

It was only Monday…he had hoped that when he had to isolate it’d be during the weekend when Hongjoong was around. He needed to be around you even more so since you were carrying a baby…he needed to be around you because you’re smelling sweeter and sweeter each day since the start of your pregnancy. Sweeter than all the treats you baked out of the blue.

That evening, as you got ready for bed after Hongjoong had called and said that he’d be home really late so he didn’t want you to stay up and wait for him, Wooyoung was debating if it was safe for him to be around you.

You offered that he’d sleep with you on the bed but he said he wanted to watch something on the TV so he’d fall asleep on the sofa tonight. You only gave him a smile and a quick kiss goodnight on the forehead before heading to the master bedroom.

Wooyoung didn’t wrap himself in his favorite blanket. His skin was warmer than usual as his eyes were staring at the little light that leaked from the bottom of the master bedroom door. The sounds from the TV were background noise as he focused on hearing above it, just in case you needed him.

A little wince from you had him on his feet. Then a soft whimper had him quietly stepping towards the room. Were you in pain? The door was left slightly ajar. You always kept it this way when it was just you and him so that he wouldn’t feel like he was intruding if he wanted to be near you.

He peered through the little gap in the door with one eye, blinking and trying to find your presence in the room curiously.

You softly cursed to yourself, and sat up on the bed, the wet patches on your pajama camisole sticking uncomfortably to your skin. “W-what do I do…” you had murmured to yourself as you stared down at your breasts that had been aching and swollen lately.

Wooyoung’s eyes closed as a new scent reached his nose. It was like milk…but sweeter. He felt his mouth salivate at the smell before his eyes opened to look for the source, gulping when he found it.

With the duvet up to your lap, you were sat on the bed with a towel dabbing at the silk camisole that had dampened patches…the fabric sticking to the swell and curves of your breasts, and your nipples poking through.

“This…it’s too early…,” you mumbled as you wondered if massaging your breasts would help with the ache. Your doctor mentioned that breast milk leaking was normal and that as long as there was no blood, it was all good but…the wet sticky mess it left was a handful.

You cupped your right breast and gently massaged it, sighing as it relieved some of the pain. Wooyoung gulped when he saw this, heat going straight down to his cock that slowly stiffened the more he smelled that rich sweet scent and watched you massage your breasts.

He kept his silence, his tail swaying side to side slowly as he watched you change into a new set of pajamas then laid down in bed again to try to sleep. You switched off the lamp on your nightstand and Wooyoung couldn’t help but slip inside the room.

He just wanted to get closer to your sweet scent and cuddle. Cuddle and snuggle like he does when Hongjoong comes home late or when he’s away on a business trip.

Wooyoung took Hongjoong’s empty spot on the bed, gazing at you as you slept. Your new pink camisole hugged your breasts and tummy, showing off that little baby bump that was growing slowly with each month that passed. As he lay on his side, his eyes took in your peacefully sleeping expression before they were drawn to your breasts.

He began to salivate again and his cock which had been hard since he was peeking through the door, ached even more. He could feel his rut looming over him like a dark cloud…and even though he was lying still, his tail restlessly snapped up and down.

But he didn’t want to disrespect you. He loved you too much to act on any of the dirty thoughts in his head…to act on his crush on you that didn’t want him to have or find a mate.

So he forced his eyes closed and tried to focus on the sound of your even breathing, trying to imitate it so that he too could calm down and avoid the itch to touch you and be closer to you. He didn’t want to slip up when his rut came then make Hongjoong decide that he’ll be sent to one of those hotels.

Wooyoung thought he could manage. He really did. He had gone through his ruts before all alone…but this time it was difficult.

Something was different. He didn’t even think it’d be a big factor that would affect his rut. What made a difference was that you were a constant presence in his life now and in the long run too. He’s never had a rut around the opposite sex…even if you weren’t a hybrid, you had this sweet, comforting smell and since your pregnancy, it’s gotten more intense.

“Woo? You okay?” You pressed your palm against his forehead. “You’re really warm.”

He had blanked out on the couch this hot summer afternoon with all his thoughts that your sudden closeness took him by surprise and the strong whiff of your scent made his head spin.

His skin was hot to the touch and he was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. You bent over and kissed his forehead to feel for a fever.

His breath hitched as your breasts were at his eye level. They were hugged by your cotton tank top and that note of sweet milk overwhelmed his senses again, his hands scrambled to grab one of the pillows on the couch, placing it over his lap.

“Do you feel feverish, Woo?” You asked, standing up to full height, your hands soothingly caressing his ears and your fingers running through his bright red hair.

“N-not really,” he murmured, forcing his gaze away from your boobs. What would they feel like if he touched them? Were they sensitive? Did your milk taste sweet?

You pouted not sure what to do and also very worried about him. You took the seat on the couch beside him and turned the AC up, wondering if he might be coming down with something.

“I-I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he managed to smile but it looked like a grimace which made you coo and pull him to lie down on your lap, so you could comfort him.

His ears twitched the more you caressed and petted him, scratching behind his ears now making that shivering sensation go straight to his cock.

This was bad.

He wanted to be near you…but he was scared he would lose control and get into trouble with Hongjoong.

“Y/N….”

“Yes, Youngie?” You hummed, comfortable on the couch as you put a movie on the TV.

“N-nothing…” he looked away, turning on his side so that he wasn’t looking at your pretty face and tempted to stare and continue to salivate at your full breasts.

After thirty minutes of focusing his eyes on the TV, he heard you whimper which instantly made him turn to you.

You had fallen asleep and your brows were knitted while your nose scrunched at something you felt.

He sat up slowly to not wake you and he worriedly looked at you.

Then the smell hit him.

He gulped and his eyes wearily traveled down from your face to your chest…the navy blue fabric began to stain at two spots…and they continued to dampen as you winced once more.

You were in discomfort again.

Wooyoung didn’t want to wake you up. You hadn’t slept properly the previous night because you had felt nauseous and Hongjoong was there to help you through it.

Maybe he could get a towel?

You whimpered in your sleep and he remembered how you soothed your pain a couple nights ago.

Before he could stop himself, his one hand cupped one of your breasts, his eyes shifting from your face and your pillowy, soft, tits. Your expression relaxed a little and his ears stood.

He was helping!

Wooyoung scooted closer, his other hand beginning to give the same attention to your neglected breast. He gently massaged and squeezed them…they were so soft and nice to touch. They were weighty beneath his palm and he noticed the damp patches beginning to grow... the thick sweet milky scent becoming stronger.

His mouth was salivating so much he had to swallow down thickly.

He can make you feel better. He knows he can!

He leaned closer to your breast his other hand not stopping its movements, and took a deep breath, his eyes closing at the decadent alluring scent. His tongue poked out and through the damp thin fabric of your top, he gently dragged his tongue along your stiffening peaks.

The taste of cotton wasn’t enough to mellow the sweetness of the milk that leaked from your breasts. He looked up at you as he continued to kitten lick and swirl his tongue around. You looked as peaceful as you did when he slept next to you a couple nights ago.

Wooyoung kept telling himself that he was helping you that he was doing good by soothing your pain but his increasingly rut-muddled mind was getting the best of him too.

Slowly, he pulled down the hem of your top until your breast popped out. He stared at the milky white that leaked out your nipple. He squeezed the pillowy flesh a bit and massaged it around a little only to find more milk spilled as he did that.

Without a single thought or even a hint of hesitation, he licked your nipple without the barrier of your top and the moment he tasted the fresh spilled milk on his tongue, his cock throbbed. You tasted so sweet. He circled his tongue and flicked it around again. His eyes closed as he began to gently suck, the action making more of your milk spill unto his tongue.

His tail wagged happily as he suckled at your breast, drinking your milk. You tasted so good, he didn’t think he could stop. He moaned, mouth stuffed with your tit. He could feel his right hand getting wet and he opened his eyes just a little only to see your right breast leaking more.

What a waste, he thought to himself before latching off your left breast to give the same treatment to the other.

“A-ah…” you mumbled softly in your sleep.

Wooyoung’s eyes snapped to your face as your brows were slightly knitted and your plump pretty lips were parted.

His hand on your breast gently rolled your stiff nipple between his fingers while he continued to suck at the other. Did you need more to relax?

His ears twitched when he heard that beautiful delicate sound that he would hear sometimes late in the night when he couldn’t sleep and he wasn’t allowed in the bedroom. Your soft moan made him short-circuit. He was the cause of that sound. Him.

Wooyoung knew he should stop. You weren’t his…you were Hongjoong’s. You weren’t his mate, you can’t ever be cause you were not a hybrid.

But like Hongjoong, he loved you too.

He loved you. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to touch you the way Hongjoong touched you.

So he couldn’t stop.

With each drop of sweet milk that ran down his throat, he was growing dizzy with desire and his rut was swallowing him whole. He swirled his tongue and continued to suck, not meaning to have done it as hard as he did that it stirred you awake from your nap.

“J-joongie?” Your eyes fluttered open, sleep making them feel heavy.

Your body was warm and tingling with pleasure that pooled directly to your lower belly. Your clit throbbed as your breasts were being fondled and…sucked?

Eyes slowly adjusting to your surroundings, you focused your gaze down, seeing a blur of red hair. Your breasts no longer ached instead they were being stimulated and played with. The wet hot tongue flicking and lapping at the peak of your breast made you moan as your body was being awoken with these sensations.

You blinked a couple of times, your breath getting quicker, and noticing the fluffy pointed red ears.

“Y-Youngie? Ah—,” you cut yourself off when he continued to suckle and fondle your other breast. “What are you doing?”

The fox hybrid stopped at the sound of his name.

Were you going to get mad?

His eyes snapped open and you were met with his wide and round puppy gaze. His pointy ears fell flat on his head and though his mouth was still full of your tit, he had stopped having his fill of your milk.

It was that look on his face when he was sorry for getting into trouble. The one that made your heart ache…how could you possibly get mad at him?

He latched off your tit unwillingly and looked down, avoiding your gaze. There was a sheen of your milk over his pink lips and you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm as what was happening processed in your head.

“Youngie…” your voice was soft and not scolding.

You cupped his cheek to make him look at you, his cheeks a dark shade of red as you waited for him to explain himself.

“I-I’m sorry…” he murmured, keeping his hands in fists on his lap. “Y-you were hurting…I just wanted to help. Y-you smelled so good. Your milk was leaking too…didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“Youngie…”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned his head away to look down, the carpet suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. While he avoided your gaze, you observed yours and Hongjoong’s hybrid. You placed your palm on his forehead again, he was warmer than when you had checked and your eyes observed his body, blushing when you noticed the very prominent tent in his black sweatpants.

“Woo, are you having your rut?”

He still didn’t look at you and like a sad puppy, he nodded ashamedly, his fingernails digging into his palms as he did his best to not pounce on you then there. You had an arm over your breasts covering them…why were you hiding from him?

His heart sank.

“But I made you feel better right?” He asked, his voice strained as he looked up at you.

He did but—

“I did good, right?” He leaned closer and you tried to move away but he only pressed forward til your back was against the cushions of the couch, his arms on either side of your body.

“You did but Woo—,”

“Then shouldn’t I get a treat?”

The look in his eyes has shifted. Gone was the sweet and playful Wooyoung you knew. His pupils were blown and predatory…and when his gaze flickered from your face to your chest, you felt like hiding.

“Youngie…” you were at a lost for words.

“P-please, let me have a treat. Let me make you feel good,” he pressed his nose onto your neck, taking a deep breath and whiff of your scent. “You smell so good. So, so, good.”

Your hands go to his shoulders as your heart raced in your chest. You could feel just how tense he was and how his muscles flexed beneath his thin black sweater. What were you to do?

“You taste so sweet too…,” he whined into your neck, a hand gently cupping your right breast and giving a squeeze, unable to fight back the moan that escaped your lips. “That feels good, doesn’t it?” He purred against your ear, licking a stripe along your neck. “You were making pretty noises when I was touching you.”

You gasped when you felt his pelvis press against your clothed cunt. He was hard and throbbing against his sweats, and when he slowly pressed his erection even more against you, you felt your walls clench around nothing.

It was hard to resist his touches, especially with how your hormones made you so sensitive and more…needy. You felt slightly embarrassed to feel yourself growing wet and aroused by him.

Wooyoung whimpered softly when his length rubbed against your covered heat, he could feel just how warm it was. He wondered how pretty your pussy would be taking his cock…or his knot…or his cu—

“Youngie,” his name came out in a breathy moan, a sound that he only dreamed of…a sound that he wanted to hear over and over. A sweet seductive rendition of his name that made all his self-control evaporate.

“I need you so bad,” he groaned, grinding his erection against your core, the friction sending sparks of pleasure throughout his body while your own reacted strongly to him too.

This was dirty. The whole act of it. Your husband wasn’t home and your weak attempts to fend off the hybrid were pitiful because, in the end, your body enjoyed it all. You enjoyed the way his hips were humping you, how his cock was rock hard against the gusset of your cotton shorts and rubbed your throbbing clit.

“W-Wooyoung!” You gasped when he latched his mouth on your left breast, nipping at your sensitive nipple before soothing them with flicks and swirls of his tongue. The warm tingly feeling in your boob made your pussy clench and you couldn’t stop the soft whimpers that came from you.

Wooyoung continued to grind against you, moaning with his mouth full of your tit and sweet milk on his greedy tongue. You tasted so good. How was we ever going to stop? Your moans and the scent of your arousal told him how much your body was enjoying this.

Your cheeks were hot as you realized he was drinking your milk. Your mind was hazy as your core ached for more, for something to be inside you. God, your hormones were through the roof and your gentle heart only felt sympathy for yours and Hongjoong’s hybrid.

“Y-Youngie w-wait,” you stuttered out softly, body burning hot from how he had been humping you and suckling at your sensitive chest.

Despite his rut-muddled brain, he had listened. If it had been any other hybrid with no self-control at all, they wouldn’t have stopped. Wooyoung stopped because…well…he loved you. Every word you said, everything you did, your comfort, and your happiness were things he valued so much.

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, releasing your nipple from his greedy mouth. Your face was flushed and there was a shy glint in your eye as you bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about something. Did he go too far?

“You’re going through your rut right?” You caressed his cheek as he rested his head on your chest.

He nodded.

“Which explains why your body is warmer than usual.”

The hybrid nodded again.

“D-does it hurt?” Your thumb softly glided over his cheekbone.

Wooyoung wanted to nod. His cock was so hard it hurts. He needed to do something about it…he needed release.

“Can I try to make you feel better?” You asked, unsure if what you thought of would actually help. Since he had been such a sweet boy for caring so much about your discomfort that he did actually help with the ache and pain in your breasts, you wanted to help him too.

His fluffy red ears pointed up high as his eyes widened and he sat up, wondering what you meant.

“W-what do you mean?” He stuttered, a dust of red blooming across his face.

Trying to ignore the rapid thumping of your heart, you gently guided him to sit closer to you and you looked at his crotch area, the top of the tent of his sweats a darker shade of gray as he had been leaking precum with how aroused he was.

“I’ll help you feel better too. You did the same for me, I want to help you. You said it hurts right?” You spoke softly as if someone could be eavesdropping.

Wooyoung gulped when your hand slowly ran up his thigh, getting closer and closer to his rock-hard cock.

“I-it does b-but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.” His eyes were shifting from your flustered face and your hand. You were touching him.

“You’re so sweet, Youngie,” you smiled, pressing your lips on his forehead. “Don’t worry, okay? I want to.”

You just wanted to give Wooyoung a helping hand, nothing more.

The sweet fox hybrid was someone you had grown to treasure in your life and that you loved, and wasn’t it your responsibility to make sure he went through his rut safely. You didn’t know how to handle it, Hongjoong did but he wasn’t here and Wooyoung didn’t like the idea of going to those hotels. This was the least you could do to help him.

You untied the string of his sweatpants and tugged it down along with his boxers, and the moment they slipped down enough to let his cock free, it sprung up and slapped against his abdomen. Your eyes widened a bit as you took in the shape of his length and how the dark pink tip was glistening and leaking with precum. He really looked so painfully hard…

Wooyoung shamelessly moaned with just the mere touch of your fingertip on his tip as you smeared his precum all over the head before skimming your touch along his length. Your palm was soft and warm, you were so focused on helping Wooyoung out whose head was leaning on your shoulder as he tried to keep his eyes open to watch your pretty hand wrap around his cock.

He was hot against your palm and the more you stared at it, the more you felt your core clench for something more too but you couldn’t do anything about it. You’re not sure if that was a line you could cross especially since you had Hongjoong.

“Y-you’re so hard, Woo.” You breathed out, your mouth feeling dry as you slowly moved your hand up and down along his length, the way Hongjoong had taught you to touch him when you two had gotten intimate in the early stages of your relationship.

“A-ah,” his hot breath fanned at your collarbones. Your silky palm around his length felt better than his own hand and the grip you had as you pumped his cock made his head spin with pleasure, and his tail wagged excitedly. “That feels good.”

You softly smiled to yourself, happy that he was finding relief.

You kissed the top of his head and moved your hand just a little bit faster, setting a pace that had the fox hybrid panting and whining at the pleasure. He sounded…so cute. You wondered why he didn’t want to date. He was incredibly handsome and playful as well as sweet. He would’ve gotten a partner easily if he wanted to.

Wooyoung felt like he was in one of his dreams except this time it wasn’t and it was better than his dreams.

He glanced at your hand wrapped around his cock, not believing his eyes that you were jerking him off. It was so mind-numbingly good. Then with your scent too? It was driving him crazy.

Tugging down at your tank top once more to free one of your breasts, he latched his mouth on your tit again making you gasp in surprise. His tongue circled and flicked against your nipple then he began to suck, his ears standing up high as the flavor of sweet milk graced his tongue.

“W-Woo,” you breathed out shakily, not stopping the way your hand twisted up and down his throbbing hot length.

Wooyoung moaned, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the pleasure he was feeling and the taste of your milk.

Without a warning, his cock twitched, and hot spurts of white shot from his tip coating your hand and making a mess on his lap. His body twitched as he sucked hard at your breast, coming while your core dripped more slick, aroused.

He released your breast as he panted, whining as his cock remained hard even after coming.

Your brows furrowed wondering why he was still…rock hard. You brought your hand a bit closer to you as he savored his high, his cum was sticky and thick, you were curious to have a taste but fought the urge to do so…you only do that with Hongjoong.

You grabbed a couple of tissue papers on the coffee table to clean your hand, letting Wooyoung rest a bit, unaware how the hybrid’s need only increased a thousandfold after your hand job.

Wooyoung’s mind was filled with nothing but filth and the need to feel you, touch you, and fuck you. You were so sweet to have helped him…but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. You’ll be nice, right? You said you wanted to help.

Before you could process what was happening, Wooyoung had you lying on the couch as he buried his face into your crotch. He pushed away the gusset of your shorts so he could lick and lap at your pussy through the fabric of your panties.

“M-mommy tastes so good,” he moaned into your pussy as you gasped at the sensation of his wet tongue messily over your clit and your entrance.

“Y-Youngie!” You tried to stop him but he had his arms wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzled his nose into your soaked panties.

“You’re wet,” he licked his lips. “Are you enjoying this, mommy? I can help make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.” He groaned flattening his tongue over where your clit was, your back arching.

Your soft whines and moans only egged him on and his hands couldn’t stop themselves from tearing your panties apart to reveal the pink pulsing and slick pussy he’s dreamed of. His mouth watered at the sight. Your folds glistened with your arousal and he could see your little hole squeezing around nothing.

He could fix that.

“M-mommy your pussy is so pretty.” His eyes were wide as he stared, letting go of one thigh so that he could touch your pink cunt. He gently used his middle finger to glide through your slit, collecting your slick and in awe at how much more leaked from your cunt. You smelled of pure sex and it was driving his rut-infested brain crazy.

“Y-youngie, we can’t— ah!”

He licked a long stripe up your cunt, humming as he tasted the salty yet sweet nectar. Your walls clenched once more, pushing out more of your arousal which Wooyoung happily lapped up. He encircled your clit with his tongue, flicking against the sensitive bud and enjoying the whimpers and moans that were leaving you.

He felt happy. He was the cause of your pleasure this very moment.

Then he got greedier, his lazy kitten licks grew messier as he began to make out with your lower lips, his tongue dipping into your needy hole then his mouth suckling at your pussy like he did with your breasts.

Your hands found their way to his bright red hair as you moaned, your body caving into the pleasure.

It was sinful.

The slurping wet sounds filled the living room and your pants and his needy whines and groans were a symphony of obscene desire that bounced off the walls of your home.

Wooyoung moaned against your cunt as you tugged at his hair. Were you going to cum? He wondered. Your moans got pitchier and your breath quickened. He could feel your thighs tensing in his hold and that only urged him on, eating you out like you were his last meal on earth. Your pussy’s nectar was second to the sweet milk he drank from your tits but both made him harder and want you even more.

“Youngie! I’m gonna c-cum!” You squeaked out so cutely that he only continued to ravage your pussy, sucking and licking greedily.

This was wrong, you thought to yourself. Hongjoong would disapprove of Wooyoung’s behavior but your body loved the attention the hybrid was giving you.

One harsh suck and you fell apart, coming all over his tongue and he happily lapped up your release, prolonging your orgasm.

Your legs fell limp as you lost yourself in your high, mind empty and not noticing your phone buzzing on the coffee table.

Wooyoung spread your pussy lips apart, eying it in wonder as he positioned himself on the couch, pushing your thighs to your chest as you looked up at him confused.

“Y-Youngie?”

“You’ll let me right?” He asked, taking his cock and rubbing the bulbous head all over your pussy, coating the tip with your arousal. “I’m still hard. N-need mommy.” He whined, slotting his length between your lips and gently rocking against you. He needed your permission.

“Woo…” you tried to gather your thoughts but your pussy was still throbbing from your orgasm, your whole body tingling with sensitivity as your hormones were in overdrive, needing and craving for more.

“Your pussy is empty,” he murmured, his body got to touch as he perspired, his rut unraveled at this point. “You need cock, don’t you? Need my cock?”

His words made you blush and you couldn’t help but moan when his tip rubbed against your clit. You couldn’t think straight anymore as all you could think of was his thick cock splitting you open.

“I’ll fill you up real good, mommy.” He whined, pushing the fat head into your pulsing hole. He moaned at the hot sensation of your walls around him, it excited him so much he pushed his cock all the way in, watching it disappear into you inch by inch.

Your back arched as he bottomed out inside you, your tits leaking out milk as his tip nudged delightfully at your g-spot.

“Y-youngie!” You cried out gripping the cushion beneath you as he pressed forward into you, pushing you deeper into the mating press.

“M-mommy you’re so tight and warm. Fuck. My cock is inside you—ah—,” he whimpered, slowly pulling out til only his tip was inside you before plunging back in, your eyes seeing white momentarily at how good his cock felt rubbing your walls.

His hands rested on either side of your head as he hurriedly increased his pace. His fox instincts took over him as his head was filled with nothing but the thought of fucking you and breeding you.

“Y-youngie!”

His eyes were dark, and his canines were bared as he grunted above you, rutting into you, drilling his cock into your sopping cunt. The snap of his hips was deep and impatient, he was rocking into you like his life depended on it.

“M-mommy,” he moaned over and over, whimpering when he felt your velvety warm walls hugged his cock so good. He was so envious of Hongjoong. He gets to have you all the time. He wanted your pussy too and you wanted him too right? That explained how your walls squeezed around him, almost sucking him into your heat like you wanted to milk his cock dry. He wanted that. He’d let you do that to him.

He drove his hips deeper and faster, earning a loud moan from you as more of your sweet sticky slick leaked out your cock stuffed cunt, his length gliding in and out so easily. “Mommy’s pussy feels so good. Want to give mommy my pups too.”

“Y-Youngie,” you slurred out, tits bouncing with each deep thrust as he kept you in the mating press, your nipples leaking out milk as he fucked you. It was hard to not get lost in the pleasure, not when his fat cock slammed over and over against your g-spot making your head mush. His words weren’t even processed properly in your head.

Wooyoung leaned over as he pounded into you, taking one of your tits into his mouth, sucking your sweet milk as he felt his balls and the base of his spine grow tighter and tighter.

“L-love…mommy’s…tits,” he mumbled against your breast, flicking his tongue over your sensitive nipple and licking every drop of milk. “Love mommy’s pussy.”

“Youngie, I’m going to c-cum, a-ah!” His thrusts got faster, each slam of the fat head into your cunt numbing all your logical thoughts.

“M-me too,” he groaned, feeling his knot grow tight. His hips chased his release. The build-up to finally reaching his peak clouded his brain as he pistons into your heat, the continuous pounding on your g-spot sending you over the edge as you creamed around his cock.

Your head fell back as your body was wracked by a powerful orgasm that made your walls spasm and suck his cock in deeper into you, and in less than a minute, the whiny pants and moans of your hybrid were cut off by a broken whimper. With one last deep thrust, he pushed his knot into your quivering pussy making you cry out as it doubled the effect of your orgasm. Wooyoung saw white as his seed poured into your sopping hole, his cock twitching uncontrollably as he spilled his hot seed into you.

Wooyoung’s head was buried into your pillowy chest as his knot was engulfed by your hot walls. He was panting, his breath hot against your skin as you lay beneath him limp and unmoving, your body tingling with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

In a hazy state, he licked along your breasts which were sticky and glistening with your milk. He growled possessively when he felt your pussy gently squeezing his knot, his arousal stirring again as it sunk into his head that he had filled your pussy with his cum. Wooyoung straightened up and glanced down at you.

Your hair was a pretty mess on your head, your eyelids were blinking heavily as you stared out into nothing and your lips were parted slightly as you slowly caught your breath. His beautiful Y/N. Gently, he cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb, admiring how fucked out you looked beneath him. He glanced down to where you two were connected, his knot slowly disappearing and he felt his cock twitch to life at the sight of your pretty petal-like folds covered in a mess of your cream and his cum.

The hybrid was bewildered at the sight and all he knew was he wanted to do it over and over again.

Slowly, he pulled out of you, watching in awe as his seed leaked from your little hole. Not liking the idea of it going to waste, he gently hoisted you in his arms and carried you to yours and Hongjoong’s bed then gently laid you on it with your legs almost dangling off the edge. He folded your pliable legs and spread them apart for him before he plugged your leaking hole with his cock, pushing back his cum inside you. You whimpered as his fat length filled your sensitive cunt again.

“Y-Youngie, e-enough. T-that’s enough,” you slurred out, belly hot with his release.

“B-but mommy…,” he pouted, burying himself to the hilt and sighing once he was snug against your cervix. He grabbed your tit and squeezed it. “You said you wanted to help me…I still need your help.” His eyes were dark as his hand left your breast to glide down your very small bump before stopping when his thumb found your clit.

“I'm still so hard,” he whined, pressing his hips snugly against you while rolling your clit beneath his thumb, his cum and your slick making it easy for him to slide his digit around. “Only mommy cares for me.” He slowly began to shallowly thrust, his cock head nudging at your g-spot gently, your mind boggled at how the hybrid was still rock hard inside you. “You don’t want me to handle my rut all alone right? It’s more painful than before because you’re around. My beautiful m-mommy—ah!” He gasped when he felt your walls involuntarily clench around him. “It’s hard to be in control when you’re here…it’s all your fault.”

He was breathing heavily as he began to move against you once more, your body welcoming the sweet delicious scrape of his cock against your pulsing walls. You could deny it all you want but he felt so good. The way he fucked you, the way he suckled at your breasts…all of it was so good.

“M-my fault…” you repeated without a thought, not really understanding, too enraptured by the way he was rutting into you. “I-I’m sorry.”

Wooyoung whimpered at the soft apology, gripping your hips as strands of his bright red hair fell over his eyes, his ears twitching up as his pupils became blown and his mind became controlled by nothing else by his rut and his love for you.

“S’okay, mommy,” He hummed, leaning over to nuzzle his nose into your neck lovingly…possessively. “You’ll make it up to me now, right? Til I have my fill?” He licked along where your scent glands would be if you were a hybrid then gently nipped at the delicate skin, a soft gasp leaving you as he did. He moaned shakily when he felt your walls squeeze him when he grazed his teeth along your neck. “Mommy makes it so hard for me to control my rut…”

“My poor Youngie,” you cooed weakly, hugging him as he slowly slid his cock in and out of you. Your fingers combed through his hair and gently scratched behind his ears causing a deep resounding growl to purr from his chest. “I’m sorry…I-I’ll help.” At this point, boundaries between you and your handsome, playful, and loving fox hybrid no longer existed.

Those boundaries remained blurry and foggy when he began to fuck you like there was no tomorrow, letting him fulfill his needs with your own pleasure-greedy body. You lost count of how many times he came inside you and stretched you with his knot, all you knew was it warmed your heart that he was getting his fill and being relieved of his rut, while you were drunk on a cock that wasn’t even your husband's. Your breasts don’t even ache anymore, not when the hybrid pounding into you happily lapped up and suckled your milk.

Body burning too hot and mind sent into a state of unending pleasure, you don’t even hear the front door opening and closing, nor the soft chinking of the keys being dropped into the key dish by the entryway, nor the gentle loving voice of your husband announcing he was home.

Not even the hybrid stopped when he felt the presence of his other owner by the master bedroom’s doorway, in fact, he grew more possessive and territorial.

Hongjoong sighed and shook his head when he walked into his wife being fucked dumb on their bed by their supposedly sweet, unproblematic, and now very naked hybrid.

He had a feeling this would happen.

His expression was unreadable as he watched, unable to deny the twitch of his cock in his tailored pants when his eyes settled on the way your body took each thrust and how Wooyoung’s cock and your swollen pussy were covered in a sticky mess of cum.

He went over to the dresser and pulled at the bottom drawer.

Your head fell to the side as your body continued to rock with each thrust, heavy-lidded eyes making out the silhouette of your husband.

“J-joongie…”

The fox hybrid growled as you softly muttered out another man’s name, driving his cock faster into your pussy making you cry out as your head spun by the unending abuse of your g-spot.

As much as your husband enjoyed the pornographic sight of his beautiful wife getting fucked as he could only find beauty in the thought of how this was how you would look from a different perspective when he fucked you dumb like the good girl you were for him, he wasn’t happy with his naughty misbehaving hybrid.

Wooyoung didn’t stop, he couldn’t. It didn’t matter that Hongjoong’s dominant aura overpowered his own. Not when he was so close to cumming again and how your walls were pulsing around him.

The man of the house’s eyes darkened when he saw the very slight bruising on your soft delicate hips from the grip of Wooyoung’s hands as he pistons his hips into you mindlessly. How long has he been fucking you? Hongjoong knew this cock drunk state of yours all too well…he was rather impressed Wooyoung was able to bring you to this state.

Before Wooyoung could reach his nth orgasm, it was forcefully taken from him with one harsh tug. His eyes widened when he felt himself yanked back by the neck away from you, his cum that he had been fucking into you leaking out. He growled and fought against the leather around his neck.

He bared his teeth as he tried to pounce back onto you but then he felt the familiar disciplinary hand on the back of his neck squeezing him in warning. His body froze like it always had when he was being trained by Hongjoong.

“Bad puppy,” Hongjoong said dangerously low, forcing him down onto his knees.

“J-joongie…he needed…help,” you murmured out, unable to move, body too heavy from hours of fucking.

“Did he now?” He looked down at the fox hybrid, whose eyes were glued onto your pussy and whose cock was standing erect and glistening with your slick.

“Mommy didn’t cum yet, need to make mommy cum.” He was still in his rut frenzy, trying to crawl closer to you but Hongjoong yanked him back to his place.

“Stay here or else,” Hongjoong commanded in a voice that would make Wooyoung want to run and hide. His ears dropped as he pressed his hands on his thighs, nails digging into his skin as he trembled to control himself.

Hongjoong walked over to you, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed, your pussy covered with the hybrid's cum and the sheets below you drenched. Did Wooyoung manage to make you squirt like he does?

“My poor baby,” Hongjoong cooed, brushing hair away from your face as his eyes drank in your current state. He frowned when he saw how puffy your nipples were and before he could even ask if you were okay, your dainty fingers clutched at his shirt.

“Need to cum…Joongie. Please…” you whined causing Wooyoung’s ears to perk up, his head only hearing the first three words.

“Oh, darling.” He gently cupped your heavy breast feeling their weight beneath his palm and you whimpered at the feeling.

“Joong, please.”

Hongjoong only hummed at your plea, letting his hand roam your pliant body to continue observing you. His hand gently caressed the small bump of your tummy before he reached your inner thigh, trailing higher and clicking his tongue when he saw how his wife’s pink pussy was smeared with and leaked of cum.

“Wooyoung has been a bad fox, hasn’t he?” His voice was laced with tease and disapproval.

“H-he was good,” you defended the sweet hybrid, mind too fuzzy from the hours of sex. “He took care of me and I took care of him…he just got carried away a little.”

“Oh, sweetheart, this isn’t a little.” Hongjoong’s tone was stern and it made Wooyoung glare at his master rather than his usual cower. He was annoyed that Hongjoong was getting in between you and him, he was not done with wanting to fill you up with his cum. “You’re all sore aren’t you, baby?”

You nodded slowly, admitting that you were tired even though your body ached for more since Wooyoung was in the process of making you come for the nth time.

“Look, Woo bruised your pretty skin,” he sighed, running his fingers along the bruises on your hips. “He got too carried away.”

Hongjoong gently put you over his lap, hooking your legs over his thighs as he spread them apart, keeping you open to Wooyoung whose jaw was clenched so tightly and his eyes focused on just you.

Your husband could feel you leaning onto him, unable to hold yourself up from the exhaustion. You weakly shifted and wriggled, aching for friction, and the hybrid meters away was salivating and so willing to give you what you wanted.

As if to rub salt in the wound and his suffering, Hongjoong caressed your lower belly before his fingers found your swollen nub, more sweet moans that Wooyoung couldn’t get enough of leaving your lips. The mix of your arousal and Wooyoung’s cum made it easy for Hongjoong’s fingers to slide between your folds and massage your sensitive clit.

“My darling wants to cum?” Hongjoong kissed the crown of your head, moving his fingers in the way he knew would bring you to the edge.

You nodded, one of your hands moving to his hair as your hips pressed towards his hand.

“Oh, Joongie,” you sighed, eyes closing as you’re brought closer and closer to the orgasm you almost reached earlier.

“Wooyoung has a been a bad fox, darling. Touching what’s mine without my permission,” he stared at Wooyoung as he rubbed your clit, the hybrids ears drooping at the sight of you being pleasured by Hongjoong and not him. “He should be punished, don’t you think?”

Wooyoung’s eyes left your beautiful body momentarily at the word to look at Hongjoong with fear.

“Joongie, no…he’s been good—ah…”

Hongjoong kissed your cheek. “Maybe Wooyoung should tell me what he did and I’ll decide if he can cum one more time…”

Wooyoung inched closer, a small whine escaping his throat at the sweet scent of your sex. The damned collar around his neck reminded him how Hongjoong dominated him at this very moment and that if he disobeyed or made a wrong move, he won’t be able to touch you again or ever.

“Mommy was in pain s-so I helped.” Wooyoung enviously watched Hongjoong cup your swollen breast as he continued to play with your pussy.

“Mommy?” Hongjoong snickered at the way the hybrid addressed you. Who would’ve thought he would have a mommy kink?

Wooyoung blushed beneath Hongjoong’s degrading gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Milk…she was hurting 'cause of the milk. Massaging made her feel better,” he tried to speak, unable to tear his eyes away from your body writhing and twitching with pleasure. “I didn’t want it to go to waste so I—,”

“How did it taste?” Hongjoong cut him off before kissing your neck, gently pinching and rolling your puffy nipple between his fingers, not halting his ministrations of your clit.

“J-joong,” you whimpered, feeling your core tighten as you neared your climax. The way he was speaking to Wooyoung as if he wasn’t playing with and pleasuring your body in front of your beloved hybrid, made you feel a different kind of arousal.

“Tastes good. So sweet…” Wooyoung admitted, his nails digging into his thighs as he watched your face contort erotically.

“You dirty pup,” Hongjoong clicked his tongue as he felt the way your thighs tensed and how your breathing fastened. He sped his fingers up and squeezed your breast, that piling tension in your core snapping as you reached your release.

You gasped and clutched at your husband’s hair, your head thrown back as your hips trembled and your body shivered from your orgasm.

Wooyoung held his breath as he saw how more slick dripped from your already abused pussy.

“That’s it, darling. Good girl,” Hongjoong whispered in your ear, letting you ride it out while the hybrid looked like a kicked puppy gazing at you.

Your husband pets your head lovingly, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and taking his hand off your breast, feeling the wetness that coated his fingers.

“Woo says your milk tastes sweet, baby. Did you let him drink your milk?”

You nodded your head weakly, nuzzling your face into your husband’s neck.

“It made you feel better?”

You nodded again.

Hongjoong hummed and brought his fingers to his lips, aware that Wooyoung was watching him then licked his digits, tasting your milk.

“He’s right baby,” he grinned. “You taste sweet. No wonder our Youngie got carried away. But…he’s still a bad fox. He told us he’d be able to handle his rut.”

“I’m sorry—.”

“But he couldn’t resist you, baby? I told you Wooyoung had a crush on you.” Hongjoong continued to tease the hybrid, amused at how dilated his eyes were and how stiff his cock was just staring at your cunt, almost drooling at the sight.

“Youngie doesn’t want to go to the hotel…” you mumbled, gaining little of your senses back.

“I know darling but if we’re going to be taking care of him when he goes into a rut, he’s going to have to behave…”

“I’ll behave, I swear!" Wooyoung blurted out, inching closer til he was knelt by the edge of the bed, just a couple of inches away from your dripping cunt. “I’ll be good.”

“I trusted you to be able to handle your rut alone when you said so,” Hongjoong went on, caressing your sides and kissing your neck. “But I came home to this…”

Wooyoung swallowed the lump in his throat and Hongjoong gripped his chin before brushing his two digits along the hybrid’s lips, the fingers that had been on your pussy.

“Be a good boy and lick her clean, and if I’m satisfied, I’ll let you fuck her again.”

Without hesitation, Wooyoung scooted closer and buried his face into your pussy, a shiver going down his spine as he heard your sweet mewling. He lapped happily at the taste of your release and a mix of his as well, and Hongjoong was pleased with his submission and eagerness.

“What do you say, baby?” Hongjoong turned his attention back on you now, knowing he could stop Wooyoung whenever he wanted to with a tug of his collar. “Can you take our sweet Youngie’s cock again? Look how hard he is for you.”

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you gazed at your beloved hybrid. His eyes were shut in bliss as he tasted you, his hot tongue attacking and invading your overstimulated pussy once again. Then your line of vision fell to his lap, his toned thighs flexing and his cock painfully stiff and leaking messily with pre-cum.

You nodded. “I-I can.”

“That’s my good girl.” He cooed and Wooyoung’s ears pointed up at the sound of your voice, his tail wagging excitedly at the thought of being buried in your tight heat again.

Hongjoong wasn’t entirely upset with Wooyoung. He has acknowledged and accepted the fact that the busy season was going to keep him in the office more than he liked but he always trusted Wooyoung to look after you when he’s away.

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple as he laid your head on the pillow while Wooyoung positioned himself between your legs, lining his cock to your pulsing hole once more.

With the baby coming along, he wouldn’t be able to be there as often as he liked to care for your hormonal needs…as much as he’d love to do so. He just needed to balance his time to be more present as the father of the baby and your husband but he didn’t particularly mind the idea of letting Wooyoung have you from time to time. He wasn’t blind to the affection Wooyoung had for you, he just needed to make sure that Wooyoung knows his place if Hongjoong decided on letting him into yours and his relationship.

What mattered to him was your happiness and your family...and that included Wooyoung.

im sorry if this wasnt the best but yeah, 3 months worth of brain rot and business, I came up with this. Im still working on training wheels part 2 as well as continuing sway with me :> thank you so much for reading my works and your support!

tags : @songmingisthighs @bunny4yungi

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Mother Who Indulges

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel’s found other means to get his favorite snack. But he’s bad at hiding the evidence taking form on his own body.

Can be read as sequel to Mother Who Provides or on its own.

Warnings: Fat!Joel, Sub! Joel, breastfeeding, lactation kink, feedee/feeder, burping, belly worship, belly button licking, gluttony, riding, vaginial fingering, m! Masturbation, forced feeding, hands free ejaculation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, switch dynamic at the end, Mommy and brief Daddy kink, nipple play for Joel, derogatory names such as cow or hog (towards Joel)

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Your husband was never a closet eater. 

Joel was someone who enjoyed food in the company of others. Never saw it as anything more than fuel for the body, only ate when he needed it. Sure, he wouldn’t turn down a soda and a bag of chips every blue moon, but the amount of physical labor he does at his job always combats any minimal amount of snacking he does. He’s always been in perfect, lovable shape. Not shredded abs by any means, but he had just the right strength to carry you bridal style, just the right softness to cuddle up against him like a warm pillow.

Or at least, he used to.

You started to notice it after the 6 month mark of brining your baby home. As you very slowly lost a few pounds of post partum weight, Joel seemingly started to gain them—a couple dozen of them. And it was … odd. 

He didn’t go out to eat—the man preferred a home cook meal and saving a few bucks where he could. There also weren’t any suspicious amounts of extra processed snacks coming into the house. And it’s not like Joel was slacking off on the construction site by any means. And yet, you noticed it when he started huffing just to get his once baggy jeans over his thickened belly. Or the way his shirts stretched a little tighter over his chest. Or the extra grunts after any regular amount of food. 

The only real change was that 10-month old Sarah had started refusing pre-bagged bottle milk. The little thing ONLY wanted mama’s nana’s straight from the tap. And that meant Joel’s little breastfeeding habits had to go on pause so that your baby would actually eat.

“Picky little thing,” he grumbled with folded arms as your baby sucked away happily at your breasts, all wrapped up snugly in your arms. You could see the distain in his face—the idea that Sarah was no longer going to “share” your perky tits and even more delectable breastmilk. You were a full blown cow utter live and on demand when Sarah needed it.

You only laugh. “It’s all meant for the baby anyway. Besides, you got more than enough fill, right?”

He didn’t exactly answer you that night. Just grunted and walked away. You thought that was the end of it.

Until one night: half asleep and feeling an incredibly soreness in your breasts. It felt hot, wet, and heavy like a sack of potatoes sitting atop your chest, with a leach on the end of it. Though, you did notice they gradually felt lighter, which is strange. You always filled with milk over night. Groaning, your nipples felt twisty, sore as hell. Groggily you reach under the covers—God, why are they so hard and big? I can’t even feel it … oh, oh no. why it is hairy? And there’s growling coming from below.

 Panic ensures, fear that you’re turning into some hairy wolf beast stuck in a dream, becoming misshaped and hideous and—

You wake up fully and toss the covers off, revealing your husband who’s latched on to your tit, suckling the milk like in second heaven.

You stare down at him disappointingly. Joel only just realizes he’s been caught, your nip falling from his mouth with suctioned pop, as cream pours from his lips. Caught red handed.

“Um….sorry. Was hungry.”

You wack his head hard several times, enunciating, “That-is-for-the-baby!”

“Okay okay!”

“Do you do this often when I’m asleep?”

Joel shifts up slightly, staring down at your teeth ridden mounds. He clears his throat guiltily. “…No...”

He got an earful, and you were careful to make sure he didn’t try sneaking Sarah’s breakfast off of you in the early morning again. 

And that seemed like the end of it. He never brought it up or complained again.

And yet, the man was still gaining weight like nobody’s business…

-

Joel doesn’t like sneaking around his wife. 

Realistically, he should have been losing weight, what with the extra snack of your milk each night he could enjoy now entirely off the menu. He should have not been too indulgent either, as you may have noticed his... physical difference. In fact, he was surprised it didn’t really dawn on you, where all those extra pounds on your hubby are coming from.

Joel tiptoes down to the kitchen in the late night, far after you’re lightly snoring. He makes sure not to hit the pressure sensitive creaky floorboards too. Honestly, even with the extra weight, he’s pretty good at slinky-ing around. 

But his eagerness is getting the best of him. Rumbling through his body despite the slowness in his pace. He waits all day for this moment and can’t rush it now.

He cracks open the fridge, the light illuminating the dark kitchen as he briefly scans behind him again for any signs of movement. When the area is secure, he turn back. He’s so excited, goosebumps riveting his skin. Bubbles gurgling in his stomach. He’s become gluttonous, no doubt. But when you get that high, it’s hard to just quit cold turkey. 

Reaching behind the beer bottles, carefully laid under a foil wrap of steak, is his most prized possession of the late night endeavors: that extra sum of frozen baggies of your breastmilk in the freezer that you gracious kept saved and that his even more gracious baby now refuses to drink. To his luck, you must have mentally completely forgotten about them. He always pulls three each night and lets them thaw in their hidden place in the refrigerator, waiting all day for this exact moment.

His obtuse stomach rumbles. Joel typically wears a buttoned sleep shirt as of late since it was the only thing that fit him to bed. But now the bottom few buttons had torn off, leaving his fat gut rounded and hanging out. 

The hungry man licks his lips as he tears open the first buoyant bag of cream, his lips quivering when that first scent hits his nose. “Ah—oh fuck yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he groans, but quickly softens his voice again, remembering he can’t get caught on his indulgence.

He hastily dips a fat finger into the milk and swirls it before pushing past his lips. Joel closes his eyes, humming loudly as the taste of your fine breastmilk invade his buds, travel through his electrical signals to his brain that then releases pleasure throughout his entire body. He moans around his digit, sucking every little drop until he’s close to gnawing his finger off. Then he releases with a pop and grins, dipping two more fingers and scooping it out messily. Tilting back to drink the second helping. It drips down his palm, and he’s quick to suckle it up. None can be wasted.

He suppresses a slight burp. His large stomach screaming for more, for what he came he for. Joel tilts the baggie back over his head, leaning back and drinks the entire contents. Audible gulp after gulp, the sweet taste of milk fills his tongue and travels to his happy belly. All while his other wondering hand roams over the thick, stretched flesh, right over his belly button, jiggling the heavy underside of lard. God he feels so good like this. Getting gorged out on your milk, feeling so full and fulfilled from it. 

He wags the bag once the last few drops are struggling to pour, sticking his tongue out like a dog. Heat spreads from his core down to his loins. Joel grips his hardened length over his soft pj shorts. He can’t help it. He once had prime seat to your lap, drinking straight from your tits whenever he felt like it while you jerked him off. Now reduced to palming his hard-on while lapping at your bagged milk by himself in the dark late of night.

 The first bag never lasts. He makes sure to lick any remnant on his lips, squeezing his belly and groan with a pathetic whimper. He needs more. He always needs more. Thankfully there are two more bags for tonight, but fuck he could drink 300 right now and still never be full. 

His shirt stretches tightly over his chest, and he decides to unbutton the top few stained buttons. His puffy chest bursts through the fabric like a damn. Now fully free, the silk material hanging forgotten and obscured by his massive figure, Joel can now take more enjoyment out of tearing into the next bag and downing it even faster than the first.

He huffs out, breathing for the first time after slurping the entire bag in one go. Rubbing faster up and down his stiff cock. Shit, he’s gonna cum. Feels so euphoric having his tip bump against the lower hang of his pooch. The fat tip meeting his even fatter tummy. 

And your taste. That’s what sends him over every night. Has him cumming in his sleep shorts by the time he’s finished the third bag. Joel grunts, lifting his stomach from the underside so his other hand can palm his swollen dick. “Momma’s got the best milk,” he hums to himself, eyes closed in bliss. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, fuck yeah, I’m—I’m gonna—!”

“So!”

Joel swings around, crashing his body into the open refrigerator door, spilling his precious milk all over his tits and belly. Only to be met with you, your arms folded over your  chest, spaghetti silk nightgown adorning your figure and a knowing smirk on your face.

“So this is where you’ve been getting your little extra snacks.”

He’s speechless, caught and cornered with no where to go. His mouth opens, but no words leave, like a gaping fish out of water.

“Nothing to say, Joel?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I—its—“ he casts down at his belly sadly. God, he looks pathetic now. Cock rock hard and stabbing through his pants, and belly flush out like a pig at a buffet. You must think he’s disgusting like this. “I…I missed your milk, baby,” he says solemnly. “Got carried away, I guess.” 

Instead of the scolding he expects, you walk up to him quietly and bring his eyes to yours. Taking the bag of half drank breastmilk, he acquiesces and lets you. 

To his surprise, you hold it up slightly to mouth level for him. “Looks like you’re not finished yet, honey.” 

Joel stares at you, confused. But when you start palming his erection, gliding your hand up and around his belly with a swirling ticklish finger before brushing back down to his dick, he doesn’t have any braincells left. You push the bag forward and his jaw drops open once again, feeding him. With you at the control, he gulps quickly, afraid to lose any as you pour the entire contents at once. He sputters a moment when the bag is empty, too caught up on the pleasurable heat spreading in his crotch and core again. You kiss his lips, the sweet taste making you realize how difficult it must have been for him to give something so delightful up.

“Mmmm, that’s better?”

“Ah—oh—oh-yeah-so good baby-shit-“ he groans as you continue your ministrations on his member. With two hands, you hoist the underside of his enlarged middle, bouncing it up and down. 

“Oh, Joel,” you tsk. “So light. So empty! We’re not done yet big boy. Not even close.”

-

 They say there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.

But as for Joel, stripped naked and sitting his fat ass on the couch, gorging on the funneled tube that’s been cascading a mix of whole and breastmilk into his stomach, he can confidently say that saying doesn’t apply here.

His finishes a big gulp before pulling the nozzle away, letting out a massive burp. As he grips the side of his belly, the rolls on his side multiplying before his vary eyes and skin stretching like a taught balloon, he’s never felt so full in his life. 

And it feels fucking amazing. 

He’s never felt so guilt-free, so perfectly enlightened and fully allowing himself to feel pleasure like to this level. 

“You full yet?” You coo. You’re standing next to him by the cough, a gallon of mixed milk partially full in one hand as you check on your gluttonous husband.

He shakes his head, devious and energized. “Hit me again, baby!” He puts the nozzle back in his mouth and rests the back of his head on the couch headrest again.

You chuckle but does as he says, pouring the jug into the large funnel. He can’t wait fast enough for the milk to force its way through the tube and finally squirts onto his tongue again.

“That’s my good boy. Mommy loves filling you up with her milk. No need to hide it from me any more baby. You keep drinking and drinking until you’re full.”

With one hand splayed over his belly button, physically feeling his gut fill past its maximum, he gets a quick glance at you. The way you giddily grin, eyeing him up and down in his fattened state like a delicious piece of steak. He’s never felt so sexy in his life.

His cock feels it too. Reddened and swollen beyond belief. curved against the swell of his belly leaving a sticky trail where his precum keeps nudging along. Though, with how much he’s packing into his stomach, he’s struggling more and more to be able to fully grasp his cock and jerk it with the mean pumps he usually does. Joel was the type of masturbator to grip his base with one hand while the other beats his meat like a car engine. His arms still retained their muscled strength, but everywhere else was starting to fill in. Now, he can only get one hand down there to gently tug on it. 

“Poor baby, got you so fat you can basely touch that little dick?” You tease. Though at the sheer size of him, Joel Miller’s cock is anything but ‘little.’ In fact, it’s even more imposing now, like somehow he added a few extra pounds onto his mini me as well to keep the proportions the same. 

“S’not little. I can—oh fuck—still reach jus’ fine.”

Another burp billows up his throat, and he just gets the tube out of his mouth to let it out. Hell, he can barely move. The amount of effort just to sit upright again makes him bounce his whole body, the fat moving at a slower pace. Fuck, even when he can’t fully jerk his cock like he used to, the pressure of his belly on top of his tip, smushing his balls into the couch feels heavenly. Especially when he bounces and rocks back and forth slightly. Friction doing its thing and grinding his sack between his big thighs. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “M so full of you.” He peers up to you with heart, drunken full pupils as he jiggles his belly. “M’ so packed tight. So much Mommy’s milk.” One finger trails up the fold under his pec, now swollen like a breast himself, before pinching and rolling his nips between his calloused fingers.

“Yeah? Let Mommy feel.” You press your palm over his chest, down to his belly that protrudes so far out. Despite being squishy earlier this night, his stomach is indeed bursting to its limit. Hardened just as yours was right before giving birth. 

“Aww, oh Joel…” you squeeze your thumb into his belly button and grip the lower half before jiggling it roughly. He gasps and pushes him belly out further for you, rocking his hips best he can into the air. “You really are full baby, huh? Greedy greedy piggy.”

“Mhm,” he hums with a pout, licking his lips. “Momma’s fat fuckin’ gluttonous hog. ‘At’s me.”

You prop the funnel up on a coat hook before sliding down to your knees in front of your husband. He leans as far forward as possible to be able to see all over you between his chunky legs, parted to let you breathe against his tummy that’s right up against your face.

You gently caress his sides along the rounded shape, holding his middle in your hands. You’re so soft against him, so loving and careful. He feels no different right now than when he used to be able to lie on your lap and feed from your tit. It’s been so long since then, and he realizes now this is the feeling he’d been chasing bag after bag all this time.

Your soft cheek presses into his skin there, making him sigh relaxed. 

He’s getting lost in the feeling of you on him, but you need to keep him on track.

“Keep drinking. You’ve got 2 more gallons.” You point towards the table where more mixed milk sits, and Joel settles up and begins gulping his cream again.

He moans, cock twitching against your chest as your tongue swirls around his belly button, dipping inside slightly. The hairs around his happy trail feel soft as you stroke along his naval. You can hear the little sloshing of liquid inside him each time you plant a wet kiss against his skin, making out with his gorged stomach. 

The weeping end of his length bobs painfully each time you brush it. You notice he’s glancing down at you playing with him, while he continues to swallow big batches down his throat. “You want me to take care of your little problem?”

He nods pitifully. 

“Not until you’re done.” You smile, standing up and gripping his belly harshly. He grunts but doesn’t release the bottled end, sucking more milk as you slap his belly repeatedly. Watching it wobble from the sheer effort and taking a moment to settle before you slap it again. Each time he whimpers but pushes it out more, asking for another.

“Greedy“—slap—“fat“—slap—“Milk hungry“—slap—“whore.”

You squeeze his plush tit, no bigger than an A cup but still, the man had nothing there before. He grunts and eyes you, dark and pleading. “Holy fuck, You’ve even got such cute cow titties Joel.” You giggle, rolling his perked nipples under you thumb while cupping the rest of the fat pooling there. “Wouldn’t that be something? Squeezing milk from your own tits?” You place your mouth on his pecs and begin suckling like the tip of his cock. Joel tosses his head back, milk spilling from his cheeks as he howls in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck Momma that’s it—keep sucking my fat tits—christ. Fuck—fuckFUCK!” One hand caresses your hair as he whines, “I Love you.”

“I love you too. How are we doing?” You gesture to the funnel.

He tilts it upside down. “All out,” he says with a grimace.

“Good. On your knees.”

You grab his chubby hands and hoist him up, the two of you laughing when he fails after the first attempt.

When he does get to his feet, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him. “You look so fucking sexy, Joel Miller.” 

You brush his fingers under your thigh, between your slit. “Oh—shit—so fuckin’ wet,” he whispers, rubbing your slicked walls with his meaty fingers.

 Pressing your cunt against his crotch, your belly collides with his, creating the perfect friction on your clit. “I want you bigger than me when you knock me up with twins next.”

He grits his teeth and hisses against your lips. The mental image doing a whirlwind on him. You chuck two pillows to the ground for him comfort. With a big thud, he gets to one knee on the plush, then the other, arms flailing forward and hands plastered on the ground to hold his weight. His belly sags so heavily, causing him to groan. the compressed tip is damn near toughing the floorboards even as he holds cow position. 

He stares up back up at you, soft big moo moo eyes getting eager when you grab the funnel and uncap another jug.

 He used to marvel at how much pregnancy changed you. At how he changed you. Your body growing round with child, a child he put inside you, and then your tits swelling up with milk, all because of him.

And now he’s changing physically because of you too. His body filling with fat, engorged from your abundant lactation that you’re feeding him.

He sticks his tongue out without a single word, sucking in the nozzle and guzzling the milk funneling through again. 

He downs this one fast and hard, pushing away with a big sigh. “Christ, I can’t do it. MN’gonna fuckin’ explode.”

You crouch down to see his convex stomach. It’s perfectly rounded and bulging like a moon. 

He shivers when you cup the underside and glide up along, feeling how smoothed over from so much filling him. “Touch it, please touch it baby. Gonna go crazy if ya don’t.”

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, his swaying back and forth like he’s trying to get his belly to hump his dick, or maybe the other way around. He’s helpless in this position by his own doing. 

“Aww, has my big boy had enough? No more Mommy’s milk?”

He shakes his head painfully. “More,” he croaks. God, his body is screaming no. he’s never felt so ready to turn into an atom bomb, and yet his intoxicated brain knows if he can’t down the last of this gallon, you’ll never give him the full on tap again.

Joel snatches the tunnel again, balancing on one hand briefly as he wraps his tongue around and drinks yet again. Gulp after gulp, the sweet liquid bulges in his esophagus before traveling down to his mighty belly. You kiss his cheek and hold the nozzle to his face, forcing it to stay. “Almost there, Joel, drink it to the last drop, and then you’ll get your reward…” you not so subtly squeeze your breasts together, and that does it for him.

He spits out the nozzle and falls head first to the ground, back arched as much as possible as his tummy smushes into the hardwood. With a howl, his hips jerk forward into his fat middle, suffocating the tip and he starts cumming untouched. “Oh-ah-ahaugghhh-yeah—yeah!” He hums, cheek pressed into the ground and drool and milk spilling from those sinful lips along with a litany of sexy, satisfied noises. 

All the while you praise him with kisses and gentle curls of his hair, telling him how good he’s been for you. The funnel rolls around the floor, having been drained into Joel’s gut just a moment before he gave in. 

And you’d think he was done, out for the count, needing a fat coma nap. Instead, just as you help him up to his bum, Joel snatches your waist. “Get on my lap Momma,” he slurs, licking his lips once again. You half climb, half are hoisted up to his lap, his cream coated cock still raging hard and sitting between the two of you. “Show me what those bouncing titties can do. “He slaps your breasts with little slapslapslaps. The tight grip he has on your hips forces you to begin rolling, your neglected cunt beautifully nudged against his sack with his belly and cock brushing your clit.

“Hop on Pop,” he chuckles. 

Gripping one of his shoulders, you align his cock along your soaked folds and sink down on him, the two of you sighing heavily. His sticky cum coated length needed no prep to enter you, filling your womb to the brim with his Daddy sized dick. “Gonna pump you full now, little Momma. Gonna get ya bred in no time.” Joel dips his head down and latches your tit between his jaws.

You gasp and grip his hair as he begins suckling out your warm breastmilk. It’s like all this time, he wasn’t truly even full. Like he had a separate storage in this lard living planet between you just for your hot fresh pure milk. 

“J-Joel,” you moan, eyes rolling. He’s always been good at sex. Always had a great body, but this…this is different. You can feel all of him pressing against you. Burrying your nub and hitting it so deliciously from the outside as he pummels you from the inside. You fee like a little doll, being used like a flashlight up and down along his thick cock

“That’s it, Mommy, ride me. Ride my fat cock. Ride it till ya swollen here—“ he pokes at your stomach “—as big as mine, like ya said.” You grin, biting your teeth. “B-bigger.”

He smiles. “Bigger.” His beefy hands wrap around your back and pull you as close to him as you can physically manage. “Let Daddy do all the work on that one. Just gotta take my cream, at’s all. I drink yours—n’ you take mine.”

“Mmfff--fuck—fuckyes Daddy fill me up—fill me with your cream! Ah! oh shit I’m cumming! Make me a Mommy again!”

You spasm, convulsing around Joel’s base just as he stills and ruts his second load inside you, grunting into your tits like a pained beast. You feel each pulse overwhelming your walls, yet having nowhere else to go but inside. The man has never cum so much in a second orgasm in his life, and you start to wonder if any of this is your own milk having traveled to his balls and deposited safely inside you again.

As the two of you come down, breathing in and holding one another tightly, Joel pecks at your jaw with feather kisses.

“You know…I won’t be lactating forever.” You twirl some of his curly brown hair out of his sweaty temple. “It’s going to end eventually.”

He only shrugs. 

Gasping as his dick twitches to life inside you once again, he presses his lips to yours and begins shallowly thrusting again. “Guess I’m just gonna have to keep knocking you up.”

- - - -

Notes: I have plans for more Fat!Joel content in a variety of flavors...not just subby and breastfeeding. Will be different characters and have other independent requests so stay tuned!

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[holylulusworld]

Dinner for four (4)

Summary: You, your husband, and little Bucky eat together to celebrate something special.

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, daddy Bucky

Catch up here: Dinner for three

Dinner for … masterlist

“Daddy, tell me again how you met Mommy,” your son tugs at his father’s sleeve. “DADDY! DADDY!” James Buchanan Jr. is a little whirlwind. The spit-image of you and Bucky. Of course, the little boy got his father’s cocky attitude and smirk.

“Bucky Jr., don’t annoy your daddy. He just came home and invited us for dinner. Isn’t he a great daddy?” You tut and run your hand over your son’s head. He excitedly jumps up and down and grins at his father. 

“Daddy? Can I have ice cream too?” Your son pouts and sniffles. “Please, daddy.”

“You’ll ask your mommy,” Bucky crouches down to ruffle his son’s hair. “She’s the boss, you know.”

“Mommy is the boss,” your son nods and turns around to give you an even cuter pout. “Mommy, can I have ice cream?”

“If you are a good boy and eat your dinner first, you’ll get ice cream,” you peck his hair. “Daddy can have some too.”

“What about you and little sis?” Your son turns around to place his tiny hands on your grown belly. He gasps and looks up at you like you are a wonder. “Baby sister kicked my hands.”

“She knows you are her big brother and wants your attention.” You smile at your son. He’s eager to meet his little sister and loves to rub your belly whenever he gets the chance to do so.

“YEAH!” He gasps and covers his mouth with his tiny hands. “I’m going to be the best big brother.”

“We know you’ll be the best big brother,” Bucky softly speaks to your son. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Your table is ready,” you smile at the hostess. “I assume you’ll take the usual.”

Bucky picks your son up to carry him toward the table. He helps him to sit next to you before pulling the chair for you. “You look beautiful tonight, doll,” Bucky whispers in your ear. He kisses your cheek and runs his hand over your belly. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Barnes,” you watch Bucky sit on the table. He looks at the only empty seat next to him, already imagining watching his daughter enjoy the food at your favorite restaurant.

“I’m wearing my best suit for you, Mrs. Barnes,” he winks at you and smirks. “If you play your cards right tonight, I’ll give you belly rubs and a nice foot massage.”

“If you play your cards right, I’ll allow you to do more than rub my belly,” you snicker when his cheeks turn pink. “After he put little Bucky to sleep, of course.”

“Mommy, can I rub your belly too?” Your son hopefully looks at your belly. “I bet I can make her kick me again!”

“Later, bud,” Bucky says. “We will eat first, okay. Your mommy and sister are hungry. We need to take good care of mommy. She’s having your sister. Remember?”

Your son nods eagerly. He clasps his hands together, forming a plan to help you cook tomorrow. You’re eight months pregnant and are thankful for any help.

“What do you want to eat, Bucky Jr.?” You run your hand over your son’s head. “You can order anything you want. Daddy pays.”

“Daddy pays,” your son grins. “For my ice cream too!”

“He’s his mother’s son,” Bucky fake-sighs. He knows that your son holds your heart, just like Bucky.

“No, he’s his father’s son,” you shoot back. “Like father, like son.”

Bucky grins from ear to ear. He loves hearing that his son is as cocky and lovable as he is. “You can never have enough Bucky in this world.”

“I second that,” you wink at your husband. “Who else would’ve invited a lonely woman and her teddy bear to eat with him? Only a hero in an expensive suit.”

“Daddy, do you love mommy?” Your son suddenly asks. He looks a little emotional, and you immediately worry about him.

“Baby boy, I love your mommy so much I’d do anything for her,” Bucky is quick to reply. “Why do you ask, bud?”

“My friend said that his daddy doesn’t love his mommy anymore,” your son sniffles now. “That made me sad. I don’t want you to leave Mommy.”

“I’d never leave your mommy,” your husband gets up to crouch down next to your son. “See, your mommy is having your baby sister because I love her so much. And I love you too, bud.”

“Okay,” your son nods. “I love Mommy too, and you.”

Bucky wraps his arms around your son and pats his back. “I love you too, bud. So, so much. You’re my baby boy.”

You sniffle and try to hold back the tears. Watching your husband and son together makes your heart swell. “Imagine, soon we are having dinner for four, Bucky.”

“I can hardly wait…”

Part 5

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Taste of Temptation {2} || DR3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader Summary: Back by popular demand...possessive Daniel and his kitten who keeps getting into trouble thanks to the other drivers. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, age gap (13 years) reader is 20, smut, anal, cream pie, bj, cumplay WC: 5.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round 13 - Belgium “This is a good thing, babe.” Danny didn’t believe your words as he pulled you onto his lap. “People see my uniform and immediately dislike me because we are always seen escorting you guys to the stewards. The fans blame us for your penalties.”

“I get why they want to do this, but why does it have to be you,” he grumbled.

“Maybe it’s because I’m so lovable,” you suggested as you pouted and did your best impression of puppy eyes. “Who could hate this face?”

Daniel finally rewarded you with a smile as he traced your lips with his thumb. “Fine, but if I have to watch you play show pony then there’s something I get to do first.”

You were running late thanks to Danny and your thighs were slick beneath your skirt as you marched quickly through the paddock to where the FIA’s PR team were waiting. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you leave his room, knowing what a mess he had made under your skirt and that he was keeping your panties hostage. He promised he would return them after you had finished recording the interviews with McLaren and Alpine. 

“Why didn’t you jump over it?” Lando greeted as he spotted you eye up the metal barrier before deciding to walk the long way around.

“I’m in a skirt, genius.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” he shot back before giving you a friendly side hug. “I’m surprised he let you do this.”

You laughed but realised what a mistake it was as you clenched your legs together, more of his cum leaking from your pussy. “It wasn’t without conditions. Before you ask, just don’t.”

Lando wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Ew. Wasn’t going to.”

“Sure…” You rolled your eyes and was grateful that Oscar arrived so the Instagram Live feature could begin.

“What would you rather…eat brussel sprouts for the rest of your life or live in Logan’s childhood bedroom?”

“Who came up with these questions? Did your fans really send these in or are you making this up?” you asked as you pressed the back of your hand to your forehead while you considered the choices of the latest take. “Can I at least call him and ask about it? Because I’m not a fan of brussel sprouts but if he had the American flag hanging on his wall above his bed then it’s a hard pass.”

“What about my room?” Oscar offered instead.

Lando laughed behind his hand. “You had pictures of Danny on your wall so she would obviously choose that.”

Though it was no secret among the drivers that you were dating Daniel, it wasn’t something that was publicised and you narrowed your eyes at Lando before Oscar drew the attention to himself.

“Mate, what are you talking about?” Oscar joked, “I still do.”

Lando lost it and crumpled over laughing, almost taking you down with him as he clung to your arm. “Next question, next question,” he begged between the belly laughs that triggered your own and you pressed your thighs together as tight as possible. 

Just when you thought you had recovered Oscar picked up the next card and he pressed his lips together as he tried to compose himself. “I think Doohan sent this one in...Cats or dogs?” 

One look from Lando was all it took. 

“Don’t you say it,” you warned as his lips twitched. “Don’t you dare. There are children watching.”

Lando’s eye flickered to the side where Esteban and Pierre were laughing as they waited for their turn before he looked at the camera. “Doggy…” It was almost impossible to tell what he said as it turned to a high-keening screech of a laugh before he fell onto Oscar for support. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know this guy, never met him before in my life,” you rambled as you sidled out of the camera’s view before losing it yourself. “Fucking hell, Lando!”

The producer looked at you and shook his head. “Still live, Y/N.”

“Ahhh, my bad. Just give me a minute,” you wheezed as you walked off and found a bathroom. You wanted to curse Daniel for the ‘gift’ he had given you as you washed away the streaks of cum that ran down your thighs but you loved when he owned you. It wouldn’t have taken much longer for it to reach below your skirt and then the entire world would have seen the evidence.

If you thought the interview with McLaren took a turn, it was nothing compared to Alpine. The two Frenchmen were completely unhinged compared to the more innocent McLaren drivers and they knew exactly what they were doing with their turn of phrase. 

“What do you enjoy more, overtaking on a straight or a corner?” you asked as you bent the question card nervously. 

“Easy. Straight,” Esteban answered first. “You get to go faster and push harder.”

“Ah, yeah,” Pierre agreed with a nod. “I know what you mean. But I like a tight corner because you have to control yourself on the entry or you could hurt yourself but once you’re in you can push the limits too.” He demonstrated the ‘corner’ overtake with his fingers, curling two digits suggestively and winked at the camera.

“Is there a priest in the paddock?” you asked as you hid behind the cue card. “These two boys need God.”

You saw the smirk on Pierre’s face before he opened his mouth and you jumped in front of him, clamping a hand over his lips. “That was not an invitation to make a joke about missionary or praying on your knees or whatever other dirty thought crossed your mind. Got it?”

“Got it,” he laughed as your hand fell away and he turned you to face the camera that was still streaming. “You did it for me.”

The frustrated sound you made only caused more laughter and you tossed the remaining question cards into the air. “I think that’s enough torturing me for one day. If you need therapy after watching this like I do, feel free to send the bill to Alpine HQ in Enstone; care of Pierre Gasly.”

You closed your eyes as you leaned against the door to Danny’s room, taking a few deep breaths as you readied yourself to face him knowing he had watched the live feed. You didn’t expect him to suddenly open the door, and you tumbled back into his arms with a surprised squeak.

“I was on my way to find you, kitten,” he whispered as his arms enveloped you and he stepped back, taking you with him as he kicked the door closed again. He walked you to the small bathroom and laced his finger with yours, turning on the tap and lathering the soap over your palms. “You don’t know where Pierre’s mouth has been.”

You peered up into the mirror as the warm water washed away the touch of another man’s mouth on them and met his eyes watching you swallow. “I didn’t know they would ask those questions.”

His cheeks twitched before he stopped the dark smile from cresting and he rested his chin on your shoulder as his damp hands ran down your curves to the hem of your skirt. “Sex sells, kitten. Every marketing team knows that, even the FIA.”

His hands drew your skirt up and you gasped as he pushed you forward, bending you over the vanity. “I thought we had a deal…” he tutted as he felt the dry skin of your thighs that he parted. 

“I had to,” you whispered breathlessly as you watched his reflection, his doubtful eyebrow lifting while he pushed his jeans down his legs. “Everyone would have seen.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled in your ear as he grabbed your knee and lifted it to the cold bench top. “Everyone would know who you belonged to.” His palm clamped over mouth to stifle the cry as he speared your cunt and your eyes fluttered shut as he filled you completely. “Who do you belong to, kitten?”

You lashed your tongue across his palm and he eased his grip, smearing your saliva over your chin as he reached for your throat instead. His fingers tightened as he waited for an answer and you pushed yourself back against him with a moan. “You.”

His deeply satisfied growl had your cunt clenching and he snapped his hips forward with a pace you couldn’t match. All you could do was plant your hands on the mirror and surrender yourself to the pleasure he gave you. 

“No more interviews. No more videos,” Danny stated as he grazed his teeth over your shoulder. “If someone asks, you send them my way.”

Your head was spinning as you rode the high of your orgasm and you nodded though you couldn’t think clearly. You would have said yes to anything he asked when he drove you to that dreamlike state. 

“Do you know how crazy it makes me to see you with them?” You yelped as he dug his teeth into your skin and the fog in your mind began to clear. “I want to be the only one who makes you laugh, who makes you smile. I can’t wait to have you all to myself for three weeks.”

His hips slowly rocked against you as he watched clarity return to your eyes. “What do you have planned?”

The smirk he gave you made your heart stutter and he pulled out leaving you empty. “Lots.” 

His fingers trailed through your dripping folds, gathering your slick before circling your ass and you moaned as he pressed a digit in. Your forehead dropped to the cool mirror and your breath steamed up the glass as he added another finger, stretching you ready for him. 

“You’ll find out in good time,” he promised before you felt his tip replace his fingers. “Relax, kitten.”

He gripped your hips and his thumbs massaged your lower back, easing the tense muscles before he pushed forward and your breath left your lungs in a low moan that he echoed. “Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight.”

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before you grew impatient and rolled your hips, silently begging him to start fucking you. If you were in a hotel or his apartment he would have teased you until you were crying with need and loudly begging him but the driver room wasn’t soundproof enough for that. And, he had his own schedule of appointments he needed to get to before someone came looking for him. 

“We’re gonna try this again, kitten.” His voice was deep and husky as he gripped your hips tight enough to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill this pretty little ass before I go to my interview and if you’re a good girl I might let you have these when I get back.” He reached into his jeans halfway down his thighs and pulled out your panties, balling them into his fist as he lifted them to his nose so he could inhale your scent with a hum. “Deal?”

“Yes, fine, Danny, just please fuck me,” you begged shamelessly as you reached down your front and teased yourself. He chuckled as he felt your body tighten around him before he pushed your hand aside and circled your clit himself.

“Hold on, kitten, and keep quiet.”

You bit your lip as he roughly palmed your ass, spreading your cheeks wide so he could watch how well you took every long inch of him. He shifted behind you, oh so subtly, but the change in angle made stars dance across your vision and your jaw fell slack with a silent moan.

Your palms were slipping across the mirror with every hard rut of his hips, your hands smearing the glass with the fine layer of sweat that coated your entire body. Your legs began to shake as the pressure built in your core and his breath warmed your ear as he grunted with the tightening he felt.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he praised with a whisper. “Come all over me, let me feel you.”

You teeth clenched as your orgasm ripped through you, shattering your world into splinters of light and stars only to explode again when he reached over your hip and flicked your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, holy shit,” Danny breathed against your neck as you shuddered in his arms and saw wet streaks running down your legs to the floor. “God, you’re perfect.”

He kissed your shoulder as he eased out of your ass slowly, small whimpers filling the room as your core throbbed with aftershocks. His kisses trailed up your neck and you craned your head so you could reach his lips, tasting a hint of coffee on his tongue.

“I have to go,” he murmured against your lips but still he made no effort to leave.

“Then go,” you dared, turning in the cage his arms had made around you as you pulled your skirt back into place.

His eyes narrowed at the challenge before a smarmy smile grew and he kissed your forehead as he stepped away. “Okay.”

“You’re meant to stay,” you muttered as you crossed your arms.

His deep laugh echoed through the bathroom as he pulled his jeans up and left. “You young ones think you invented everything. I’ve been pulling the reverse psychology card since you were in preschool, kitten. I’ll see you later.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, only making him laugh more on his way out the door. “Old man.”

“Heard that. I don’t need hearing aids yet, love.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing and he paused at the sound to send you a wink and blow a kiss before he was gone.

You still had a few minutes before you needed to make your way to HQ and as you sat down, tenderly, you noticed your panties on the coffee table. You started to reach for them but paused and looked around the room suspiciously before sitting back and shaking your head.

“Not falling for it,” you stated aloud just in case he was somehow listening. “Nice try, babe, but I’m not going to take the bait.”

The three week break did not go as planned. After the car’s poor performance in Belgium, Daniel and Max had been called to the factory for some much needed testing and upgrades. Not wanting to spend your holiday in the tiny city of Milton Keynes, Daniel had given you keys to his apartment in Monaco and one of his credit cards with the demand that you spoil yourself while he isn’t there to do it for you.

You were surprised to see his name pop up on your phone in the middle of the day but you quickly answered it with a smile. “Hey, aren’t you busy?”

“Just taking a little break.” He sounded tired and you wished he had video called so you could see his face. “What are you up to?”

“I’m going to Rejuvenate, remember? Getting a massage, maybe a facial too.”

“I could give you one of those, the facial not the massage. Though I could probably manage that too.” 

“You have the hands for it, but I think they would wander too much to actually massage me properly.” The spa was just up ahead and you slowed your walk so you could keep talking a minute more. “I miss you.”

“Yeah? Me too, kitten,” he chuckled softly and the sound was so intimate you could have sworn he was right next to you. “I’ll see you soon.”

The soothing scent of lavender and jasmine welcomed you as you stepped inside the boutique spa. You immediately began to relax as you undressed and lay down on the massage table, draping a towel over your lower half while you waited for the masseuse to arrive. The sounds of gentle ocean waves and whales singing started to fill the room and you shifted on the table as you settled into a comfortable position and your vision narrowed to the small circle your face rested in. 

The door creaked open and you heard the tinkle of glass jars before the cork on one was unstopped with a pop.

“Special Offer: Afternoon Delight with a happy ending?”

You jumped at the deep voice and nearly fell off the table as you turned to see Danny oiling his hands up in the candlelight. “What are you doing here?”

He looked exactly as you had imagined after the phone call, handsome, as always, but exhaustion left dark smudges beneath his eyes that wrinkled with the smile he gave you. He crossed the narrow space as you reached for him, your lips reuniting with desperate need after almost a week apart and he pulled away breathless.

“I’m taking a little break, heading back in the morning. But I needed one night with my kitten.” His slick hands warmed your back as he held you close. “I’m not going to let this oil go to waste by the way, lay down.”

Danny whipped the towel away from you and hummed as he eyed your body up with the hunger of a man who had been starving for a week. The look was one reflected in your eyes as he untied his robe and let it hang open for you to see he hadn’t only been oiling his hands.

“I’m glad you found the right room,” you commented as you bit your lip and laid down on your back.

His lips twitched as he reached for the opened jar and drizzled the warm coconut oil over your chest. “This time. Don’t ask me how many rooms there are in this place.”

Your breasts bounced as you giggled and he cupped them as he worked the oil into your skin. A contented sigh fell from your parted lips as you relaxed under his ministrations and your nipples peaked at the touch. The air rushed from you with a gasp when he pinched one sharply and you felt the jolt all the way down to your core.

“So responsive,” he growled as one hand traced a line to your navel and continued further, slipping between your legs and feeling how wet you were for him. “Hmm, I wonder…”

“What?” you asked curiously as you fought the urge to squirm.

“Have you thought about piercing these? I think you’d enjoy it,” he asked as he pinched your nipple and curled his fingers deep in your cunt at the same time, your back arching off the table with a moan. “Make you even more sensitive.”

His fingers were working you to a frenzy and you couldn’t think clearly as he put the idea in your head but every time your walls started to flutter he slowed down with a teasing chuckle. 

“Fuck, Danny, I need you,” you begged as you reached for his cock and stroked the hard length. “Please.”

“Have you been a good girl?” he asked as he watched your hand sliding up and down his shaft, his dick glistening with oil.

“Yes,” you whined. “I haven’t come since you left, I haven’t touched myself.”

He kissed you messily with teeth and tongue as he palmed your clit and he inhaled your cry of ecstasy as he gave you the release you needed. “Open up, kitten,” he ordered as he pulled you up to the top of the table and left your head hanging over the edge. He fisted his cock and ran the weeping tip over your lips and you flicked your tongue out to taste him. “Relax your throat, babygirl.”

You let your head fall back and his hands massaged the column of your throat as he pushed past your lips and coconut overpowered the taste of his musk on your tongue. You ran your hands over your chest, slicking them up with oil before grabbing his ass and digging your nails in to spur him on.  

“That’s it, kitten, use those claws,” he urged as his glutes tensed beneath your hands with each thrust into your mouth. 

Spittle ran over your lips and your eyes watered as he abused your mouth and your body responded with a throb deep in your core. Getting him off was a sure way of getting yourself off as you had found out and you prided yourself on making his knees weak. 

After crossing your legs to give yourself friction you turned all your focus on pleasuring Danny, teasing him as he so often did to you with an oiled finger. A deep groan filled the room and Daniel lost his rhythm as you curled your finger and found the spot like he had taught you to.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, kitten,” he warned as his cock seemed to swell even more, making breathing impossible. Tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes and his fingers tightened around your throat as if he could touch himself before he growled through his gritted teeth and pulled out. Hot ropes of cum spurted across your lips and cheeks before he released a shuddering breath and placed a steadying hand on the table beside you.

It didn’t take him long to recover before he reached over to the service table and placed two items over your eyes. “There’s your facial, love.”

You licked your lips and hummed at the taste of him before picking the items up to see them. “You really put the ‘cum’ in cucumber.” He grinned as you took a bite of one before tossing the other at him. “Go on, high performance athlete, it's healthy for you. Cucumber has lots of vitamins, plus it's boosted with a shot of protein.”

He dodged the cum covered slice with a laugh and pulled his robe back around his body. “Sorry, I’ve already had my protein shake for the day. Does this place have showers?”

You accepted the hand he offered to help you sit up and pointed to the curtain hiding a door. “How did you manage this?”

“Turned up the charm, kitten,” he winked as he stepped into the bathroom, beckoning you to follow with an outstretched hand. “But it was the cash that won them over.”

You caught the washcloth he tossed over and wiped away his facial while he found the right temperature that you both could agree on. When your face was clean, you stepped under the cascade and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Thank you for coming. You look like you could do with a nap.”

He returned the embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head as the water washed over his back. “I always want a nap after coming,” he joked before tipping your chin back with his finger, a sombre look on his face. “How have you been sleeping?”

“It’ll be better tonight,” was all you could say, anything more would have only made his departure in the morning even harder. “How much longer do you think testing will take?”

He sighed heavily and grabbed a sample size bottle of body wash, squirting it into his hand before lathering it up on his chest. “Another week maybe, hopefully just a few days.”

He pulled you against him and shimmied to share the suds, and lighten the mood, and you giggled as his chest hairs tickled your skin. He visibly relaxed at the sound of your laugh and you cupped his face to feel the muscles pulling into a smile.

“Ready to go home?” you asked softly.

He brushed a quick kiss over your lips and shut off the shower with a nod. “Probably should get going. Max invited us out while everyone’s in town.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“The usual suspects.” He shrugged his shoulders as he started drying himself. “Lando and Charles at least, maybe Pierre if he hasn’t gone back to Milan yet. Carlos too?”

Every time he had a get together he seemed to invite more of his fellow drivers and it was finally changing how the media portrayed him as he was photographed with them. “Max is starting to collect drivers like Pokémon. You know, like that app that came out a few years ago…gotta catch ‘em all.”

Daniel’s face pinched in pain, his brows furrowed together as his upper lip curled back with a groan. “An app? Gen Z strikes again.”

“What do you mean?” Your eyelashes bashed at him innocently but you couldn’t hold the facade as you slapped his chest with a laugh. “I’m kidding, babe, I know it was a Netflix show first.”

“You’re funny, really,” he chuckled when he saw you suppressing your smile and it finally broke through. “Get dressed before I bend you over my knee and spank you.”

The cocktails had been far stronger than you thought and you no longer felt the cold out on the back deck of Max’s yacht. You had shrugged your jacket off as heat flushed through you and let the sea breeze kiss your bare arms while Danny had gone to get you a glass of water.

“So when are we going to make another video?” Pierre asked as he stepped out onto the deck to join you in leaning against the rail overlooking the bright city lights on the skyline.

“It’s only been a week,” you said as he bumped your shoulder and you pushed him back. “How’s things going with Kika?”

A bright smile graced his lips at your friend's name, the handful of dates they had been on seeming to have been a good start. “I'm heading to Paris in a few days to see her. Hey, you should come too. She’d be happier getting you over roses.”

“Oh thanks, I’m reduced to being just a gift now, huh?”

He draped an arm over your shoulder and laughed heartily. “I can tie a little bow around you, if you want.”

“What’s the penalty for breaking a few fingers?” Daniel wondered aloud as he stood in the kitchen watching Pierre touch you.

“What did you expect?” Kelly laughed, announcing her quiet arrival into the room. “She’s pretty and surrounded by rich, good looking guys. She’s too young for you anyway.”

The water from the tap overflowed the glass and wet Daniel’s hand before he turned it off and faced Max’s girlfriend. “That’s pot calling the kettle...”

You slipped out from under Pierre’s arm and shook your head. “Sorry, buddy, there’s only one guy that gets to tie me up.”

Leaving the Frenchman chuckling, you turned and found Danny with a very full glass of water and smiled gratefully as you took it. “Everything alright?”

He waited until you had drunk a few mouthfuls before taking the glass and placing it on the table. Your lips parted in surprise as he pulled you into his arms and captured them, his tongue dancing with yours without care that you weren’t alone. He was usually so careful and controlled outside the privacy of four walls but there was some need driving his passion as his hand trailed down your back to squeeze your ass.

He chuckled as he pulled away, brushing the pad of his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips and spying the desire in your eyes to take things further. He glanced over your shoulder with a smirk before turning his attention back to you and said, “Now it is.”

—

You knew Danny wasn’t pleased that you were going to Paris with Pierre but there was only so much to do in Monaco on your own. Lando had kept you company for a day, borrowing Max’s jet ski while he was away, but then he was heading to the McLaren factory for his own testing so you had taken up Pierre’s offer.

You did have one surprise in store for Danny that you knew would make him happy when you saw him, and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week to hurry up and arrive.

“Say cheese,” Pierre said as he shoved his phone in your face after gathering it from the security scanner along with his carryon luggage.

The security guard rolled his eyes with a look that said he was over dealing with celebrities and he waved you through with a sharp, “Next!”

“Get out of my way,” you growled as you walked through the metal detector.

“Step this way, please,” the man said as he pointed to the big x-ray machine.

“But, I didn’t-” you pointed to the metal detector that hadn’t made a sound but he cut you off.

“It’s a random selection.”

“Random my ass,” you muttered under your breath as you stepped into the machine and pulled the finger at Pierre who was still videoing you. The camera shook as he tried not to laugh out loud and he gave you the thumbs up as the x-ray spun around with its scan.

“Oh, no way,” Pierre laughed and he stepped closer to the image. “You’ve got your nipples pierced!?”

“If this is live and not just a recording I am going to kill you, Gasly.” You looked at the security guard as he checked over the image. “Can I get out now?”

“Go on,” he waved you through and you swiped your bag from Pierre’s hand as you passed him.

“You ruined my surprise.”

“I’m sure he will still be surprised, when he sees the vid,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m sorry, the fans love seeing you, I thought an impromptu live might be fun.”

“Let’s just get on the plane before someone makes an anonymous call to traffic control about a dodgy Frenchman.”

“He wouldn’t.”

One look at you had him swallowing and his pace picking up. You were mostly joking, but when it came to you, well, Danny could act first without thinking about the consequences. It only took eight hours for you to realise how true that was.

“Where is he?”

A scream of terror pierced the air as your blankets were torn from your body and you scrambled towards the headboard as a silhouette stood beside your bed.

“Danny?” Your voice trembled as your eyes adjusted to the dark hotel room and you recognised his shape that matched the voice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He grabbed your hand that clutched your chest and pinned it at your side. “Where. Is. He?”

His beard burned your cheek as he growled in your ear and you couldn’t think as his scent drove you crazy. “Who?”

“Gasly.”

“Why would Pierre be in here?” you asked, your genuine confusion giving him pause.

“Because you came here with him, to the city of love,” he spat angrily as he flicked the bedside lamp on. “All fucking day, pictures of you two have been tagged on Insta.”

“I came with him to see Kika,” you whispered.

“Your model friend?”

“Yeeeeah,” you drawled, attitude lacing your tone. “They’re dating. Pierre and Kika. In a suite down the hall.”

“I didn’t see her in any pictures with him,” he murmured as he sat back on the bed and dragged a hand down his tired face. “It looked like you and him were…the comments…”

“Things are new for them, they’re not ready to go public yet,” you said as you cupped his jaw and saw the circles beneath his eyes were darker than last week. “You’re the only man I’m interested in. Even when you are overbearing and possessive, and showing up in my room at,” you looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand, “3am.”

“There weren’t any flights or I would have been here earlier.”

He let you pull him down beside you and his arm fell into place around your waist where it belonged.

“You’re an idiot,” you said as you kissed his jawline. “But you’re my idiot.”

His chest bounced with a laugh before he turned his head to capture your lips and his hand started to drift up your camisole until you pulled back with a yelp.

“I’m going to kill him,” Danny promised as he pushed you into your back and carefully pulled the top away and saw the two metal bars catch the lamp light. “I can’t believe he got to see these first.”

“He didn’t ‘see’ them, not like this,” you corrected as his fingers inched closer to the temptation. “This is all for you, babe, only you.”

“Ugh, I want to play with them,” he grumbled as he nipped at the supple skin of your breasts, careful not to hurt the healing piercings. “When can I touch them?”

“Not soon enough,” you said, equally frustrated with the wait as your nipples began to harden and tingles spread around the metal as they stiffened to peaks. “You wouldn’t believe how good they feel.”

“Don’t tease me, kitten, I’m too on edge. It was a long drive fuelled with anger and energy drink.” His voice was husky in your ear and it woke your body, your leg curling over his hip to pull him closer. “I don’t know how rough I’ll be.”

“It’s been a week, Danny. I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t make me wait.”

You rolled your hips against him and felt his jeans straining to contain him. You saw the moment he lost control, his pupils blowing out with desire and he gave into the primal need to own you. He needed the reassurance that you belonged to him and you just needed to feel him.

“Please, fuck me. I’m yours, Danny, please…”

“Fuck,” he moaned as he ground his jeans against the thin fabric of your panties. “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure the whole world knows it from now on.”

Click here for part three.

Tagging: @mloyer @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @galenna @idkmanthisiskindacool @starwarssavy23

[writing-with-moss]

If you take requests, could you do one on how helpful soap, Gaz, price and Ghost would be to reader on her period?

OMG OMG OMG OMG MY FIRST REQUEST EEEEEEEEEH!!!!

thank you smmmm anon!

I'm so excited, this is gonna be fun to write

/)/) ( . .) ( づ♡

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

How TF141 would deal with reader on their period

(Authors note!) I assumed you wanted it to be a romantic partner? If you wanted to have it be a regular soldier or platonic pls let me know! These are based on my own periods, nausea, slight cramps, regular cycle, moodiness, back aches. This won't be for everyone, and if you would like smth super specific pls just inbox me! or reblog with ur idea and I'll tag you <3 -Moss

Tw/Cw- Periods obv, descriptions of blood, cravings, headaches, nausea and vomiting, Midol and painkillers/medications, mentions of pregnancy and sex, all that icky not so fun stuff :( (except the sex part but we wont talk Abt that). Reader doesn't use pronouns (LIKE A TRUE REPUBLICAN RAAAAAH, i'm kidding I swear) but they have a female body, cause periods :P

(sorry it's kind of short, writing slump :/)

Ghost~

You heard your boyfriends heavy footsteps immediately in the door.

"Hi...Si..." You groan from your nest in the corner of the couch, your head was pounding. Augh this was awful.

"Period?" His rough stubble brushed against your cheek as he planted a chaste kiss across your temple.

"Yeah..." You manage to moan out, clutching at your stomach when suddenly he drops a plastic bag onto the table.

"I got Midol...and Reece's. And ice cream is in the freezer."

You can see a rare ghost of a smile across his lips and it makes you feel a bit better.

"How did you..?"

"I'm not stupid. I have the tracker on my phone luvie." He gives you another kiss, a bit firmer this time before getting up, running up to your room to get a heating pad.

Soap~

You were hunched over the toilet, vomiting your guts out. Barely able to hold back your hair. The bile burned in your throat, a sick taste on your tongue as you retched.

"Holy shite wha's wrong with ya lassie?" Your boyfriend stands in the doorway, wide eyed.

"nausea..." You whine, as he immediately kneels down to hold back your hair.

"You ain't telling me...that..?" He raised a brow, a flash of fear and excitement in his eyes.

"NO! It's- oh my God Johnny. I'm on my damn period." You grumble, wiping your mouth as you rub your teary eyes.

"Ah." He nods, chuckling. "Ya sure? Didn't really use protection last time I shagged yer-"

"Don't even go there." You slap his side and glare, and he shrugs. A boyish smile on his lips as he brushed your hair back into a neat low ponytail.

"Hey, if ya complain so much, I might give ya bairn. Wouldn't have to deal with this and I'd get a-" You sock him in the bicep and he laughs. "Aye, Aye, I get it...Yer strong for a lassie-"

"Oh that's it-" You lunge for him and he runs off fake screaming.

Gaz~

"Uhhh...Babe?"

You whirl around to see your very surprised boyfriend standing in the kitchen doorway. Rightfully surprised, as it was 1 in the morning and you're stuffing your face with as much ice cream as you can possibly get down your throat.

"...you alright?"

You stand up, wiping the small bit of cream from your lip and clear your throat awkwardly. You lock eyes for a moment before you speak. "Oh don't judge me. My uterus is preforming an occult ritual, and needs a lot of blood."

"Ah." He cracks a weak smile at that and walks over, rubbing your back. "You want me to eat with you?"

"touch my ice cream Kyle and I'll shank you."

"Yes Ma'am."

Price~

Price is a girl dad. All girls actually. So today, in this house, it's shark week. Where all of his 3 daughters and his insane very lovable wife all sync up.

He shuffles into the kitchen, quickly trying to stuff as much chocolate and sugar into the cabinets before they find him. He hears a noise, fear creeps up his spine.

Oh no...they're coming.

He rushes up the stairs, taking two at a time. Dammit, his old man knees aren't up to his fearful movements. He hears them. The terrifying creatures are catching up.

"I love you all! Have fun with yer ice cream sweeties!" He screams, before diving into his bedroom and shutting the door. He sighs, a smile on his face. He took care of his favorite girls and now-

"Where the hell have you been John Price?"

He turns. His spouse on the bed with a scowl on their face.

"Theres ice cream in the kitchen?"

"...Truce, husband." And they slink away.

(Please reblog, liking doesn’t do anything for my posts and it doesn’t boost any engagement. Either comment or reblog)

[melukonova]

LOVING SEPHIROTH, sephiroth x reader.

tw. mentions of his hurtful past, emotional abuse that miniroth didn't deserve :( this post can be seen as suggestive but it's left mostly to your interpretation

a/n. for @silverflqmes , my best friend who has inspired me to write yet again for something i love and for writing various requests for me, indulging me in my own happiness. you are never leaving this deep hole of ff7 that i dug for you AHAHAHAH! this is also for the many fans who have made fanfics and such that have shaped me now<3 much love to you all! (i will make more headcanons if this gets love) also sephiroth might be a little ooc since he's new territory of writing for me :,)

info. very lovable and soft sephiroth<3 very short blurbs! inspired by the song everything by lifehouse, i can see him relating about you, the reader, and how he feels for you. enjoy! pre-nibelheim!!!

𐚁. sephiroth's love language can be seen as quality time as seen with the time he spent with genesis and angeal, he grew very attached easily. i can see this in a similiar way since i'm sure once you've caught sephiroth's eye, you're happily in his heart. he enjoys just being together, perhaps he'll teach you how to use masamune (a toy version at least since he wants to protect you from injuries). don't get me wrong, every other love language applies for him too but i know he's happiest with the fact that you're there by his side.

𐚁. he is very awkward with affection so the first time you hold him, i think he wouldn't know what to do but he'll awkwardly pat your back while trying not to freak out a bit by being touched since he was experimented on as a child. please teach him how to love, he didn't get enough as kid... i think being patient with him would also warm his heart with you as well. he isn't the best with people, just in using his sword... which is why it's an anomaly to him if you stuck around for this long.

𐚁. indulging ellie on this one: sephiroth with a kitten. he probably is the one to adopt a kitten out of the two of you except what you didn't expect was him to basically mother the kitten. i think his wounds are still healing from the fact that the locket of his mother was torn away from him.. but you guys both loved that kitten very much, naming saikou which means radiance. it is the radiance of both of your lives and definitely a way to heal from your guys' pain, whatever it may be from your end but i know sephiroth suffers from loneliness and feeling not good enough. he feels this much less because of you though and of course, saikou. saikou is now your love rival... the kitty is his precious baby but you are his most prized treasure.

𐚁. while i said quality time is his favorite love language, i think that he likes physical affection as well since he never really knew what it's like to be loved. he wanted to learn though as well as learn to love you which led to teaching him how to cuddle. still very awkward, he's trying his very hardest as he pats your head and encases you into his body. eventually it led to couch cuddles every time he came home from work, he won't say it out loud but this is his favorite part of being able to be with you. he is so beyond smitten.

𐚁. as sephiroth had been in SOLDIER all of his life, he's not completely sure the best way to comfort you on many things but what he can do is to give you a better night! he'd come home with flowers since somehow zack had talked him into buying flowers from his girlfriend, what can i say? zack was a persuasive businessman and sephiroth had no clue how to be a good boyfriend. he'd probably panic if he couldn't make you feel better, he just wants you happy and would slay his enemies (those who wronged you). he'd indulge you in just about anything that you wanted to do between him trying on your favorite dress, self-care day with face masks, kisses all over to make you less insecure or just to feel more loved, an ice cream date, etc. you name it and it's done. he'd even sneak you into the training room on the SOLDIER floor to take you on a loving date with an even more beautiful sunset but all he could see was his sun, you.

𐚁. you already know his hair care routine since it was leaked from your mail, did i mention you were apart of sephiroth's fan club? he uses a WHOLE bottle of shampoo and conditioner. one day you had to braid his hair, adding in flowers to his hair as you braided it. he loved it since it kept his face clear for combat, meanwhile genesis and angeal snickered at him since his s/o made him look all pretty so none of his enemies would take him seriously. masamune said differently than his hair did. if somebody ruined the artwork of your braiding? they ALSO had a date with masamune.

𐚁. he doesn't like a lot of attention as many would say since he is so famous. this is the big question, how did you enter his life in comparison to the fangirls? you understood him. it was a new feeling for him and he didn't know how much he would end up loving it. no thirsting over how hot he was or saying how strong he had been. just a simple: "i know you've been working hard for so long, you deserve some rest," was enough to make him moved by you. nobody could compare to you in his innocent heart. he was so new to every experience, every hug, every kiss, and every touch you gave him. each time was something new that he had learned to love about you and eventually love about himself as well. you helped him to understand he was more than a monster, more than a soldier, more than just a test subject.

𐚁. what you hadn't expect is to find a loving sephiroth in the kitchen with you, holding you close to him as you listened to italian cooking music (the pasta addict in me thinks he'd want to learn more about pasta and its origin). his head was leaning down towards yours while staring down at your lips as you both had been swaying. his hand had been on your waist and the other had been moving up from your shoulder, over your neck slowly with care, to your soft cheek. capturing you in his lips, the water had boiled over but he didn't care at that moment. the thing he clung onto most was this moment because at this moment, sephiroth just knew. he was in love and he finally felt free as he deepened the kiss. he knew where home was and he was kissing his own home, taking in all of what makes you so lovable as well.

melukonova, 2024. 𐀔

[gfriendunited]

© lovable cream | do not edit

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

Eddie who creams his pants while eating reader out x reader who squirts from being throat fucked

omg this would be a perfect match!

the first time eddie eats you out, he doesn’t really take his time. he’s so into you and he’s waited so long for that moment, that taking his time is really the last thing on his mind. he just dives right in, without much thought to it or what he’s doing. you love it, though, and makes sure he knows it. you moan loudly, you grind against his face, you say his name, you pull his hair, you keep getting more & more wet.

eddie, being the lovable perv that he is, is in absolute heaven. he’s never cum in his pants from eating someone out before, unless he was touching himself as he did it. but he’s so hard, so turned on by the whole thing and by you, that he can’t help it. he makes an absolute mess in his pants, and he’s so embarrassed by it that he stops.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, frowning. “why did you stop?”

“I, uh…” he says, redness blossoming on his cheeks. “i just, uh..i came.”

“you came?” you ask, chuckling. “just from that?”

“yeah, um…” he says, growing more & more red by the second. “i’m really sorry.”

“nah, it’s okay,” you assure him, bucking your hips toward him. “all I ask is that you finish me.”

and he does, but it isn’t the only first that happens that night. later, when he’s hard again, you offer to suck his cock. you pull him out, marveling at how pretty his dick is, and you tease him a little at first. you jerk him off, playing with the tip, sucking on his balls, kissing the shaft. and when you do take him, it’s deep down your throat. he gets so into it that he starts fucking your throat, and you gladly let him take the reins. you touch yourself as he does it, his hands gripping tightly on your head as he thrusts deeply. you’re no longer in control; you’ve surrendered it completely to him.

“fuck, your mouth is so good,” he moans, nails digging into your scalp. “you’re such a good fucking girl, taking me like that.”

you gag and choke, but he still doesn’t stop. you didn’t want him to, anyway; all of this is turning you on so much that you start to finger yourself. he keeps going, and soon, you’re cumming. you squirt all over your hand, and eddie smirks when he notices. he pulls out of your mouth, and the only thing now connecting you to him is the bridge of spit from your lips to the tip of his cock.

“fuck, did you just squirt?” he asks.

“mmm hmm,” you say. “that’s the first time I‘ve ever had my throat fucked. I guess I really liked it.”

“fuck,” he hisses, helping you to your feet before throwing you down onto the bed. “wanna see if I can make you do that again, around my dick this time?”

“do you even have to ask?” you say, smirking as you spread your legs for him. “go for it.”

————

mini taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @keikoraven @sunkillerdreamer

[turtledovenycx]

"Under the stage, below the platform" (𝐁.𝐂)

🎧Chase Atlantic - Heaven and Back

“The feeling of pleasure with the thrill of not being caught was so naughty, so wrong.”

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐭𝐚𝐠: 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐮, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭🔞

𝐖.𝐂 𝟒.𝟐𝐤

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐒𝐞𝐦𝐢-𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠)

“She looks good in that skirt.” Chan’s thoughts were half rational and half PornHub. He was not the kind to lose his cool that easily, being the leader of an unruly but lovable band that behaved like children for half of his life, he was well versed in keeping calm but lord! Were you testing him today? 

The crew had given the boys a holiday under supervision. In light of their fame, they had to select an amusement park where they wouldn’t be disturbed too much. The crowd at this park was present but thankfully scattered. It was just the managers, the boys, and a few friends, no cameras, no scripts, and no retakes, they had the freedom to just be themselves without the pressure. However, this was not necessarily a good thing especially for Chan because if the boys were loud on camera, they were supersonic off camera sometimes completely forgetting their idol image. The perks were their VIP passes which ensured they did not stay at one spot for long enough to be noticed. 

Some of the boys invited their s/os’ like Chan while the single members of the group took the liberty to bring their closest friends. It was like an extended hangover, after the initial awkwardness of the meet-up and introduction, the atmosphere shifted from bashful laughter to free laughter. Since for some of them, it was a date the team decided to form small groups or go as couples until they regrouped for lunch at the nearby place. This was the most normal they had been in their recent schedules. 

You and Chan decided to venture off alone, going through the highlight rides before it got too crowded and then slowly making your way across one end of the park to the other. It was so refreshing as both of you spent time laughing and wandering in and out of stores and souvenir shops. Your laughter increased tenfold when both of heard what sounded like Changbin’s scream as the ride rose into the air and dropped. The ride read DareDevil and Chan's phone lit up with a notification, a selfie - in which Lee Know was smirking wearing a devil horns headband, Changbin crying in the background, and Jeongin losing his shit from laughter. You both stared at his phone the group chat alive from the incoming messages, you sipped from Chan’s drink, his focus turning to yours while your attention was on the phone. 

Your eyes crinkled at the edges as the grin never left your face, a soft laugh escaped as the phone lit up with new messages and more pictures of poor traumatized Binnie. Your lips looked so soft, so plump and bright now resting between your teeth as you tried to control your laughter. You took another sip of the slushie your eyebrows narrowing at the cold. 

Just like it narrows when- 

“Channie, want ice cream?” You asked looking up to find him staring at you, his face so close to yours his nose almost brushed yours when you lifted your head. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before brushing a stray strand of hair off your face. He nodded, his eyes landing briefly on your lips before he pulled himself together. “Yeah.” He said clearing his throat, you smiled before walking forward, hand in his leading him through the crowd. Chan was a gentleman, your boyfriend treated you like a princess in and out of bed. He was never against PDA but he held himself back from kissing you in public given his responsibilities of his image and most importantly he did not want you to feel overwhelmed not that you ever could with how comfortable you were with him.

It had started with your skirt, Chan loved your body and soul, and he urged you to do the same. He was the happiest when you pushed past your insecurities and dressed up… just for him at times. To him you are the most beautiful being in the room regardless of where you guys are. As of right now, The skirt you had on was soft, not as soft as your plush thighs but soft and fell seductively till your mid-thigh. The ruffles and bows drew attention to the material and your legs… oh your legs Chan thought, ‘Mine’.

 The top you wore was tight in all the right places, accentuating the curves of your torso and your breasts peaking out from the sweetheart neckline. The two-layered necklace that adorned your neck completed the look, a surge of possessiveness went through his body after seeing the C imprinted on the choker. 

“There it is” you chimed stopping abruptly, Chan almost did not hear you. There was a queue in front of the stand, you hesitated ‘What if someone recognized Chan?’

“We can get it som-” he pulled you forward and stood behind a mother and her kids who were waiting in line. You stood a step behind him. 

“Chris, what if someone sees you?” you whispered using his first name, his cock stirred in his pants you only called him that when you were serious or horny. 

“I’m wearing a hat, plus I don’t see anyone who could potentially notice us, “ he replied after doing a quick scan of the short queue, a few kids, parents, moms and dads juggling toddlers and some teenage couple. 

“Okay,” you sighed, slipping your hand into his and interlocking your fingers, Chan brought your palm to his mouth placing a soft kiss on top. You blushed and smiled brightly up at him and Chan wanted to kiss you so badly. Oh fuck! 

You guys talked about this and that, you trying to make sure no one saw Chan and him trying not to bend down and kiss you square on the mouth. He successfully distracted you as you recited the latest drama that was going on in your workplace. You rambled on and on pouting slightly at the memory of the argument and Chan found it adorable. He even thought about pulling you in between the stores and fulfilling his wish. But before he had to go to the bathroom. 

“Baby, I need to go use the restroom,” he said placing a discreet kiss on your head. You nodded, the line was slowed down because the machine had stopped. Chan walked away from the line as two workers wrestled with it. 

When he returned you were on your phone and there was just one customer in front of you. He took a once over of you again, standing there brows knitted in concentration, one hand playing with your necklace before looking up at him, your face smoothed and a smile broke down, your turn was up as he jogged towards you. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” the boy behind the screen asked before his eyes landed on you. His eyes too flicked to your lips for a split second as you skimmed the menu. The appearance of your boyfriend next to you wiped the small smirk of the boy’s face replaced by a disappointed frown. This however did not go unnoticed by Chan. 

“I’m thinking blackberry or should I get mango?” you ask breaking the glare he held onto the boy as he looked down at you. 

“Get what you want love.” he deadpanned, his curt answer surprised you, but you brushed it off.

“I’ll have the blackberry swirl.” you smiled at the boy who clicked onto his screen, “would you like that to be in a cone or cup?” He returned with an over-enthusiastic smile. “Cone please” he nodded. 

“And a salted caramel-” you stated looking at Chan for confirmation, he nodded before smiling to himself giddy that you knew exactly what he craved.

“Cone or cup.” the boy rudely asked eyes turning to Chan, he glared back with the same intensity. “Cup.” Chan would have added a please or a smile under normal circumstances but this guy was being rude.  

“Could I interest you in any toppings?” he asked eyes trained on you as you were busy watching the ice cream being scooped.

 “I don’t know it's an additional few dollars.” 

“It’s on the house.” the boy smiled as his co-worker scooped up the blackberry swirl in a generous amount and placed it on a cone covered with tissue. 

“Oh really?” you asked, his smile grew brighter, and Chan clenched his jaw.

“Chocolate sprinkles in the salted caramel please,” you said placing the menu down. The poor boy’s face fell and Chan held back a laughter. He was beaming with pride at the guy's failed attempt. Chan wasn’t usually petty and he understood how people would look for an extra few seconds when you were so beautiful. But it’s the way his eyes trailed your torso every time you weren’t looking and the fact that even though it was established that you were taken he would not back off purposely ignoring and behaving rudely to Chan. 

“Right it's 18 dollars,” he said his eyes glancing at your chest when you looked away to retrieve the money from your purse.

“I got it,” you said but before you could pay Chan had given his card. 

“Make it 20 dollars,” Chan said smirking, holding out the card in his hand in front of your body, covering your chest and blocking the creeps view. 

“I could have paid,” you said pouting, he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close as you guys moved to the pick-up counter

“Funny, you think I  would let you pay,” Chan said as your orders were done. 

“Thank you,” you said grabbing the sweet treat and licking off the top, before helping Chan get his spoon and you were off. 

You guys walked in silence before you started. “But still, you are always paying for everything. The trip, our souvenirs even the VIP bands,” you say eating your ice cream while arguing why you should be allowed to get the ice cream you and Chan are currently devouring. Fully paid. 

“Okay first, the trip and VIP bands are from the company, secondly I like paying for everything, not because I have to or I don't think you can pay but because it makes me happy. I don’t want you to pay, just be here with me, I’ll accept that as payment.” He said almost finishing his cup, extending the last bite to you which you gladly accepted. 

“That was cheesy and maybe we shouldn’t have ordered the toppings... Does it taste weird or just me?”

“It tastes fine.” He shrugged throwing the cup in the nearby bin, you guys were on this street set of the theme park. The sides are lined with fake stone buildings with wax statues and stores. There were red phone booths and short streetlights on the path you both walked. 

“Speaking of weird, Channie did you feel the dude was being a bit rude?” You asked halfway through your cone. 

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” he said holding your hand in the process. 

“A little huh? You looked like you wanted to shoot lasers at him,” you stated, he looked baffled.

“You noticed?” he asked you giggled at how shy your boyfriend seemed now.

“Baby, he was being weird I honestly wanted to cancel when he was rude to you. I’m not that clueless you know. I saw you glare at him.” you guys had stopped walking, Chan did not how he felt. Silly? Proud? Turned on? 

“It was kind of hot.” you winked and that was the last straw, Chan pulled you between two fake buildings into an alleyway. 

“Chan-” you gasped but he had his lips on yours before another word. He tasted like caramel without the weird aftertaste of the toppings. His kisses were fervent, hot, and desperate. 

“Princess. wanted. To. kiss. From. before.” he said in between kisses, his hands fervently grabbing your body. Your waist, your hips, your butt, your hands, your face. 

“Me too,” you said hand grabbing his collar the other balancing your almost finished ice cream. 

“I wanted to kiss you too,” you said kissing his soft lips he held the back of your head, angling it so that he could press to you closer. The taste of caramel and blackberry mixing invades both your senses.

The need to breathe broke the heated kiss, Chan placing his forehead on yours and gasping. You had a smile on your face. 

“You wanted to kiss me too?” he asked, one of his palms gently holding your cheek, he placed a chaste kiss on them. 

“Mhmm.” you nodded, biting your lower lip, “Since we stepped in the park, I was scared that someone would see us and recognize you,” you admitted looking at your boyfriend. His lip now appeared swollen, glistening with your gloss and saliva. His eyes clouded and had a mischievous glint in them. 

“I know me too…. I love you,” he told you kissing your lips to seal his words. You giggled as he alternated with loud smooches and soft kisses all over your face. Chan’s love has always been this and it enthralled you, silly and pure. 

“Chris…” you gasped as a few drops of ice cream that was left on the cone fell onto your collarbone missing your garments. 

He smirked before looking in the direction you all came in, there were people but no one noticed the small nook. Chan grabbed the hand that held the small piece of cone before bringing it to his lips, 

“Mmm.” he exaggerated as he ate the cone, teasingly licking and biting your fingers in the process. Your face flushed red, and your breath became shallow. He moved onto your neck next, placing a long lavish lick from the base of your neck to the side of it. 

“Ah, Chris…” you moaned hand in his hair as he licked the ice cream off your collarbone, sucking and biting on the skin to leave a faint mark. He kissed the hickey and kissed his way till his teeth grazed the shell of your ear. 

Your hands found their way to his chest as he teased the skin behind your ear earning a soft whimper out of you. 

“We are in public… we can’t ..ah” you whispered as your boyfriend pulled your body flush against his. Hand slithering under your skirt he grabbed handfuls of your ass as he kissed you again, his tongue entering your mouth as you gasped. 

“Channie…” you pushed him away to put space between the two of you. Heaving as you guys neglected oxygen. He wasn’t done he had lost half his rational thoughts and right now all he wanted was you, more and more of you. He pulled you towards him by your hands and was about to kiss you when a loud whistle broke the trance you were in, clearing both of your thoughts and reminding you guys that people could see you. No one noticed thankfully the whistle was just a group of friends goofing around. 

“I need more,” he whispered in your ear as you straightened his shirt, wiped gloss off his lips, and tended to yourself. Your face felt hot at his submission his hands snaking around your waist. Your boyfriend rarely showed this side of him, but you became excited and shy when it did. He was so demanding and his usual shyness faded revealing a bold man with a filthy mouth.

“We can’t, not here,” you said placing a kiss on his lips and walking towards the front of the alley. A few kids had begun to look into the space wondering. 

He pulled you back a few steps. “The restrooms?” 

“Chan, it's the holiday season, and a lot of people will be there in the restroom how are you gonna sneak into the women's room.” you laughed as you both emerged from the nook onto the street.

“Wait, why me? I’ll sneak you in.” He protested.

“There is no way I’m sneaking into the men’s room,” you say

“But-” his whine got cut off with a phone call. 

“They are regrouping, it's 1 p.m.” He said. 

“So fast? Where was the pizza place again?” you questioned, looking at the hand map you guys had grabbed from the entrance, if you both made a shortcut through the stage field you could reach there in a shorter time. 

“Come on.” you grabbed Chan’s hand and walked towards the stage. 

The stage was not huge but it was big enough for a band of five and their equipment to perform. It was at a decent height and could be viewed from afar. This was the heart of the park, and a local band was set up to perform. Chan zigzagged his way through the crowd, till you guys reached the stage. The platform was raised and the same height as your boyfriend. The guards hadn’t set up the gates yet so both of you slipped in and went behind the stage where people were shifting and moving props. 

“Are we allowed in here ?” you questioned as you both speed-walked through the hustle and bustle. 

“No, I don't think so.” Chan said, “I thought so, babe we -” Your sentence was cut off again as Chris pulled you under the platform, through the black curtains. The underside was spacious it was filled with backup speakers, wires, equipment, and microphone stands. Boxes and cartons filled one side and a big sound woofer was placed next to it, you could hear footsteps above you. 

“What are you doing? we are gonna get kicked out,” you whisper- yelled as the Chan cornered you, you hit the woofers and Chan caged you in with his arms. 

“I told you I want more,” he said in his thick accent, eyes falling onto your lips. The dim light and space make that action insanely attractive.

“Someone could walk in.” you tried as he dipped his head between your shoulder and neck placing kisses. 

“We have to be quick then,” Chan stated before he shut you up with a soft kiss, you all but melted. The band had begun sound testing and the bass from the guitar reverberated through the platform, to the poles that held it, into your bodies. He bit slightly onto your bottom lip, earning a whimper out of you, and pulled back. Chan looked at you as you seemed to be in a daze, eyes glazed over, marks on your neck and collarbone, and gloss-smudged lips. Gorgeous. The confined space heated up quickly as he lifted you onto the woofer, people ran to and fro -on and behind that stage- but at that moment you couldn't care less, it was like you both had entered a different world. Where the two of you were alone.

His fingers began undoing the ties on your top, pulling the neckline down to expose your breast. 

“Ah, Chris-” you mewled when Chan kissed around your nipple, before playing with it using his tongue. The band had begun playing a song as Chan created bite marks around the supple flesh and sucked on your nipple till you couldn’t hold back your moans. 

“My girl, so sensitive here,” he said using his forefinger to circle your hardened bud, your body jerking at the action. He kissed you as his hands made their way all over your body, one palm gripped your ass as the other disappeared between your legs and moved your skirt out of the way. 

You moaned into his mouth your hands reached towards his bulge, trying to provide friction over the rough denim as he pushed your panties aside and played with your clit.

“You are so wet for me? Hm? All for me my baby…” he all but breathed into your mouth, one of his fingers entering you as you let out a whine. Chan groaned as you reached for his zipper but he stopped you. 

“I want to taste you.” He said before he got on his knees and pushed your skirt up,

“Channie-” you tried weakly as he licked a fat strip from your hole to your clit. Repeating the action he grabbed your hands and placed them on his head, silently asking you to hold his face to your cunt before he dived in under your skirt, the material covering his head partially, holding your panties to the side.

Chan ate your pussy with fervor and passion like he was quenched and needed water, he sucked on your clit before moving towards your hole and teasing the entrance. Your moans were drowned out by the music and commotion outside, and you let out a gasp as your man placed one of your thighs on his shoulder. The new angle allowed his tongue to enter your cunt, and you almost lost balance at the sensation. Your arm tired of holding yourself up so Chan wouldn’t have to bear your whole weight and the other playing with his tresses. He was relentless, slowing down to look at you and smirk before speeding up again. Surrounded by the pleasure you did not quite register two of his fingers entering you until you felt the beginning chills of your orgasm. His fingers scissored you open as his teeth grazed your swollen clit, fingers curled to hit that one spot that had you throwing your head back. Chan gazed to see you your top half undone, tits covered in his marks and spit, hair disheveled, lips between your teeth as you held tried to hold back your sounds. One of his hands reached up to your tit and kneaded the flesh.

“Chris…. Chris.. ah … oh Channie I can’t. Ah..” your foot dig into his back as broken moans and incoherent babbles left you as he fingered you, kissing your clit. "The feeling of pleasure mixed with the thrill of not being caught was so naughty, so wrong." You began moving your hips in sync with his head. The taunt feeling in your stomach snapped when his fingers pinched your nipple and your orgasm washed over you. Your hip jerked and Chan guided you with his hands on your hips as you rode out your orgasm. You tried to pull him up and return the favor but he declined. “It’s okay baby, you can pay me back once we are home.”

“But I-”

“If we start now I don't think I can hold back,” he admitted kissing your pussy once more before he placed your leg back on the ground and got up dusting his knees. Your legs felt weak and you needed a minute to catch your breath resting your head on his shoulder. Chris wrapped his arms around you placing kisses to soothe you on your head, eyes, and neck. You lazily kissed him as he tried to knot the strings of your top. You giggled and then fixed your top yourself. He held you, his arms around your waist while you rested yours around his neck. You fixed your hair and then smiled at Chan who was busy admiring the faint post-orgasm blush on your cheeks. The music continued outside oblivious of the atmosphere under the stage below the platform

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear not wanting to break the little bubble both of you found under a stage during a band rehearsal.

“I love you too,” he said kissing you again, your lips felt fuzzy. 

“I love you,” you repeated and he chuckled. “This because I didn't get to tell you at the alley. And this-” you placed a long kiss on his lips smiling against his lips, Chan feeling dizzy “for always taking care of me.” Before Chan could reply someone entered the space both of you jumping at the intrusion. 

“HEY! WHO ARE YOU? YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE?!” the woman yelled as someone else entered under the stage. Springing to action, you both ran out of the stage into the crowd. Chan grabbed your hand as he pushed through the crowd yelling out ‘Sorry, excuse us, pardon me mate.’ you guys did not stop till the stage disappeared behind and you were close to the pizzeria. You both stopped laughing and tried to catch your breath, you fixed yourself as Chan discreetly adjusted himself in his pants. You send an apologetic glance to which he just winks and kisses you briefly. As soon as you entered the restaurant you spotted your friends, the loudest in the bunch, it was remarkable how people had not recognized them when they doing everything but laying low. The shouting and hollering intensified as the two of you approached the somewhat private tables. 

“You’re late!” Jisung yelled, he was in a mid straw fight with Seungmin. “Yeah, we took the long route,” Chan said slipping into the booth after you. 

“Of course you did.” Lee Know said smirking, he noticed the flushed expressions, Chan’s messy hair, and faint marks on you before his eyes met Chan’s. You blushed and turned away from them engaging in something Felix said.

‘Not a word’ Chan glared at Minho. He smiled shrugging before turning away to share a knowing look with Hyunjin. The fuckers had bet on why you were late Minho won clearly as Hyunjin extended a five-dollar bill to him. “Guys, Changbin Hyung cried.” Jeongin reminded again as Changbin groaned.

“In-ah! For the last time, it was because of the speed” The laughter and shouting ensued and Chan placed his hands on your thigh. The clock on the wall read 1:50 and you hoped the day would not end.

_

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦. 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘤𝘹 ©

A/N: it was a bit long right? This is my first time writing smut so excuse any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed it. follow @turtledovenycx for more.

_nyx.☽༊˚

[egberts]

we are finally home after a busy day. if you don't know already, callie passed away this morning. she fought so hard for the last month and held on for long enough that everyone who knows her and loves her got to see her and say goodbye while she was still in good spirits. unfortunately in the days leading up to this morning she suddenly rapidly declined again and we knew it was time. i won't go into the sad details but despite her condition she continued to love and be loved. she fell asleep in my arms leading up to her final moments, and we got to give her so many hugs and kisses. it didn't take long for the medicine to take her when it was finally time, she was already so weak. her personality has always been so quirky, it was hard to see her decline but she was still so full of love to the very end.

immediately after she passed alana and i went to a boardwalk nature trail and just walked for a while before going for ice cream (the cashier was incredibly nice to us, we must have seemed in need of cheering up because this was a theme of the day)

after ice cream we came home and cleaned up callie's things. vacuumed up some of the cat hair and packed away her furniture and the things we wanted to keep, we set aside some things for her memorial space, and we took everything else to the animal shelter.

just packing up her things was already somewhat cathartic but while at the shelter we decided to visit with the kitties and this was actually a very good idea. it was so bizarrely comforting, seeing and holding the small lovable kittens and realizing in a way that one day we will be able to get a cat as loving as callie was and it will be easy to fall in love with it too.

after the animal shelter, we had to swing by our house again to get the bulk pack of wet food that was delivered, very cruel irony there. it was a $50 box so i reached out for a refund and was given one pretty much immediately and told not to return the food, which gives us a reason to go back to the shelter on monday and donate this food too. (and visit more kitties of course)

we were probably keeping ourselves busy subconsciously, but it was good for us i think, because next we went to a state park and just enjoyed some time by the ocean. we saw so many crabs and even a heron came right up to us!

and you'd think that's the end of the day's adventure but no, after that we went to get pizza for dinner (because cooking is just not an option right now iykyk) and we saw a deer!! a freaking random deer after already seeing a random heron, it was just amazing.

finally we went to target to grab some necessary groceries as some kind of weird semblance that even though callie is gone life has to go on.

i am not kidding when i say every single other human we had to interact with today was nothing but kind to us. all friendly smiles. we didn't tell any of them what happened and yet every single one of them from the ice cream shop girl to the lady at the state park and even the target self checkout person. it was genuinely a beautiful day despite everything. it almost feels like callie's loving energy was just with us throughout the day.

i'm going to miss her so much, and knowing she's gone forever is very hard but i don't think i could've asked for a better experience with it. now it's time to finish up the last bit of cleaning and take a much needed shower.

after her urn and ashes arrive i'll post one final callie update, but as of now this is it. she is gone, resting in peace on the other side of the rainbow bridge. our sweet angel baby 💗

the cutest gradient trio ever btw

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

 Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

:(

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. “I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

 “You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

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

[faulty-writes]

Can I request a “Mr. Villain’s day off” fic..

The General x Human fem reader, who makes and sells stuffed animals in a little shop near the Zoo..

And maybe The General grew suspicious of her when he Sees “Red Ranger” practically abused her on her walk home one night, asking Reader to join the Rangers, because her family has a reputation for incredible combat skills.. and her flatly refusing, Reader even saying in a calm no shits given voice, and with a completely unbothered smile on her face.

“Well most humans are Asswholes anyway, we’ve been destroying our own planet for generations.. why is it so bad if the Evil League takes over the Earth?? They’d clearly treat the planet better than we have… I won’t fight for humanity, it’s shity.”

And then she just casually walks home..

Our lovable Mr. Villain is very interested curious about the Cute strange human woman..

So he goes to the shop she works at the next day to learn more about her.. and she’s in the middle of making the biggest.. Fluffiest.. CUTEST… stuffed Panda teddy-bear.. he’s ever seen… in that moment… he’s an absolute goner.

He’s smitten, lovestruck, infatuated.. She looks like an angel to him…. Also, he will make sure nobody but him will buy that huge stuffed Panda.. made by the loving hands of his “soon to be” beloved..

[ This is awesome, my first Mr. Villain request featuring the main man himself. Please let me know how I did, I tried to make the story interesting. I used the name "Warumono-san" because that's what I've seen other posts do. Not sure if that's correct or not. Regardless this was about 12 pages in Word, so I hope you enjoy it! As stated in the request this is a FEMALE READER INSERT. ]

You sighed before clenching your jaw and curling your hands into fists, practically feeling the steam seeping from your nostrils. This was getting old, and you were sick of Red Ranger constantly bothering you with his useless nonsense. “Aw, come on!” He whined.

“Will you shut up!?” You snapped, baring your teeth like a cornered animal. How could one human being be this damn annoying? How could he not take the thousands of hints you’ve given him!? No matter what you said or did to him, he only continued to pester.

Warumono-san smiled and looked at the plastic bag in his hand, the contents of which contained the goods he just purchased from the convenience store. Oh yes, he was eager to try the newest flavor of ice cream recommended to him by the convenience store worker.

It pained him to think that when he finally conquered Earth in the name of his mother planet and annihilated the Earthlings she would, unfortunately, perish. However, until then, he would enjoy her insights and the warmth her smile brought him whenever he walked past those double doors.

However, he stopped short when he heard yelling and turned to see two individuals standing on the opposite side of the street. His eyes widened when he recognized one of them was Red Ranger and his body tensed up. No doubt an embedded reaction because of his complicated past with the Rangers.

A sense of anger filled him, making his stomach twist. If there was one thing he hated, it was those damn Rangers who attempted to stop him at every turn from accomplishing his goal. ‘Yes…damn you Rangers!’ He frantically thought, ‘You will not stop our efforts to take over Earth!’

He was tempted, oh so tempted, to close his eyes and transform into his supervillain alias. The one with a menacing glare, cold-hearted aura, and dark clothing. ‘But tomorrow is the start of my day off,’ all at once that tension seemed to melt, and his shoulders relaxed.

As of now, it seemed that neither Red Ranger nor you noticed his presence, and so he remained spectating on the sidewalk. There was a slight concern that his ice cream would melt, but he assumed he had a couple of minutes to spare.

Red Ranger frowned, and the usual happy sparkle in his eyes all but faded. “B-but…tch…” pressing his teeth together, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit frustrated. He didn’t understand! Why wouldn’t you consider being part of the Rangers!?

Your family had an honorable and well-respected reputation for protecting others through perfected combat skills passed on from generation to generation. Yes, maybe you didn’t have the power the Rangers possessed, and couldn’t see the dark aura surrounding the enemy.

But it would be useful to have someone who could teach the Rangers the way of combat. His eyes moistened over causing the faint moonlight to reflect off them and a soft breeze came, ruffling his hair before he stepped forward. ‘I need to convince them to join us, whatever it takes!’ He thought before locking eyes with you.

“Why won’t you join the Rangers!?” He demanded, pressing a hand to his chest. Warumono-san’s eyes widened. ‘He wishes to recruit more Rangers!?’ The present number of Rangers was enough to deal with, how dare he try to recruit more.

‘Damn you again Rangers!’ His shoulders grew tense and his grip tightened around the plastic strap of the bag he held. ‘You and the rest of the Earthlings truly want to die!’ A growl rumbled in his throat, and he was prepared to intervene, even at the cost of allowing his precious after-work treats to melt.

He’d teach that damned Red Ranger and you a lesson. However, he paused when he heard your response, and it was so strange that it caused his lips to part and his mind to be rendered blank. What you said was unlike any response he would expect from an Earthling.

You knew that it may be unconventional and that not many would think or even say such a negative thing about their own species. But it was the truth, and it was a truth you learned the hard way. Through all the pain, suffering, and heartbreak you went through in this so-called, ‘life.’

From being forced to do things you did not wish to do, to feeling as if you had to do certain things out of guilt. It wasn’t fair! But that was the punchline of the joke. Life was not fair, and it didn’t care who it stepped on to get its way, and because of that you and everyone else unlucky enough had to suffer.

Red Ranger knit his eyebrows when he saw a smirk across your face. Placing your hands on your hips, you said, “Humanity is awful,” in a cold tone, “most of us that inhabit this planet are only killing it, and we can’t even show kindness to each other.”

His jaw dropped and his eyes widened, his pupils shaking with disbelief. “H-how can you say that Y/n?!” He demanded, curling his hands into fists. “The people here aren-” he stopped short when you held up your hand. Your eyes narrowed, and he shivered at the hateful glance now directed at him.

“What would be so bad if that Evil League you’re always talking about takes over Earth?” You demanded, taking a step toward him. “W-well, I…that’s-” he tried to come up with a reason, but you continued forward causing him to stumble back.

“They’d treat the planet better than we have. They’d probably even reverse most of the damage humans have caused!” You snapped, stomping your foot against the ground. “Ah!” Red Ranger cried out when you roughly grabbed the collar of his hoodie, forcefully pulling him down to your face.

“So, for the last fucking time,” you growled, tightening your grip. “I won’t fight for humanity. I won’t fight alongside the Rangers. Not for such a shitty planet,” you could hear him audibly swallow before he made the bold choice to wrap his fingers around your wrist.

“Don’t even think about it!” You repositioned your stance, separating your legs, and firmly pressing your feet against the ground. You already had a secure grip on his collar, and while his hand grasping your wrist may be a problem, your skills far outweighed the consequences of whatever he could do.

In one fluid motion, you pivoted and used the momentum to swing him off balance. As expected, he was caught off guard by this and the sensation of his feet lifting off the ground as he was propelled forward and over your shoulder.

Warumono-san watched the spectacle with his jaw dropped, he had never seen an Earthling cause harm to another Earthling using aggressive domination and force. He felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him when Red Ranger hit the ground and let out a painful grunt.

Silence filled the air seconds later before you towered over the man on the ground. “Idiot,” you mumbled walking past him, your steps a little heavier than normal. It was too late to be dealing with such stupidity, you needed to get home and prepare yourself for tomorrow.

After all, you had a business to run, and you couldn’t function without a proper night’s rest. “Heh,” Warumono-san clasped his chin, revealing his pointy teeth in a happy smirk. “I need to know who that Earthling is,” he concluded before his attention shifted back to Red Ranger who grunted again as he sat up.

His face twisted, and his hand rested over his stomach as if he had been punched. “W-wait…” he faintly squeaked out, reaching toward you with his other hand but you only got further and further away. However, because you were such a distance away, his attention was refocused as he suddenly sensed something nearby.

He turned, gasping when he noticed Warumono-san, and immediately panicked. He looked back at you. ‘No, I have to warn Y/n before-’ he went to get on his feet, ready to sprint down the sidewalk after you but Warumono-san cut him off.

Placing his bag of frozen treats down, a black whirlwind surrounded him as he transformed into his villainous persona. His hair now standing on end, and a menacing shadow cast over his face. A large dark cape now draped over his shoulders, weighed down by two claw-like hands.

The cape ran down his back and concealed part of a large black tail. His chest was exposed, and the strange blue-like markings that colored his waist and part of his pecs were visible. The bottom of his outfit remained the same.

He grinned and was quick to move, leaving behind a strong gust of wind that raffled the few trees embedded into the sidewalk. Their leaves rustled violently in response, and some even fell to the ground in the wake of the sudden shock of what occurred.

He grinned, amused by Red Ranger’s shocked expression. That innocence of wishing to protect another shining in his eyes, and yet regret overtook that hope. “Ah!” He cried out when Warumono-san’s hand grasped his throat and the ground underneath his feet disappeared again.

The twisted smirk on the other’s face was something he wouldn’t soon forget, and he desperately grasped onto the hand wrapped around his throat. Warumono-san realized he could have used the provided tail on his cape to render the Ranger useless.

However, there was something much more satisfying about holding the Ranger up with his bare hand. Being able to control his flow of oxygen and hear him choke as he begged for air sent a delightful tingle through his body. Yet, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Now Red Ranger…” he grimaced, allowing smoke to seep from his mouth as he pulled the boy closer. “Who was that Earthling?” He demanded, only to receive silence in response. Red Ranger clenched his jaw, opting to glare at Warumono-san instead of answering him.

When he picked up on this hostility, he tightened his hand around the other’s throat, momentarily cutting off his oxygen supply. Red Ranger’s grip on his wrist grew desperate, and despite feeling those nails digging into his flesh, he smirked yet again.

Yes, he enjoyed seeing his enemy struggling for oxygen. “It is clear she is not willing to side with you Rangers.” His eyes widened at Warumono-san’s words, and his jaw clenched, revealing his teeth which remained pressed together.

Was it true? Did you have no interest in protecting the Earth? Did you really want humanity to perish? No…he refused to believe it. He wanted to know what made you think that way, had you faced such unkindness that it rendered you to decide that Earth was not worth saving?

In his opinion, you weren’t a horrible person. You just needed a friend. Someone to make you believe in humanity again, and he wanted to be that person. His eyes focused on Warumono-san, taking in his happy but twisted expression. The man currently choking him wasn’t a horrible person either, although most wouldn’t believe that.

Yes, Warumono-san and the evil organization he was a part of were the Ranger’s sworn enemies, but he had seen and experienced firsthand how kind the villain could be. And if that were true…then could he not return that kindness?

Was protecting you the wrong thing to do if Warumono-san wouldn’t do harm to you? His eyes burned slightly, filling with tears that reflected the light provided by the streetlamps. When he noticed Red Ranger’s eyes moisten, a sign that he would soon cry, his grip on his throat loosened.

Red Ranger sharply inhaled, coughing slightly before he noticed himself being lowered back to the ground. “Huh?” He looked around, pressing his feet against the sidewalk a few times before looking back at Warumono-san who sighed and transformed into his civil form.

He leered at the Ranger who was now massaging his throat, a few tears slowly dripped down his cheeks as he attempted to regain his steady breathing. “Well,” Warumono-san stated, making the red-haired boy pause and look at him. He tilted his head to the side, exposing his sharp teeth, “What is that Earthling’s name?”

Red Ranger’s hands curled into fists, and once again, he debated telling the other what he knew. The internal struggle was clear on his face given his slanted eyebrows and tense posture and while Warumono-san noticed this, he didn’t care about how the Ranger felt.

An angry Earthling meant nothing to him. This, however, didn’t stop him from being caught off guard by the next set of words that left the Ranger’s mouth. “I-if I tell you…” he hesitated, and his lip quivered but he needed to say this!

“You...you have to promise not to hurt her!” He demanded, and part of him grew surprised to see the hint of humanity shine in the villain’s eyes. Silence lingered in the air, apart from the rumbling of distant traffic and the chirping of crickets and other insects.

He grasped his chin. He was uncertain why Red Ranger wished him to promise such a thing. Yes, his goal was to annihilate humanity and yes, he would feel bad for killing off certain people he had come to know. But you…well, you had struck a fancy in him.

Perhaps you’d be the first Earthling he’d spare from such a devastating fate. Pulling the corner of his lip up, he grimaced down at the Ranger. His stomach twisted with unease knowing he was about to bend to the other’s will, but if it got him the information, he so desired, it was a worthy sacrifice.

“Fine,” he replied, lowering his hand with the intent to shake Red Ranger’s. “It’s a deal,” he stated, and while he suspected the Ranger to be hesitant for him to keep his word, that suspicious stare of his didn’t lessen the feeling of annoyance. 

Earthlings were indeed strange, even when you gave them your word, there was still so clearly doubt. This was unlike the people back on his home planet who would keep their word and keep themselves in good standing with others.

While his hand trembled, he managed a steady handshake with Warumono-san. However, he was struck with panic when he felt the pressure of nails against the top of his hand. “Now what is her name?” He demanded, having grown too impatient for Red Ranger’s nonsense.

“Mm,” even if he was still uncomfortable with this, he couldn’t back down now. “Her name is…Y/n,” his eyes lit up. “Y/n,” he repeated, although he wasn’t partial to complimenting or even caring about Earthling names, yours sounded so sweet on his tongue.

Red Ranger nodded. “Yes and…” he paused again, wondering if he should say any more. However, he had the other’s attention, and that grim stare only convinced him to continue speaking. “She…has a shop near the Uenono Zoo,” he stated, watching the other’s eyes light up.

He knew that Warumono-san favored the zoo, particularly the panda exhibit which explained why his eyes beamed with happiness at his words. Although he hadn’t informed the other that you made and sold stuffed animals, he assumed that would be self-explanatory. “Heh,” Warumono-san smirked, “I see.”

He planned to visit your precious little shop at his earliest convenience. He turned, his eyes settling on his bag of frozen treats that remained on the sidewalk across the street. He couldn’t help but frown knowing that they were likely melted as he wasted more time than he had anticipated dealing with Red Ranger.

“Thank you for the information,” he stated, walking across the street with his hand held up. “Huh!?” He stiffened and drew his bottom lip into his mouth, watching the villain grab his plastic bag filled with who knows what before walking down the sidewalk.

He continued to watch until Warumono-san disappeared around the corner of a building, more than likely headed home. He let out the breath he was holding but his relaxation was short-lived when he heard two distinct voices behind him.

“Wow, he’s lost again, isn’t he?” A high-pitched voice said. “Still can’t find your way around the block, Red?” He blinked and slowly turned to see Sora and Mugi. As usual they were standing close together, their hands interlocked as they looked at him with unamused expressions.

“Sora, Mugi!” He shouted, alarmed that the two were by themselves, and dropped to his knees, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “What happened!? Why are you out here at night!?” He demanded, his eyes wavering with fear.

“We’re not alone,” Sora replied, her tone somewhat snarky. “Yeah, Blue is following us,” Mugi stated, pointing behind him. “Huh?” Red shifted his gaze to see a tall boy with bright blue hair, and equally blue eyes running up to them.

He was wearing an oversized dark-colored hoodie, with jeans and black shoes. As soon as he approached, he leaned over, placing his hands on his knees. His soft pants filled the air before he swallowed thickly and glared at the twins.

“Don’t run off like that again!” He scolded before a sigh passed his lips and he pressed his hand against his forehead. “Black would kill me if anything happened to you guys,” he stated, lowering his hand to resume glaring at the pair who responded with a pout.

Blue’s eyebrow twitched, even if he tried, he would be unable to explain just how irritated Sora and Mugi made him sometimes. He sighed again, trying to push his anger back before grabbing Sora’s hand. “Come on,” he urged, “we need to get back before Black gets mad.”

The last thing he needed was a lecture about how it was past Sora and Mugi’s bedtime. Red watched the interaction before looking in the direction Warumono-san went. ‘I hope Y/n will be okay,’ even if you continued to reject the idea of being part of the Rangers, he didn’t want you to be harmed by anyone.

“You too, Red!” Blue shouted, snapping the other out of his paranoid thoughts. “Huh!?” He turned his head back, looking at the three ahead of him. “Oh, r-right!” He replied, running to catch up to them. Maybe a good night’s sleep would suit him well and take his mind off you and Warumono-san.

However, that didn’t change what he had said before. If anything happened to you at the hands of that villain, he’d make sure he paid the price. ‘A shop near the zoo, a shop near the zoo…’ he thought as he walked past the Uenono Zoo.

His desire to see his precious pandas was high, but he had a mission to complete. ‘Yes!’ he thought, ‘Pandas must wait! Locating the Earthling, Y/n comes first!’ His eyes scanned the area. ‘A shop near the zoo, a shop near the zoo…’ he repeated before resuming walking.

Several small shops lined the street near the zoo and made him come to a halt. He tilted his head, grasping his chin in contemplation, and ignored the strange looks he got from passersby. Yet another odd set of behaviors he noticed Earthlings engage in.

What was so fascinating about his appearance that their stares remained fixated on him even as they walked away? Well, it mattered very little. He would not miss those stares when the Earth was overtaken in the name of his mother planet. A sigh passed his lips as he lowered his hand and yet again glanced along the row of shops.

There was only one logical thing to do now. “Yes!” He declared, making the Earthlings around him stop and look. ‘That is it! I must visit each shop to determine if it’s Y/n’s!’ He thought frantically, bending his knees, and raising his hands above his head, ignoring the fact he was indeed a spectacle.

‘Now,’ he straightened his posture, leering at the spectators who seemed to shudder and quickly walk away. “Heh…” he tried not to let his pride distract him as he, once again, looked at the shops. He lightly tapped his lips, ‘Which one do I start with?’

He quickly concluded that it didn’t matter and walked to the first little shop on the left. His eyes immediately catch the delightful display of fluffy creatures, primarily teddy bears that lined the display window. His hand fisted into the front of his shirt, his heart pounding with excitement at the uniquely crafted plush companions.

‘W-what is this!?’ He pressed his palms against the smooth glass as he observed each teddy bear. There were varieties of colors and sizes, and each one was placed in a playful pose that beckoned him to take them home. He noticed the craftsmanship of them and the intricate stitching and embroidery that truly brought them to life.

Some were even wearing tiny outfits, with miniature hats and scarves while others had delightful ribbons around their necks. Like a present you would give away on the Earthling holiday, Christmas. He was at a loss for words as he contemplated which ones he wanted to purchase.

However, they were quickly forgotten when he gazed up and his breath hitched. ‘It’s Y/n!’ He grinned, his heart now swelling with pride. ‘I found her.’ He was prepared to walk into your shop when something else caught his eye.

“Hm!?” He watched you threading a needle before leaning over to pierce it through something, but not just any old something. ‘WHAT!?’ his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as he watched you sew two pieces of fabric together.

One was colored white, and the other black. He knit his eyebrows, noticing that the fabric looked incredibly fluffy and almost defied gravity, standing out in all directions like a cloud of softness. Its dark button eyes shimmered in the light of the shop, and its silly freshly stitched together tongue hung out amidst its black-yarned smile.

“P-panda?!” Not just any panda, but the biggest, fluffiest, and cutest stuffed panda teddy bear he had ever seen or imagined. He was in awe as he continued to watch you create the stuffed companion, and his fingers curled against the glass.

You seemed unaware of his presence, and while that would normally work to his advantage, he wanted your attention. He also wanted that panda bear you were creating. He clenched his jaw, feeling a soft ache course through his teeth.

‘Yes…’ he thought, his hands now trembling. “I must make sure nobody gets the panda bear!” He pushed off the display window, stumbling as he ran to the door. He grasped the handle desperately and felt the weight of the door give way and a bell ring as he barged in.

The change in atmosphere was astounding, there was a certain warmth that surrounded him. The soft lighting that cast a gentle glow over the plush companions that lined every corner only added to the already inviting surroundings. The aroma of fabric with the faint undertone of sawdust filled his nostrils.

However, there was another scent that caught his attention. Something like a hint of lavender and cedarwood. “Hm?” You turned your head, the needle and thread still securely placed between your thumb and forefinger.

“Oh…” your eyes lingered on the strange man who entered your shop, noticing his black shirt, trench coat, and curly mess of hair that hid a portion of his face. Not to mention his long, elf-shaped ears. ‘Well…that’s some look,’ you thought, deciding to shrug it off and greet him.

“Heh,” you forced a smile and tried to muster the sweetest tone, “Hi, welcome to my shop!” His heart accelerated at the sound of your voice, and he straightened his posture. The odd feeling of warmth rushing through his cheeks almost made him think something was wrong.

For a moment, he wondered if this was a trap or if he had contracted some strange new Earthling disease. Had the Earthlings made some new weapon that weakened his kind!? Despite his internal dismay, he hummed in response to your words.

No, this reaction couldn’t have been caused by any Earthling disease. Rather, he suspected that perhaps unlike the rest of the Earthlings on this miserable planet, he had unintentionally selected you as the sole survivor when the Earth was taken over.

And the reason was that…you had caught his interest, or uh, curiosity but what would he do now that he was so close to you!? What could he say? Surely you didn’t wish to talk about the incident with Red Ranger, although that was the incident that triggered this situation.

Given that you didn’t know he had a connection with the Rangers or that he was present when you were interacting with Red Ranger, it would be unwise to mention it. In addition, he did not wish to lose something he had yet to obtain.

His eyes lingered on the stuffed panda you were currently constructing, and his shoulders stiffened. ‘Yes…the panda!’ he reached into his trench coat, pulling out his wallet. ‘I must make sure no Earthling purchases it!’ his steps echoed through the empty shop as he approached you.

“There, at least that section is finished,’ you thought, quickly cutting the remaining thread on the needle before noticing the strange man had approached you. “Uh…” glancing at him up close, you noticed just how tall he was and the slightly intimidating aura that surrounded him.

Although since you were trained in combat, you had very little to worry about. If he tried anything, he’d get his ass kicked the same way Red Ranger did. However, despite your assumptions about him, he caught you by surprise when he pointed at the panda and asked, “How much?!”

You were slightly alarmed by the panic in his voice, as if he were afraid that the stuffed panda you were working on was going to disappear out of thin air. In addition, it struck you as odd that a grown man would want such a stuffed companion. Then again, maybe you shouldn’t judge.

The man could have a family or knew someone who had children who might appreciate your craft. Of course, you knew your customers well and realized you hadn’t seen this man before. “Uh…what’s your name?” you asked, turning briefly to stick the needle you held back into the pin cushion next to the stuffed panda.

“Huh?” Warumono-san frowned. ‘What is this? Is she attempting to distract me away from the panda?’ He irrationally thought, gazing at the inanimate object before looking back at you. His eyes carefully scan you from head to toe, noting that your posture gave away your attitude.

Your hands were on your hips, and that ever-so-interesting hint of a pout on your lips, yet your furrowed brows indicated your annoyance. However, this only reminded him of what an intriguing Earthling you were, and a certain feeling overwhelmed him as he continued to stare at you.

Like a flutter of a hummingbird’s wings, his heart, no…his whole body felt light. “Heh,” he smiled. ‘Yes…well played Y/n…trying to distract me away from the panda!’ He thought, resisting the urge to frantically move his body as he normally would when consumed by his thoughts.

‘Very well, I shall play your game! But know this, the panda is mine!’ He swallowed, his grip tightening around his wallet. “Warumono-san,” he replied, his tone deep and authoritative. Given his position as General of an evil organization that set out to destroy Earth, he was used to speaking with certain tones.

Said tones were normally reserved for putting others in their place. Not that he was ruthless or unjust, no. But he wasn’t foolish enough to dismiss the idea that he deserved a certain level of respect, and even in cases where he did not receive such respect, from Trigger for example, he remained calm and collected.

Respect was earned yes, but you could not expect everyone to respect you. Yet, this ideology was quite amusing considering he found himself respecting you more than any other Earthling simply because of the way you treated Red Ranger and your opinion of the Earthlings. You blinked, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands moved from your hips and rested against your inner elbows when you crossed your arms. “Warumono-san?” You repeated, finding his name or what he liked to be addressed by rather strange. But this world was full of strange, stupid people. So, you shrugged, deciding to go along with the charade.

“Okay?” you replied, taking a breath. “My name is Y/n, I own this shop,” there was a certain bittersweet tone to your voice that made him concerned. Yet, something else took precedence at that moment. “How much for the panda?” He asked again, pointing to it, and noting your eyebrows furrowing again.

“This…” you sighed only being reminded that his behavior was odd. But he hadn’t done anything harmful, and he didn’t smell of booze, so it was safe to assume he wasn’t intoxicated. “This isn’t for sale yet an-” you stumbled back when he shoved a handful of yen into your face.

‘I must make sure nobody else gets the panda!’ His jaw clenched as he intensely stared at you. His eyes held an almost predatory glance. ‘I will not tolerate any other Earthling purchasing what was made by this Earthling!’ And when he spared your life, you could make more stuffed animals.

A stuffed animal for each of his comrades on his mother planet, oh yes! Your body stiffened, and you resisted the urge to grab his wrist and flip him over your shoulder and onto the floor. Pressing your fingertips together, you took a deep breath and felt your stomach sink and your body heat up with the slightest bit of anger.

Like a small match, ready to cause destruction if used correctly. Yet, you tried to remind yourself of the purpose of this shop. The stuffed animals that lined the walls and shelves were the legacy of what your grandparents left behind, as they believed you deserved an easier life than the one your parents tried to force you to have.

‘Right…’ you let out the breath you were holding and returned your gaze to the man who still held out a handful of money. ‘They wouldn’t have approved of me denying this man...’ your eyes lingered on his stone-cold face, ‘As strange as he is.’ Another sigh passed your lips.

“Fine,” you replied, taking the money from him, and quickly counting it. You glanced at the panda, knowing you could always make another one. It would be easy, like clockwork considering you’ve done it your whole life. “I guess this will do,” you said, folding the cash in half before tucking it into your pocket.

“But this particular panda isn’t going to be done for a couple of days,” you informed, casting a soft glare his way. But his reaction was not what you expected, it was almost like he hadn’t heard you. He remained standing there, with the strangest smile on his face.

Although you couldn’t see his eyes because his hair obstructed them, you could feel his stare and it was beginning to make you feel a little self-conscious. “Um…” you crossed your arms. “Hello?” You said, unaware that Warumono-san was simply beaming with happiness.

Not only did you agree to give him the precious panda but knowing that it was made by you made his heart even lighter. He had not felt this way since he was a young one before the crushing weight of the workforce pulled him down.

As he continued to stare at you, he noticed something about you, and it made him grasp his chin in thought. Some form of radiance surrounded you, like a golden hue. Was there not an Earthly term for that? ‘Oh yes,’ it suddenly came to him, he had read about them in one of the religious books certain Earthlings seemed to abide by.

You looked like what they depicted as an angel. Unfortunately, your angelic reign on Earth would soon be over. Yes, he had promised not to harm you, but nothing was said about capturing you. “Thank you,” he said and watched with some amusement as your eyebrows raised as if you hadn’t expected him to speak.

“Yeah well,” you huffed and glanced away from him. “I make and sell these things,” you said, motioning to the in-progress stuffed panda. “So, I guess it’s not a big deal if someone wants one before it’s finished being made,” you concluded.

“Hm?” Warumono-san sensed a heavy tension filling the air, and the frown on your face indicated you weren’t exactly the happiest now. But he remained quiet, allowing you to speak as you wished. Your throat tightened, forming a lump that made you swallow heavily.

“You know, I never really envisioned myself doing this,” you confessed, although you weren’t sure why you were revealing this to a stranger. Maybe it was because he wouldn’t judge you, not that you would care if he did. Maybe it was because you hoped you wouldn’t see him again after this.

Maybe still, there was something about him that made you feel like you could be truthful or vent a little. Beating up Red Ranger only helped so-so. “It just started off as one of my grandparent’s hobbies, and then it turned into this,” you explained, waving your hand through the air.

“Spent most of my childhood helping them with the shop, and learning how to make stuffed animals even if my parents didn’t approve,” you chuckled slightly. “All they cared about was fighting and training in the name of the family reputation.”

Yes, you were grateful that you had learned how to defend yourself, but they pushed you beyond your limits. They acted as though fighting and training were the only qualities that equaled someone being worthy. Because of that, they forced you into that lifestyle or at least it felt like they did.

It was like you never had a choice, and there was constant tension between them and your grandparents over what was best for you. The only time you seemed to get peace away from your parents, and the weight of responsibility lifted from your shoulders was when you were with your grandparents.

They showed you that there was something else you could do with your life and that you had the right to choose what you wanted to do. Of course, this was before you had learned that they left their business to you. Sometimes you think you made the choice to keep their shop alive because you felt like you owed them.

Still, it was the first choice that you had made in your otherwise suffocating life, and because of it, you were disowned by your family which only added salt to the wound. Yes...life was not fair, and the unlucky suffered because of those who thought it right to step all over others.

‘Humanity is awful,’ you thought before looking at Warumono-san. ‘But...at least I can show kindness when I wish to.’ Your chuckle didn’t fool him. It was evident there was a bittersweet sadness you were attempting to cover. “I...” he noticed your hesitance and the subtle pain that shined in your eyes.

“When they died, they passed the shop onto me. Guess I’m just trying my best to keep it alive for their sake,” you concluded with a shrug. “Mm…” perhaps this was another reason why he felt so…infatuated by you. That strong front you put up, that wall that separated your true feelings was much like his.

Yes, everyone looked up to and feared him, but was he truly as evil as everyone depicted? The answer was quite obvious. Yet, there was a tenderness underneath that front that longed to be set free but could only do so seldom. Yes, perhaps you two were more alike than he realized.

He glanced at you, the sadness that enveloped your features was something he detested, perhaps even more than the Rangers. ‘So, the business was passed down to Y/n. Earthlings are known for performing such acts for their offspring or relatives,’ although he didn’t have a solid opinion on how he felt about such things.

There was still so much to learn and comprehend when it came to Earthlings, but this didn’t change the knowledge that once something important was handed to you, it was your job to protect and let it prosper. Things he was going to do with you, very soon.

“I see,” he replied after a moment, daring to step closer to you. “We have similar exchanges on my mother planet,” he confessed before realizing his words. You knit your eyebrows. “What?” You replied, and he shook his head, deciding to choose the strategy of silence.

Although he wanted to reply and make some phony explanation as to why he said what he did, he found himself unable to think rationally. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears and his simmering hot cheeks only added to this inability.

Yet, one question screamed out in the back of his mind. How could he reveal such confidential information without a second thought!? “Uh…” you blinked, noticing the way he was positioned. He was hunched over, his knees bent and practically pressed against his chest.

His hands were tangled in his messy crop of hair, and his lips were pulled up, revealing his unusual pointy teeth. ‘Is he having some internal crisis?’ You wondered, but just as you stepped forward, he snapped out of his daze, and you saw the faintest hint of his golden orbs peering at you from behind those chocolate-colored strands.

Your eyes widened at the sight of them. Yes, you had seen some unusual things in your time, and the stories Red Ranger told you were extremely difficult to believe, let alone picture. Somehow, Warumono-san’s eyes had you frozen. But not with fear, rather something else. Something…unearthly.

‘Wait a minute...’ it slowly dawned on you. ‘Is this...one of the members of the evil organization?’ A small hint of panic consumed you, but you tried to keep your thoughts straight. That was...ridiculous. If this man was part of that organization, shouldn’t he have done something horrible to you by now?

He stood up, his posture now stiff and his hands loosely curled by his sides. He looked at you, his lips pressed out in a thin line. He could feel the tightness growing in his throat and made the choice to play ignorant, although this was his least favored tactic.

“Thank you very much,” he stated, bowing slightly before he turned to the door and the ends of his tailcoat drifted through the air as he walked away. He wrapped his hand around the metal bar across the door, and once again the bell gave a soft ring, signaling his departure.

However, he paused and looked at you from over his shoulder. His gaze lingers and makes you feel that same strange sensation as if he was from another planet. “Little plushie maker,” he purred, finding some amusement at your wide-eyed expression before walking out of the shop.

He planned to return in a few days to bring the desired plushie panda bear and possibly you home. Once again, his heart fluttered at the thought, and he smiled as he slipped his hands into his pockets, heading back toward the Uenono Zoo.

His steps echoed against the paved grooves that made up the street, and as he looked up at the sky he thought, ‘I must privately report this.’ His eyes focused on a cloud passing by, ‘The day I decided to take an Earthling as my soon to be…beloved.’