#the strong bad and strong sad ones are needs

[differenteagletragedy]

It’s not just the wanting that undoes Simon — it’s the shame in wanting. The overwhelming, all-consuming shame that makes his skin crawl and his muscles ache. Because he shouldn't want you like this. He shouldn't need it, but he does, and it nearly tears him clean in two.

He's too big to shove himself into such tiny boxes, but it's all he's ever known, so he tries anyway. The pliant son molded into the dutiful soldier. He's strong, capable and solid. Not weak, not anymore. Never weak.

But somehow you, with gentle, capable hands, find layers in him that he never knew he had -- he never wanted to have. You see parts of him that he's never even wanted to acknowledge, and it makes him feel vulnerable for the first time in a long time. And it stirs something in him that hurts.

A little boy with dark, sad eyes who wondered why no one seemed to love him. The same boy, a bit older, who told himself he didn't need the love anyway.

And he didn't, for so long. He knows he didn't. He survived just fine, behind his mask and his orders. When he got hurt, it was superficial -- a bloody wound he could watch heal.

Now, when he watches you run your fingers and lips over old scars, it feels like you're healing something deeper. But to feel that is to acknowledge those ancient aches, to know there is something inside him that's broken, and it's hell. It's a reckoning he didn't see coming, and he wasn't prepared for it at all.

You carry him through it. You encourage him to be more than the small, singular things he's always been, and you show him, through words and actions, that every last bit of him is worth loving. You see the beauty in the parts of himself he's always been so sure are bad and ugly, and he trusts you enough that he thinks someday he might start to see that beauty too.

[miaoua3]

hii ! could you do a jeonghan drabble where like hes cuddling reader and soothing her period cramps away ? also could u make it 600 words+ (if u can!!) becus i LOVE jeonghan fluff and i only can find those short ones ☹️ thank you !

hii! ofc i can do it, i just don’t know if i can make it 600+ words as that is quite long and i have 20+ requests in my inbox atm😭 still, i hope that you like it!

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(pairing: bf! jeonghan x f! reader)

warning: mentions of cramps and blood

you twist your whole body until your face ends up buried inside your pillow, eyebrows furrowed as you try to brave for another wave of pain and cramps.

you really hated surprises, especially when it’s a surprise period that we are talking about. you weren’t supposed to get it for another few days, usually somewhat on time. to say that you were completely unprepared for this is an understatement.

the cramps are so bad this time, you can’t honestly remember the last time they were this bad. unfortunately for you, the medicine doesn’t seem to be kicking in for some reason, leave you at mercy of the strong pain in your tummy.

you hold onto your tummy strongly, pushing your hands into your skin as you moan and groan in pain. you peak with one eye at the bloody sheets that you only had the strength to peel them off and throw them onto the floor, mentally making a note to put them to wash later, once your cramps stop feeling as if you are getting stabbed.

it is at moments like this you wish your boyfriend had a more flexible job, just so you could call him and ask him to come home.

almost like a prayer getting answered, you hear the front door unlocking, opening and closing, before you hear hannie’s sweet voice calling for you.

“angel? are you there? i’m home!”

you groan as you weakly call out “in the bedroom”.

in the matter of seconds, hannie appears, his joyful mood immediately souring at your state, cooing in empathy.

“oh baby why didn’t you say anything? i would’ve been home much earlier had i known that you got your period.”, he slowly approaches you before he sits down beside you, pushing the messy and frizzy hair out of your face as he looks at you with sad eyes.

you close your eyes as another wave of pain and nausea hits you, before you answer him through gritted teeth “didn’t want to bother you…plus you are here earlier either way so..”

jeonghan frowns at your words for a second before he bends down to kiss your temple, softly mumbling against your warm skin “you are never a bother to me, baby. next time, whatever the case-if you need me, call me.”

from there on, you completely shut your brain off, because jeonghan takes over and does everything he can think of to help you relax. takes a shower with you where he makes sure that the water is hot enough that it burns his skin off but he ignores the pain because he can see that it helps you with your pain. changes the sheets and puts the bloody ones into the washing machine. boils the water for the hot water bottle for you to hold onto.

and lastly, he gets into bed with you, his strong chest pressed deeply into your back as he hugs you from behind.

it seems that the painkiller finally started to kick in, or maybe your boyfriend has a magic touch, because the moment he stuck his hand under your shirt and started to softly massage and rub your tummy, your cramps started to get better, finally allowing you to relax and enjoy your boyfriends presence.

you close your eyes as you enjoy the series of kisses jeonghan softly presses into the nape of your neck, his lips taking time as he presses them into your skin. although you can feel how they are a bit scratchy, probably due to him biting them from all the stress he had to endure during the day, you just ignore the feeling and just…let his presence calm yours down.

his big and strong hand on your tummy continues to rub slow circles on it, the warm water bottle completely abandoned by you in the name of feeling the warmth jeonghan provides to you. his other hand (the one you are laying on) is intertwined with one of yours, thumb rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand.

you two don’t speak, whatever show playing on your tv providing the only sounds within the four walls of your shared bedroom.

you feel yourself slowly drifting off to dreamland, but before you can fully succumb to the sweet dreams, jeonghan presses one soft kiss onto your cheek, waking you up immediately upon feeling the touch on your skin.

his tired yet soft voice gently asks you “feeling better, my angel?”

you only have it in yourself to nod and whisper a small ‘thank you’ before you feel your eyes slowly close again, all on their own.

as you drift away, almost pain free and completely comfortable in your lover’s embrace, you hear his voice softly say

“nothing to thank me for. anything for you, baby. anything for you.”

[barefoothighlander]

the river

summary: during popes attempt to find Lena, he runs into an old friend (set during the events of s3 ep10)

andrew 'pope' cody x f!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), insinuations of abuse, mentions of previous relationship, eludes to sexual content, foster system, angst?, kinda soft!pope, kissing, not proofread

quick fic for Pope cause I'm obsessed with him and I need him BAD, maybe ooc cause I've never written for him before, might make a part 2 where they freak it idk, feedback appreciated

"I need to see her, please just let me know, is she okay?"

Popes voice is brash, full of fear, an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time, he had waited in the front room of the child services building for hours, waiting for someone to call on him, for someone to help him find his niece.

Thoughts swirled his head, too many to count as he remembered what foster care was like for him, how alone and scared he had felt all those years ago, distanced from his family. He never wanted Lena to feel like that, to feel alone, unloved, he had done everything he could to keep her safe and happy, but they still took her away, some beaurocratic bullshit about her parents being gone and Pope not technically being a blood relative.

They had optioned him with adoption but with his record he knew he would never get the papers signed, he just had to know she was okay, wasn't in some shithole like he had been, ignored by his foster parents, residing in some awful house owned by people who abused the system just to get money. When he gets called back into the office, walking toward a cubicle he cant stop his heart from racing, hounding the worker with questions about his niece, where she was, how she was doing, every question answered with the same side stepping answer of "I cant tell you that Mr. Cody" it was crap, nobody here was willing to help him.

Admittidly he came on strong, he had a tendency to do that with people, cut through the shit and just say what he thought. In his peripheral he caught a glimpse of the woman who had been at the house the day Lena was taken, he calls out to her a finger pointed in the air.

"You took her, where is she, can I just see her"

His tone shifts to one of sadness, desperation, he pleads with the worker, stepping closer to her body as he steps back.

"Sir please, you need to relax"

Pope insists, pressing the worker as the security steps forward, his arms coming in front of himself as he moves to block Pope from the workers.

It's the shouting that drags your attention from your workload, not an unusual sound in the office but for some reason, the voice is what is different, its not angry, is desperate. You poke your head above your cubicle and your heart stops, you can only see his back, but that curly auburn hair, that same hair you had run your hands through 10 years prior, his body language so familiar.

"Andrew" Your voice comes out more stern than you intended, like you're scolding him rather than calling out, and everyone's heads turn to you.

Rarely do people use his first name, here it was Mr. Cody, to everyone else 'Pope', his eyes are wild as they lock with yours, his shoulders tensing as the gleam of recognitions passes through them.

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, now" The guard says to Pope, but he doesn't move, doesn't take his gaze of yours as his hands move to his side, his face falling to one of pleading.

"It's okay Tom, I'll assist him" You nod toward the guard who wearily allows Pope to walk past, his body moving toward you before settling a few feet in front of you. Your muscles tense as he stands before you, completely different but someone so familiar to the boy you knew so long ago.

"Come with me" You say, pushing your chair into your desk and turning on your heel toward the break room. You offer him a cup of coffee and he waves you off, his hands resting in his lap as he watches you sit down beside him.

"I didn't know you worked here" He says, his eyes glued to yours.

"I didn't know you were out of jail"

"Have been for a while"

You move to speak but he cuts in before the words can escape your lips,

"You said you can help me, get her back, get back Lena"

"I can try, mostly I said it so they wouldn't kick you out or arrest you"

"Can you help"

"Im not your case worker, but I can try"

Pope explains the situation to you, all the while the knowing look on his face persists, you feel for him, his brother gone, Cath gone.

"I have to get her back, I don't want her to go through what I- what we did"

You avert your gaze, eyes falling to the floor as memories of your past rush in, "Its not like that anymore you know, we vet people, we don't just send kids into shitholes"

"How do you know"

"Theres a system in place, home checks and everything" You take a beat "I would never let a child live in a house that was unfit"

"Unfit" Pope mimics, mockery lacing his tone

"You know what I mean, just jargin for shitty, awful, abusive"

"When did you get out?" The question catches you off guard,

"A month after Smurf got you back"

"How?"

"Lets just focus on Lena, as of right now there isn't much I can do, shes been processed and placed in a home, you'll have to petition the courts"

"I cant"

Realizaiton hits you, "Because of your past"

"Theyll never let me adopt her, they wont let her live with me, I don't know what to do"

He looks at you with pleading eyes, "Just help me, please"

"Andrew, I-"

"Please" He cuts you off, his eyes locked onto yours and suddenly you're young again, just a girl following a boy around like a lost puppy, looking to him for protection, for love.

"Okay" You nod, "I'll help you"

-

The warm water soothes your skin, running down your body before pooling at your feet. You turn the shower off, stepping out to dry and wrap a towel around your body, you're a few steps into your bedroom before you hear the knock, throwing on a t-shirt and shorts before padding across the floor to open it.

"Andrew"

His eyes are glued to you, Pope always had issues with eye contact and now was no exemption.

"Did you follow me home?" Your eyes glance outside, finding his truck parked outside your house.

"Yes"

Well at least he was honest,

"Theres nothing I can do for you from here, you'll have to come to the office-"

"You're lying"

"I can't file anything from here, you know that"

"But you know where she is"

"Andrew.."

"Please, I just want to know shes okay"

"I will lose my job" You sigh

"I wont do anything, I just want to see, please"

And against better judgement, against laws and rules, against the years you'd spent apart, you cant say no to him, you cant leave him outside alone.

"Give me a second" You leave the door open for him to walk in, his body making its way down the hallway as you close your bedroom door, changing into more suitable clothes.

"You live alone" Pope says, standing in front of the pictures you had hung on the wall, a few of family members, others of landscapes, none of a partner or children.

"Yeah, haven't settled down yet" The admission stings a little, but it was the truth, you hadn't found anyone to spend your life with, let alone live with. "Come on, I'll drive"

Its a short 30 minutes to reach the subdivision, parking the car across from a nice house in a cul-de-sac.

"She lives there, a married couple, they make good money, they have another foster kid, a girl, same age as Lena"

You can see some of the tension in his body release as he sets his eyes on the house, its not rundown or decrepit like the houses the two of you had spent your years together in.

"We cant stay" You say, breaking the tension and Pope nods, his eyes on yours but his mind elsewhere.

You begin to drive away, the street lights illuminating your path as the ocean waves crash into the sand outside the car.

"You ran away" Popes question shakes your attention from the road, your hands suddenly fidgeting on the wheel.

"Yes"

"Where"

You breath deeply, taking a glance at him, suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze. "The beach, I was old enough to work and I got a job at a shop"

"They didn't catch you?"

"I was already almost an adult, and I think they assumed I had just run after you"

"You didn't"

His response strikes you,

"You didn't run after me though, I never saw you again"

"Yeah well I couldnt exactly run to Smurf and ask her for to harbor me"

"Thats not what I meant. You never talked to me again"

You sigh, pulling the car into a parking lot and killing the engine before turning to him, the streetlights illuminating his face, fuller now than it used to be, more freckled and worn.

"What was I supposed to do, run after you? Chase you around? Continue making a fool of myself?"

"You were never a fool"

You scoff, "Wasnt I though? I Followed you around day after day, clinging to you, and the whole time you were in love with another girl"

"Cath"

The name feels like a stab to the chest.

"Yes, Cath"

"Shes gone, her and Baz"

Your anger wavers for a moment, melting into pity, "I'm sorry you lost them"

He nods. "You weren't a fool, I mean I followed you around too"

"Yeah to keep those assholes from touching me"

"I wanted to protect you"

"Well thank you, but it doesn't make me feel less shitty"

"I wanted to protect you because I liked you"

"I know you liked me Andrew, I figure we wouldn't have slept together if you had hated me"

"No, I mean I wanted to be around you. When you didn't visit me, or call, I was worried"

You glance at him, sincerity written across his face, "Well I'm sorry I didn't call but I didn't exactly have your number"

"I used to think about you all the time" He admits "About where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay"

"Well, I made it out okay, seems you did too"

He shakes his head, "Alot of stuff's happened since we were kids"

You look over and all you can see is that teenager you fell in love with, freckled and full of angst, ready to be at up anyone who came near you and your heart melts, your muscles falling lose.

"I don't know what to say Andrew"

"You don't have to say anything"

You nod, a breath escaping your lips.

"Do you remember it?" He asks

You nod, "Of course I do" Memories of your warm bodies colliding in the backseat of a stolen car flash in front of your eyes, both of you nervous as he peppers kisses across your collar bone, his rough hands squeezing at your flesh.

"I cant forget it" He admits, "Its all I think about anytime I with another woman"

"Andrew."

"Im serious, that night, it meant alot to me is what Im trying to say I guess"

"It meant alot to me too"

You lock eyes, tension swirling as your body tenses, "I should get home" You say, your hand moving to turn the car key before Pope grabs it, his hand holding yours at his gaze pins you. Your heart stutters under his touch, he takes a beat before his body is moving toward you, lips colliding with yours, his hand moving form yours to hold your cheek, resting on the side of your face as your digits move to grab his shirt. He devours you, tongue pressing into your mouth6 as your teeth sink into his lower lip, your bodies melting together as the tension seeps from your muscles. Pope pulls back, his hand remaining on your cheek.

"Dont run away again"

You nod your head, eyes glossed over, watching him, the breath from your lungs stolen.

He nods his head slightly, shifting back into his seat, "I did that because I wanted to, not because I wanted to help me"

"Okay" Is the only word you can seem to form

You start the car, begining the drive back to your house through the dark, your body warm and tingling under Popes gaze. You pull into your driveway and open the door, Pope mirroring your actions, "I'll let you know if anything happens with Lena"

He nods, not moving from his spot near you, and you cant help but miss him, his touch, his lips, admittedly he looks good, solid, your years apart he grew, stronger and somehow more handsome.

"Do you want to come in?" The question escapes before you can process it. "I live alone, and I figure maybe you don't want to go back to an empty house."

"Yeah, I'd like that." A small smile quirks his lips as he follows behind you.

[cherrycilly]

Revenge

Jim O'Mahoney x reader

CW: smut ,dubcon, this is just porn with a bit of a plot . Also I am bad at writing porn so sorry if it's bad ,I am not good at this.

@cillianmurphysdimples made me do it

"Aunt Danielle " i say quietly as i creak the bedroom door of my aunt, after she was broken up with her husband, jim, she stayed with my mom for a few days. I didn't mind ,I loved the kids but aunty Danielle was so sad, crying and staying in her room all day, every time his name appeared on screen ,her eyes welled up with tears again.

Jim. It's all Jim's fault. I stared at the picture of him and my anger only grown stronger. Men like him always think they can play women as they please, like we are toys for his amusement. But of course he is good looking, with his fluffy long brown hair, the most mesmerizing blue eyes and strong jawline, he looked like an actor or a model . But he was wrong, wrong to think he can play this game. Someone had to teach him a lesson, someone had to stop him.

Every time I looked at Danielle, my need to revenge grown stronger. In the face of jim I saw the faces of all the men who cheat and lie and he was everything wrong. My mind kept swirling as I drove to the city where jim and Danielle lived. Stalking is a strong word for what I did next, I needed evidence ,evidence for his cruelty. So I followed jim as he walked to a hotel room and a beautiful woman with dark hair followed him, I took out my camera and snapped a photo, it was yevvone wasn't it? That bastard. His wife's best friend, that scumbag. He is going down.

So the plan. The plan is simple. I wear my sexiest dress ,I seduce the bastard and I destroy him, for everything he did to my beloved aunt ,to her kids, to yevvone, to her husband. Revenge.

I walk in to the bar ,my black skin tight dress and stockings ,my freshly made makeup, caught the attention of every man around, but my eyes were set on only one man. Jim.

"A vodka soda please " I tell the bartender cheerfully as I stand next to the lone jim, nursing a pint of Guinness alone and pretended like I didn't notice as he looked at my ass in that black dress. "Thanks" ,I grab the drink and start walking, accidentally bumping in to him, spilling a bit of my drink on his shirt.

"Oops I'm sooo sorry, gosh I am such a mess" I say apologetically, and where is my oscar. "Oh no worried you are grand" he says. "Oh no I feel so bad , here let me help you" I say again worried as I grab his shirt and a napkin. "Oh no it's ok!" He says again, "oh I feel so bad let me at least make it up to you, here I'll buy you another drink" i say as I try to grab the attention of the bartender again and he looks at my ass again.

"So are you here alone?" I ask

"yes"

"what a shame..no wife or girlfriend?"

"no"

"Me neither, I am new in town, my name is Louise " I lie

"Jim"

"Well nice to meet you jim"

The bartender quickly brings the drinks and the night goes on. And I didn't mean to laugh at his jokes, or get lost in his beautiful blue eyes, or to count each frekle as he comes closer to me, or to allow his large hand to caress my leg, he is charming, that bastard.

And another drink ,he leads me to the elevator, how dare he. And he kisses my neck,and i actually fucking like it. And he brings his large hand to my ass and to my waist and we get in the hotel room and I actually like it but no ,I have to focus.

I quickly push him to the bed, he stumbls backwards as I straddle him, "Oh jim" I say in his ear, "the markings from your wedding ring are still there ,did you wear that ring when you fucked yevvone and that waitress ?" I say ,my voice turns manacing in his ear and he pushes me away "the fuck, how do you" he panics , I stand off him and smirk "how do I what? What did you think will happen this evening" I tilt my head, "that I'll be added to your list of women you exploit " , "you are insane, were you stalking me, who the fuck are you eh'!" he says as he closes his pants quickly. "Oh?" I raise an eyebrow in amusement and reach my purse.

Photographs of him with yevvone splatter across the bed, "with your wife's best friend tsk tsk" and more Photographs I throw straight at his feet "while her husband is in the hospital actively dying too tsk tsk jim" I click my tounge again.

"Who the fuck are you to judge me eh! You are a crazy stalker!" He says angrily now and stands up grabbing his coat "SIT DOWN JIM" I order "sit down or i swear to God ill tie you to that bad" i warn and he does sit down. "So what the fuck do you want, want me to say i am a cheating asshole? OK I am. Is that what you want to hear " he doesn't even look at the photographs "and it's all my fault right? All me! She came on to me ! She asked me to do it! She wanted it too!"

"Oh? Did your wife want it?" I ask in anger and he laughs "you are a private investigator are you?" He runs his fingers through his long hair. "No, no i am a woman who is tired of men like you Jim! Men like you that think that they can just..do this To women. You are a misogynist " I say "and yes hide behind her wanting it, hide behind it. You could have been decent, you took advantage of a woman in a broken marriage, you are the bad thing "

"You are a fucking hypocrite ,you and your little camera and confidence, the fact is you aren't there with yevvone holding her hand ,or with Danielle helping her heal, no you are here ,what happen did daddy leave you and now you decided to crown me the big bad man. You are obsessed with me admit it" he comes closer to me, and god i wish I brought a gun but he comes closer and closer until my back is against the wall "I heard your fight with yevvone in the street that night, did you really hide her husband's condition from her" i say now in a shaky voice, "HE ASKED ME TO, JUST LIKE SHE ASKED ME TO FUCK HER" he yelled and I flinch.

"You misogynistic asshole" i push him away but he grabs me "yes, yes aren't you here to punish me" he says his voice now husky, "go ahead punish me then, you are a big girl right, so smart" he says in my ear ,mocking me. "Go ahead run back to Danielle show her those photographs, break her heart and trust in everyone " he says in my ear , "what" I say in a shaky voice "if you show her this, yevvone ,it will break her more" ,"you bastard " I squirm "I'm just saying the truth and now his voice shakes ,deep down he was scared scared ill do it. Scared of me.

I push him away to the bed and he grabs my hand and I fall to the bed with him, and my god it feels good ,his hands ,my emotions "you are a horrible person " I climb on his lap again "yes" he says again and he grabs my waist "but you are here with me not with Danielle are you" he nips at my neck and I moan "fuck off" I say and he takes off my dress and I quickly take off his belt, he spins me around and pins me to the mattress and scoffs "well go ahead punish me" he brings his head lower to my lace panties and I grab his hair ,he doesn't waste any time putting his tounge to work and I arch my back ,fuck the bastard knows how to please, "fuck" i moan and he brings his head to my ear again "are you gonna be the one to bring me down hm? My wife and kids leaving me isn't enough for you? What more do you need?" He asks as he circles the sensitive spot between my legs, slowly and then roughly ,my body shakes in pleasure as I moan "I...I wanted to.." I gasp ,"hm? What's the plan i can't hear you" he mocks as he circles harder and enters a finger ,I moan more and whimper "fuck off" I say in his ear "i rather fuck you" he says "your little feminist crusade ,spending days stalking me ,obsessive little girl" ,I grab his hair "just admit you want me" he applies more pressure "I want to destroy you jim" I confess between moans.

"Oh how is that going?" He sneers and I manage to over power him just for a moment as I climb to his lap, the hardness in his pants poking at me as I take them off ,releasing his cock, he moans in relief as I slowly lower myself on it and he moans grabbing my hips ,I shake as I look at the floor at all the photographs and he sits up and grabs my hair roughly moving my head from them, and thrusts his hips deeper, harder and I moan again "look at you a feminist moaning on my cock" he teases, "I'll cut it off in your sleep" I say and he laughs thrusting deeper "it's gonna be really embarrassing for you if you come right now" he smirks and thrust again as my body shakes in pleasure and I arch my back ,giving him access to my breasts and nipples, I gasp as he circles his tongue on them.

It's strange how a moment of clarity is all it takes as I remove myself from him, just a moment before his orgasm and my own as I get off his cock "this is wrong" I pant ,his blue eyes become darker with lust "yes, very" he admits , "come back here" he orders , "no we can't...we can't " i pant "Danielle " ,"Oh fuck off" he says now annoyed as he grabs me roughly causing me to gasp ,he quickly over powers me ,entering me again,this time roughly "the only name you need to be saying right now is mine, scream it in fact" , I squirm more as he pins me down and enters,deeper ,rougher ,I gasp and moan for mercy, but my god it feels way too good to ask him to stop, I pretend to fight him off ,fuck him, he is good, I moan and arch as I give up and grab his back, scratching it as he rocks his hips and the orgasm washes over me and him immediately and I see stars . "You bastard " I say without breath as he lays his head on my breasts and plays with my nipple lazily ,I look at the ceiling panting.

"Fuck " I say softly and he starts kissing my body again ,going south again ,using his tounge in the right spot and I grab his hair again between my legs.

This will be a long night.

[yuukei-yikes]

idr if ive sent an ask like this before but. im sending it again if so.

forever thinking about how shintaro lost all three of his only friends on the same day. the anniversary of his dad dying, too.

so yeah. while he is extremely cringefail. i would shut myself in for four years too if that happened to me. like understandable have a nice day.

shintaro goes thru the horrors and we should talk about that more. like almost every route, on or near the anniversary of his dad and three of his only friends dying, he has to like. we all know it varies on who dies but in general he has to witness at least some of his new friends die.

paired with retaining. top ten characters that go thru it. shintaro wouldnt be number one bc hibiya and kano but hed be like. number three? i guess?

deciding on Who suffers more is a little pointless because it feels kind of bad to be like so what's worse? pretending to be your sister's corpse or a timeloop of 10 years? Like both are bad

however ur so right. shintaro is my little meow meow cringe fail idiot prince. something i love about kagepro and i think it's genuinely really well done is the representation of mental health. shintaro loses all 3 of his friends in one day, of course he's going to react like this. he's even under the impression one of them killed herself directly because of him. this guy's a messssss. iirc, in the novels at one point he even says why was i the only one left? so he definitely also had a bit of survivor's guilt there as well. tbh i think everyone in the dan had some survivor's guilt in regards to the person they died with. why was i chosen and not them? cause in kido's pov it also sounds like that when talking abt rin.

anywaysss. so shintaro is a funny guy. depressed king and with reasons to be sad and traumatized, he's got a strong sense of justice and always acts on what he thinks is right. it's funny that he's also so painfully awkward and anxious, but i think the whole beginning arc of kagepro really tells u who he is. shintaro is shown not being able to even TALK to customer service employees, cause he mumbles everything and stumbles over his words, yet like an hour later he's YELLING AT AN ARMED ROBBER THATS GRABBING HIM BY THE NECK. BOY WHAT😭 shintaro's principles always coming on top of anything else he might be feeling is awesome. it shows again in novel 7 when he's kinda awesome and smooth facing saeru and right after falls to his knees bc mary and kido said it wasn't That cool.

and this is all without mentioning retaining eyes. bro post str shintaro. what a delight. i love him. i wrote a stupid shintaro&takane fanfic once where i sorta go into it of how weird it is for him to live past That august, with everything he knows now. if u care here's a link *kicks rock*

shintaro is already pretty self centered as is. but i think very early on post str, now that retaining has been activated, all the routes bleed together and makes him very confused. and this time forever because retaining has been activated and he's. going to be alive from now on. no more resets. so he HAS to deal with it.

a genius or not, a human brain isn't Made to hold onto different memories of different lifetimes like this, so i think post str shintaro can't help being insensitive to others (in that fanfic i wrote, shintaro realizes him and takane in this final route never talked about her as ene, so while to him it was normal bc of retaining, she was still needing some closure on it)

and now ill mention my kagefuture bullshit SORRY!!! SORRY!!! idk if u even read my fancomic but basically shintaro is acting a little stupid in there. like acting without thinking stupid. i find it very fun to imagine an older shintaro doing that because he's spent so much time Stressing about what's happening and what's going to happen because it's finally different from other routes and that's scary, that to get to the point where he's a little more chill about it, it's inadvertently accomplished by Not Thinking. i like to imagine him living day to day without thinking of what will happen later because if he does that he'll spiral. so he sort of ends up in these weird situations like man. how did i not see this one coming

[sturniololuvz]

Can you do one where the triplets go shopping with their little sister and she tries on clothes but she’s put on weight so her normal size doesn’t fit her and she goes in a bad mood and gets really sad but the triplets try to cheer her up?

“It’s Just a Number”

“Alright, this is the last store,” Chris said, holding open the door to the boutique. “After this, I’m getting food. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Matt muttered, already heading for a couch near the dressing rooms.

Y/N walked a few steps behind them, holding two pairs of jeans and a cute crop top. She had been quiet the whole time, even when she found stuff she liked. Nick noticed but didn’t say anything yet.

“Let me know if you need help grabbing a different size,” a worker told her kindly.

Y/N nodded and slipped into the fitting room.

She tried the jeans first.

And they didn’t fit.

Not just a little snug — barely-past-her-thighs didn’t fit.

She stared at herself in the mirror, heart sinking. The top didn’t sit right either. Her reflection felt unfamiliar. Like someone else was staring back at her.

She blinked quickly, fighting the sting in her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Out in the waiting area, Nick glanced toward the fitting rooms again. “She’s been in there a while.”

Chris looked up from his phone. “Maybe she’s taking her time?”

But then they heard it. A sniff. Barely audible. Then the sound of the lock clicking.

Y/N stepped out, eyes glossy, holding the clothes in a messy pile.

Matt stood immediately. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

She tried to walk past them, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

Nick gently caught her elbow. “Y/N, c’mon.”

She stopped. Shoulders hunched. Voice small.

“They didn’t fit.”

The boys were silent for a moment.

Y/N kept talking — like if she didn’t, she’d fall apart. “I grabbed my usual size, and they didn’t even go up. And the shirt looks dumb, and I— I guess I’ve just gotten… bigger.”

Chris stepped forward, brows furrowed. “Okay, first of all, you didn’t get bigger. You’re growing. It’s called being human.”

Matt added, “And clothes? They’re made to fit brands, not people.”

Nick leaned down to her level. “Listen. A number on a tag doesn’t mean anything. You could wear three different sizes in three different stores. Doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you.”

Y/N looked down, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. “I just… feel gross.”

Chris gave her a look. “Don’t ever say that. Your body is doing what it’s supposed to do. Growing. Changing. That’s not gross. That’s strong.”

Matt gave her a one-armed hug. “And you’re literally our favorite person. Even when you’re moody.”

Nick smiled softly. “Especially then.”

Y/N laughed through her sniffle.

Chris pulled a hoodie off a nearby rack. “Try this on. Oversized. Soft. Can’t go wrong.”

She slipped it on and looked in the mirror. It swallowed her a little — but it felt good. Safe.

“You look cool as hell,” Matt said, already pulling out his wallet. “We’re getting it.”

Y/N gave a soft smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Chris tossed an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got us forever. No matter what size you wear.”

Nick added, “Now let’s get food before Chris turns feral.”

⸻

[homosexual-fast-dancer]

I am saving up money for a *very* special purchase :3

[mrmeepsmadmind]

i love when ppl draw bumblebee like the happy little creachure he is but also i love when people draw bumblebee like he's had 500 beers in the last 1 hour and still the pain won't even ebb

[gravitycoill]

some homestar runner doodles

[moeblob]

Erin, to her crush: You're a dick

Mason, the crush: I won't argue! But to clarify -

[4giorno]

dealing with my post game depression by celebrating that i finally have enough fave screenshots of my beloved character to make a 3x3

[hauntingblue]

Caesar needs to be tried for war crimes no only being beaten by luffy. We need actual legal repercussions here and impel down is not enough

[stunie]

“NEEDIN’ A RIDE REAL, REAL BAD!!”

HAIKYUU + THIGH RIDING ᯓ⭑ ft. bokuto koutarou, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsurou, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi, & ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

contains : explicit smut (18+), thigh riding / dry humping, phone call (keep quiet n ride!), risky sex / very mild: cw exhibitionism, squirting, teasing, praise, kissing <3, hair pulling (you to them), orgasm denial, usage of pet names — 2.9K WC

note : yayya my first haikyuu post on here ! this is my response to this thirst here ૮꒰˶˃ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა hope u all have fun reading this <3

KUROO TETSUROU.

“Whoa whoa,” Kuroo coos through a breathy chuckle, big hand wrapping around your hip to hold you still against his thigh. “Easy now, pretty thing. Let’s pause for a second, okay?”

The sound of your protests and whines almost make him cave right off the bat. “…Tetsu..” you sulk, corners of your lips curling into a sad pout even when he gives you an apologetic smile before he’s jutting his thumb to gesture at his phone, the irritating melody of his ringtone repeating itself as the screen lights up, “Incoming call from: Kenma!” displayed across the top.

“Sorryy,” he huffs. “Can’t. This one’s important.”

He’s giving you a reassuring squeeze around your hip, a silent reminder that he’ll give you everything you need in a few minutes, but you’re not having any of that. Your arms come to stubbornly wrap around his neck before he can pick up the call, sugar sweet voice already making pleas only a second later.

On any other given day, you would have let him take the call with only an irritated huff— just not today. Not with the way you can already feel your orgasm running away from you. “P-please, please Tetsu,” you sob, “I was so close. Can’t wait any longer.. please?”

His eyes are widening a bit at the unfamiliar desperation in your voice, grunt slipping out when his cock reacts to it too, twitching and slapping against his stomach— a reoccurring habit that seems to only occur whenever you give him that needy little look of yours.

“Awww,” he whispers, and you barely catch the strain in his voice. “Well I’m sorry for ruining your moment, angel.”

You’re practically purring as soon as you feel his hand come to lightly cup your jaw, immediately melting into his touch as he smiles in response. “Ah— fine,” Kuroo caves as soon as he sees your hands coming to cutely hold his wrist in place. “Guess i can’t stop you if you need it so bad. But listen here..”

His thumb moves from your jaw, digit pressing into your bottom lip to angle your face at him. The look you’re giving him is just to die for, pouty lips soft against his thumb and you’re peering up at him through those pleady eyes— as if there was even a single chance that Kuroo would ever deny his pretty girl of an orgasm in the first place.

“Nothing crazy. Deal? Kenma hears and..” he presses a little harder into your lip, watching the way your tongue comes to swipe at the invasive finger. “Me and you? Are never hearing the end of it.”

You’re swiftly nodding as soon as the words register, hands coming to rest on the muscles of his shoulders as you resume your movement the next second, gasping at the way your clit catches against his thigh. “Kenma?” You hear him hum, tucking his phone between his cheek and shoulder— quick and casual.

Maybe too casual.

“Mmm,” his eyes flicker back towards you when you take in a sharp inhale. “So it’s about that. You sure you don’t wanna meet up to go over it?”

A loud gasp slips out from you when he abruptly grabs you by your waist, and your hands slam over your mouth, Kuroo tensing beneath you. “…Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” He chuckles, regaining his composure in an instant as he starts to rock you back and forth against his leg— and fast.

The roughness has your face contorting, nails digging deep into his shoulders as you try and resist the strong hands guiding you back and forth— try and slow him down a bit, delay your oncoming orgasm by even second if anything at all. You hadn’t expected it to come back so fast, and.. you both knew good and well that you weren’t gonna be able to stay quiet.

You give him a look, something resembling your best attempt at a glare, but he’s ignoring it— casually chatting with kenma about something you can’t quite catch. You’re only left to bite your lip, eyebrows deeply furrowed as you desperately fight the knot tightening inside your belly, thighs clamping against his own as he flexes his quad straight into you.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, hand leaving your waist to pick up his phone again, finger hovering over the ‘mute’ button, and your body is falling limp onto his chest, hands balancing yourself on him as you peer up at him through tired eyes and a heavy pant. “Actually..”

“..Looks like I got a bit of a problem to take care of here first.” He smiles. “So give me a minute, yeah?”

MIYA ATSUMU.

“Gonna have to keep that pretty voice of yours down.” Atsumu’s lips brush against the shell of your ear, big hands tight around your hips as he drags you up and down his thigh. “Or ‘Samu’s gonna hear ya.”

Your hips stutter against his leg, drawing a sharp gasp from you- and he curses under his breath. Osamu would be back any second now, and yet he’s got you seated on him, your lounge shorts pulled to the side so he can draw one quick orgasm out of you before the three of you head out for dinner.

Because you— Atsumu’s impatient lil bunny, or so he calls you, just couldn’t wait until after the dinner to get a quick treat.

“‘M trying.” You whisper, voice breathless and whiny, and you tighten your embrace around his middle, burying your face deep into the fabric of his sweater. “Feels ‘s good… so good— need more..”

“I know, I know— later, yeah?” He sounds unsteady from how roughly he’s moving you against him, muscles of his thigh flexing and hardening underneath you. “Gonna give it to ya real good. stuff ya nice and full. How’s that sound, dirty girl?”

You want that.

You know exactly how easy it’d be for him to get you gushing underneath his cock if it weren’t for your insistence on him not cumming. And well.. it kind of made sense to him— considering how your last creampie went. His mind thinks back to how you looked with his cum dribbling down your thighs as you nervously clamped them together, and how no one seemed to noticed the juices dripping into a neat little puddle beneath you.

It’d be so easy— he’s got you all mapped out and knows you like the back of his hand. He could just push those pretty thighs of yours up to your face, hold them nice and still as he pummels the deep spot inside you that has you chanting his name over and over, and your cunt would be gushing right after that.

“‘Tsumu.” You choke out, tightly latching onto him like a koala, “‘M gonna cum..!”

“You are, aren’t ya? I can tell.” He groans, and his thigh bounces up into you, mumbling a curse under his breath when you squeal at the roughness. “Show me that pretty face when you’re lettin’ go.”

A couple more rolls of your hips and you’re gasping and stuttering against him, Atsumu pulling you just right against his thigh as your eyes slam shut, knot inside you violently snapping in an instant as you tremble underneath him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” His voice comes out deep and breathy, hands tightening their grip on you. “Ride it all out f’ me, rela- oh s-shit.”

Your eyes widen as soon as the sound of footsteps registers in your mind, and your head swiftly turns back to see that Atsumu’s already pulling your shorts back over your cunt, your juices immediately soaking through the fabric as he holds you flush against his chest, big hand cradling the back of your head.

“‘Tsumu..!” You whisper, but he’s shushing you with gentle strokes along the back of your head.

“What, ‘Samu?” he calls out, his mind putting together a silent prayer that his twin was not about to open the door.

His prayers go unanswered.

“You two ready yet?” Osamu’s asking as soon as he flings open the door, the knob accidentally slipping through his grasp, and your door crashes against your wall with a loud thud a second later.

You faintly hear him mutter an “oops” before his eyes are finally falling on you, brow raising at the sight of you clinging tightly onto atsumu as your chest heaves up and down.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

“What?” you can feel your concentration falter as soon as the sound of Sakusa’s voice reaches you, and you’re immediately wiping at the frustrated tears that have begun to collect along your lashes. “Can’t cum like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, and he doesn’t miss the slight tremble to your lips. Cute.

Sakusa had his doubts about this idea of yours from the start. He knows how needy you always get— knows that despite that innocent face of yours, your cunt’s anything but. It’s greedy. Something like this was probably not gonna be able to get you to finish, and he knew that.. but a part of him was just curious.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was to see you this frustrated. Your chest is rising up and down with each angry pant, arm coming to rub at your nose from the occasional sniffle after being denied orgasm after orgasm.

And him? he’s never felt such a strong ache before. The dark spot on his shorts are a tell-tale sign that he’s been leaking with pre-cum, and he can practically feel it starting to drip down his cock. Neither of you were doing so well, and if he was being honest, he’s on the verge of flipping you over and putting you in a mating press— but the small voice inside him wants to see you come undone on his thighs. Badly.

He’s just gotta see how you look.

“Need your cock, Omi.” You mumble, rising onto your knees to scoot further up, but he’s stopping you only a second later. “Omi? Why..?”

“No.” he says flatly. “You don’t.”

“I do!” You’re protesting immediately after, hands balancing on his shoulders. “Can’t finish without it— ah!”

You yelp when he’s roughly pulling you back down, his quad flexing as soon as your cunt makes contact with his leg. The hands around your hips are tight, and Sakusa’s setting a rhythm only a moment later, keeping the muscles of his legs firm and flexed to better rub against your clit.

“W-wait!” You’re stammering, whining straight into his ear as you frantically latch onto him. He lets you bury your face into the crook of his neck as he works you closer to your high, forcing you into a mind-numbing pace to have you flying right off the edge in a few more seconds.

“You can— don’t fight it.” His voice comes out as a deep grunt, a result of his dragged out attempts at ignoring the borderline painful throb of his cock, and oh- he was so going to take you in a mating press after this. The second you’re finished gushing, he was gonna flip you over and finally rid himself this irritating ache.

“Omi!” You sob, eyes clenching shut as your hips start to stutter, and he can feel you trembling underneath his hands. “Omi.. O-omi— ‘m close!” He only responds by roughly pressing his thigh up against you, thick muscle hitting your clit just right as you choke out a scream, finally gushing all over his thighs.

“See?” He exhales, breath hitching in his throat when your nails dig deep into his back, his hands slowly moving you up and down to ride out your high.

“You can.”

DAICHI SAWAMURA.

“Feeling good, huh? Don’t try to fight it.”

Daichi grunts when you tug at his hair a little harder, face buried deep into his front as you desperately hump his leg. He’s gentle with you, strong hands guiding you up and down his leg, but he’d be lying if he said his patience wasn’t starting to wear thin.

The sweet nothings he’s been whispering into your ear this entire time are starting to sound a lot less like cooing and a lot more like grunting.

He couldn’t help it. He can feel you so so vividly, feel your juices dripping down the sides of his thigh and hear you moaning straight into his chest. You were soaked through and through, and it’s taking everything in him to stay patient and let you have this.

“There you go.” He’s praising you when you grind against him particularly hard, ignoring the way his shorts are feeling painfully tight around his cock. “Just like that— move exactly like that.”

“Daichi,” you whine. “‘M getting so close— feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He exhales deeply, and the way his cock twitches suddenly has him groaning, hands squeezing a bit too hard against your hips as you wince. “Daichi..?”

“Oops, sorry princess.” He’s clenching his jaw, giving you a weak smile as you wrap your arms around him. “That’s my bad. Don’t mind me, okay? Just.. worry about yourself— this is all about you right now.”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

You weren’t as subtle as you thought.

His legs just looked so strong, so perfect to sit on, and you couldn’t help yourself. He didn’t seem to think too much of it when you first sat a little lower than you usually did, straddling his mid thigh as he flipped through another manga that Tendou had lent him earlier that week.

Just subtle movements up and down his thigh was your original plan, but it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

“What are you doing?” Ushijima’s voice has you jolting from where you’re seated on his left thigh, his gaze now on you and the way you’re frantically waving your arms around in defense, barely able to stammer out a “N-nothing!”

You just barely catch the way his eyebrow raises in suspicion. It has you moving off him the next second, but he’s tossing aside the manga, big and strong hands easily wrapping around your hips to keep you planted on him.

“Don’t leave yet.” He says, stern and flat, but you catch the hint of curiosity swirling deep in his eyes.

The familiar heat of embarrassment is flooding to your face in an instant, and your head hangs low. “S-sorry, Toshi.” You mumble, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Your thighs just looked so big, just wanted to… ride them.”

It’s silent.

You work up the courage to snack a glance at him again, now faced with the sight of his head tilted a bit, as if confused by your confession. “B-but!” You continue, mouth already running off on its own. “Forget it, okay? It might be weird— Toshi..?”

It was just one little flex of his quad, one that had the muscle pushing up against your clit, but the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded sinful. You can feel his grip around your hips tightening a bit, and he’s leaning in to close the gap between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t it feel better like this?”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU.

It started off with an accidental brush of his knee against your cunt.

Bokuto had always been eager with his kisses. He had you pinned down on his mattress, body hovering over yours as he moved his lips against your own— and he hadn’t even noticed anything different until he heard you suddenly moan into his mouth. He’s pulling away the next second, eyes wide as he tries gauging your reaction again, bringing his knee back to rub over your cunt. And … just like clockwork, your eyes clench shut and you choke back a gasp.

He swallows thickly.

Only five minutes later and he’s got you seated on his thigh, moving you back and forth with a needy grunt, his free hand squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Don’t look away, ‘kay?”

“You look pretty— pretty like that. I just wanna see.”

The look on his face isn’t much different from yours. His mouth is slightly parted in desperate pants, deep red spreading across his cheeks at the sight of you feeling good on his leg. He’s swallowing deeply before he takes in a sharp inhale right after, already pussy drunk and his dick hasn’t even touched you yet.

The way your face starts to contort when you’re rapidly approaching your high has him just hoping he doesn’t end up finishing untouched. It’s throbbing— absolutely aching with need and as soon as you start sobbing his name, he can feel his patience shatter into thin pieces.

You let out a loud yelp as soon as your back hits the mattress, Bokuto looming over you with a strained look on his face as he rushes to line his tip up with your hole. “S-sorry.” His voice is just above a growl. “I can’t help it after all. It’s okay though, right? Gonna make you feel good.”

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[suksatoru]

sukuna and you got into a fight after you had a near death experience. when you're in need of comfort—he's hostile and enraged. you're hurt tenfold and overcome with sadness after his outburst. going to bed after fighting with sukuna is a war all in itself–but one day, you'll be able to see just how hard he works to be a good lover to you. pairing: sukunaxfem!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Sukuna is silent as he changes, save for the quiet grunts and sighs that leave his lips every now and then. The dim lamp lit on his side of the bed creates shards of gold that glisten and shine in his eyes, and he regards you quietly as he slips out of his formal robes and into a simple pair of pants.

He could be so mean sometimes. You were never one to take his insults to heart, they were always empty words he muttered out to mask his true feelings. You know Sukuna is bad at communication, you are all he's had and ever will have. There was no one before you, and there will be no one after you. So, Sukuna has to learn to go through all the hard stages that come packaged with a relationship alongside you.

Your back is turned to him as you lay in bed, your body tense and shoved so far towards the edge of the bed, he's sure you'll fall off if you shift even just the slightest bit. You're so desperate to stay away from him, and a small part of Sukuna's chest squeezes painfully at the sight.

He doesn't know how the argument started—you were always so level headed. He could come to you fuming, enraged from his duties and the stress he has to endure everyday—but your fingers raking through the pink tufts of his hair never failed to calm him.

Except today.

Because today—today he was mad at you.

You didn't mean to upset him, those were the words that tumbled from your lips as you weeped into his lap—begging for forgiveness. Your lashes clumped together with glistening tears, and all you wanted was to be comforted by him. But Sukuna scolded you instead, berating and belittling you with the cruelest of words that only made you cry harder by the end of the entire ordeal. He wasn't mad, he was fucking furious.

He told you to stay away from his estate's river whenever it's raining. But you ventured outside anyways, mindlessly and stupidly and almost died. He warned you how strong the currents were, told you how he'd lost so many idiot servants to the river's ruthlessness.

He thought you had died. It was the single, most terrifying moment of his entire life. Because when he pulled you out of the water, you were shaking like a leaf and your pulse was barely there. And when they took you to the medical wing, the doctors were brought to near tears as they tried to keep you alive. Because if you died, if they couldn't bring you back to consciousness safely—then Sukuna would probably kill everyone in a mile radius just from pure rage.

But you're here. Stubborn and alive, arms crossed over your chest as you curl up into a little ball. He slides under the blanket eventually, turning off the lamp as darkness finally envelops his room. The rain still goes on quietly outside, pitter pattering against his window softly.

He presses his lips onto your shoulder blades, pulling your back against his chest and frowning a little once he feels how stiff you are in his grasp. He doesn't want to speak the words—doesn't even want to acknowledge them, but he knows he has to. Or your tear stricken face was sure to haunt him and keep him awake the entire night

His lips are rough against your skin, and you let out a huff—before elbowing him, the King of Curses, in the gut.

He sucks in a hiss from between his teeth, before biting down on your shoulder in retaliation as you yelp

"You bast–"

You're turning around to tell him off, brows scrunched together and lips pulled back in a wobbly scowl, and he takes the opportunity to shut you up when his lips collide with yours

You would have expected the kiss to be rough—angry and hard and mean. But his lips brush yours gently as you pause, before his warm mouth presses softly onto yours

Sorry. He mumbles the word quietly against your lips as he wraps a single arm around your waist, turning you around and over him before securing you on top of his chest with a deep sigh. His irises are lined with a ring of ruby, and you watch him gaze at you through half lidded eyes.

The moonlight barely illuminates his face, but you can see the sheen in his gaze as he peers up at you

Thought I lost you. He murmurs when you suck in a cry, and he rubs your back whispering I know, I know.

Ryomen Sukuna wasn't gentle, no one would describe him as gentle. But the manner he's rubbing your back in has you sinking into his skin as you soak up all the comfort he offered—the one you so desperately craved.

"It was so scary. I-I was just—" And you hiccup on a sob as he coos quietly, curling his large palm around the back of your head as he presses your face into his chest, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair as his hand rubs up and down the slope of your spine

" 'm here now. Rest, you're safe with me. You know that, don't you?" He questions, and you nod, sniffling as your small hands wrap around his neck, legs locking around his waist as you breathe him in.

No, he wasn't the best at managing his emotions. He was quick to anger, and, simply put, the biggest asshole to walk the earth. But he feels. He loves and he hurts and he knows that there is only one person who can accept him and his broken heart as it is—you.

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid��as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki.