#why the hell is bj hitting on a child. and why does the child look kinda into it. WHAT IS THIS! WHO WROTE THIS!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remyfire · 1 year

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Thigh riding - PEG/TRAP, PEG/TRAP, PEG/TRAP

Kink Writing Prompts (AAAAAAAA THEM) (Trappeg, my favorite pokemon name. Set against the background of BJ/Peg/Hawk and Peg/Hawk/Trap, because BJ is........the way he is. For now.)

Honestly, if Hunnicutt's gonna be spending all his time whisking Hawk away to God knows where every time John puts a hickey on his neck, he really can't blame John for filling the empty hours by spending time with Peg. John's got no clue how long Hunnicutt's gonna circle him like a fucking shark either, but one day the guy has to learn how to use his words instead of just staring John down like he's trying to shoot lasers through him.

There's a few things that are true. One, Hawkeye lives here in California. Two, it's because Hunnicutt had the balls to go after Hawk when he had the chance. Three, John still saw him first, so Hunnicutt's gonna have to learn how to share eventually. Four, Peg's the only reason Hunnicutt's behaving himself in the first place.

And five...it's honestly really fucking funny to watch Hunnicutt spin in circles like a dog on a leash and try to figure out how he can reclaim Hawk and Peg from John's affections at the same time without also leaving the door open to be scolded for being such a possessive little shit.

He's sure Hunnicutt wouldn't say it, but with Peg, John's been gentle as hell this whole time. It's fascinating to see this electric woman who runs a household, gets her hands dirty, mothers a child with the confidence she could only gain from having to raise her without a lick of help, and takes her fellows to task when they're being unfair get so flustered when she ends up alone with John.

It's not even like he's been chasing her skirt since he got here or anything either. If Hawk treated John with uncertainty from the moment he hit the doorstep and Hunnicutt offered him barely concealed hostility, Peg's been the only one who welcomed him in with unabashed kindness. He still has no idea why. Maybe she understood the nerves right behind his gaze when he walked through their door with nothing more than a suitcase, a desire to make amends with Hawk, and an uncertain timeframe. Maybe she saw the pale band of skin on his left ring finger and drew her own conclusions. Maybe she's just good without any expectations.

Whatever it is, she gave him a soft place to land. And the trouble with that is she made him feel safe enough to start to wonder what went on behind those pretty eyes of hers.

Lucky for him, she seems curious too. Even if she does turn red at the drop of a hat nowadays.

Tonight, the little tyke's off at her aunt's down the street—a monthly gift she apparently started up once Hunnicutt got drafted to give Peggy a night to herself once and a while. Dinner's done. The dishes have been cleaned and dried. And from upstairs, if John turns his head just so, he can catch the edge of Hawkeye's particularly overwhelmed moans, probably from a bedroom door left open intentionally. John's still getting used to what act brings what sounds out of his lover, but if he had to guess...

He leans into the doorframe that divides the dining room from the living room, watching Peg watch the stairs with her hands tucked against the small of her back. His lips quirk. "Whaddya think?" he asks, going on even as Peg spins around to look at him with wide eyes. "On his hands and knees? Hair pulled back from behind?"

There it is, the flush. It tickles over her pale skin, starts making its way down her neck. She hesitates before a slow smile blooms. "If I had to guess, I'd say BJ's not letting him let go."

"Oof." John winces as he saunters further in. "That's a tough one. He begs so pretty."

"He does," Peg agrees with a chuckle. "The magic number with BJ's three. He'll get him right there to the edge, back him off again, really make him fight for it. He'll act like he's going to make him wait longer, but...no. Three times."

It took him a while to let himself reach for her. It's a hell of a lot easier now. He shapes his hand around her hip. "How long do you make Hunnicutt wait for it?"

"As long as I want," she murmurs.

John laughs. He coaxes her to turn and face him, then leans far down to steal a kiss from her pretty mouth. "Come sit with me," he whispers.

Peg nods, biting her bottom lip. "All right."

It's been a lovely dance, seeing what Peg's ready to let him have, what she's still shy about giving. He wishes he could break open her layers and really brush his fingers over each one, understand what makes her tick like this. He's watched her kiss her husband. She isn't afraid to attack his mouth with all the hunger of the sea, like there's been waves churning in her for years while he was gone that she's still catching up to. And with how happily and easily Hawkeye bends for just about anyone, it's not surprising to John that Peg'll take him with just as much confidence.

But he also knows the nervousness in her touch. The way she'd pull back from those first few kisses with John with a murmured apology. How when he finally worked her confession out of her—that Hunnicutt had been her first, her one, and her only for years, that even Hawk still makes her feel unsteady from how badly she wants him sometimes—she couldn't look him in the eye.

She and John, they've done so little. Cuddling. Kissing. The careful brush of hands over legs, backs, arms. Not for the first time, he wonders if she needs a little nudge to get over her last vestige of shyness, or if the only reason she crossed it with Hawk was from her husband being right there in the same room, reminding her that it was okay to shake apart into her most base urges.

He's not particularly confident in Hunnicutt standing watch while John makes his wife melt, not without either pulling her away in a hungry rush or pushing John down into the sheets with a handful of curls. And while he's not...entirely opposed to the latter, he also can't guarantee it, so...

A nudge it is.

As John sinks down onto the couch, he tugs Peggy right along with him, and she lands beside him with a quiet sound of surprise just before he slips his fingers in her loose blonde hair and pulls her in for a deeper kiss. He keeps the contact intent but gentle, searching and inviting, and as she grabs hold of his shoulders and squeezes them hard enough to ache, he grins against her.

There she is. They both know this part. They've been here often enough together now that he anticipates her sweet whimper, the way she licks at his lips in question so he'll let her in.

Honestly, he half expected her to need a little more warming up, but maybe there's something about the echo of Hawk's pleasure through the hall—tinged for just a moment with a ruddy groan that must belong to Hunnicutt—that makes Peg push in closer so he can wrap his arms around her.

John strokes a slow pattern over the bare part of her neck right above her first buttons, feeling the goosebumps rise to meet his fingertips as she shivers. It'd be easy to push now. But he waits just a little longer. He plays with her tongue so she goes weaker in his arms, finds his pleasure in the taste and heat of her mouth alone.

Only when she shifts into a more comfortable position—her skirt and petticoat rising a little higher as she puts one of her knees between his legs for a better angle—does John tip slightly backward on the couch and slide his knee toward the sky.

The moment his thigh makes contact with the crux between her own does Peg startle, pulling back and catching herself with her hands on his chest. "John," she breathes.

"This okay, honey?" He's so caught by her that his tongue feels thick in his mouth, making the words come out a little slurred even though he hasn't had a drop of booze.

Peg seems stunned to find the position they're in—John almost flat on his back, Peggy straddling his leg. She drags her eyes along his body with a soft, shaky sigh, her fingertips ghosting down his ribs and to his waist.

He'd stirred just from kissing her, but the growing confidence in her touch has him hard enough to ache in seconds. "Fuck, that feels good," he whispers.

"Does it?" She barely gives volume to the words.

He tries it, the nudge. John gently grinds his thigh against her heat, but even with the barrier of her nylons and panties, she makes a stifled sound and curls in on herself.

"How's that?" It's suddenly vitally important that she talk to him, tell him exactly what she needs, even if it's for him to stop. "S'that good too?"

"Mm-hmm..." Peg nods wildly, her hair falling a little more in her face.

That won't do. He needs to see her. He comes up on one elbow so he can push the silky strands out of the way. "You wanna keep going?" John thumbs over her cheek, keeps his voice low. "How 'bout it? We keep kissing. You take what you need. We don't gotta touch nothing you're not ready for. We just have a little fun."

Peg relaxes a little more, starting to pet one hand up and down his waist, her fingers searing him through his thin shirt. "It won't be much fun for you, though, will it?" She peeks down at him through her long lashes, dark from mascara. "If we just...did this?"

John grins so wide, his cheeks hurt. "Sweetheart, if you think I'm not gonna have a fucking blast getting you off like this, you don't know a thing about me. You think this isn't hot as hell? I'm happy to prove it is."

The longer he talks, the more her pupils dilate, thick black orbs overtaking the blue. When John lifts a hand between them and crooks two fingers of invitation, she dives like a bird and kisses him hungrily.

There it is, there it fucking is, he knew this was in her. He lets a little more of his fire meet her in the middle, two tendrils of flame twisting from each of them and feeding each other sharply into the sky. She's still holding back, but there's a whisper in the back of his head that they just jumped twenty steps ahead, far closer to Peggy realizing for once and for all that it's safe to let herself feel like this—to let all those perfect, settled, middle-class, amiable, delicate trappings fall away just like she does with her other fellas.

John takes her firmly by the hips and coaxes her to move, and the moment Peg feels that first long grind against his leg, she whimpers into his mouth. His moan is a ragged reply, wordless and succinct, and she takes the reins and works herself against him intently.

It frees his hands, letting him cup the back of her head in that certain way he's always seen Hawk do. He slips just a little bit under her skirt with the other and strokes his thumb up and down her thigh.

Once she's found her rhythm, the broken sound of pleasure she makes vibrates through him. "Oh, Jesus," she whispers, burying her face in his chest.

The words come pouring out of John, piling on top of each other so she doesn't have time to think. "That's it, that's it, that's my good girl. Can feel how hot you are through all our clothes. I bet you're wet as hell, aren't you?"

Peggy digs up fistfuls of his shirt with a shudder, barely giving voice to what slips out of her. "So good, it's so good..."

"Yeah, c'mon, honey, just like that." He kisses her temple, noses into her hair, fights against everything inside of him to keep his hands right where they are. He lets her chase her pleasure, just serves as the vessel for her to take it from. "Don't you stop. Fuck my thigh good and hard, huh? Wanna feel every inch of that pussy getting some love."

When Peg lifts her head, her swollen lips are parted, her cheeks are flushed, and her brow is drawn up as though she's overwhelmed. "John, please..."

He moves on instinct, hands snapping to grab her hips one more time. "You want me to get you there?"

Peggy nods. "I'm so close, John, I-I—"

"I'm right here." It's been, fuck, probably a decade since he got a girl off like this, all dry humping and sweating in their clothes, and he takes it gently for a second as he shifts his weight to get better leverage—the last thing she needs is to come this far, then have a bad combination of fabric and pressure take her right back down to square one. But he keeps his eyes tight on hers, reading every nuance of her expression and her gasps and the unfathomable depths behind her stare, and as he pulls her back into a focused rhythm, her eyelashes begin to flutter.

It all comes back to him, the utter ease he has with driving a woman out of her mind, and the almost religious reverence that overtakes him in response.

As John smirks, he can feel her starting to shake apart, and he leans in to steal a quick kiss. "That's it, sweetheart, come for me, just like that..."

The sound that breaks from her—a raw moan—is one he'll admit he's jerked off to more than once in the guest bedroom, hearing how Hunnicutt or Hawk will draw it out of her just across the hall. Maybe it's a little weird, thinking of all things in this moment about how trusted he feels right now, that she'll let it erupt from her without a hint of shame because she knows she's safe with him. As she trembles through her release, he pushes her just that bit further, gets instantly inundated with a keening cry as she buries her face in his chest again.

He doesn't take her past that. As Peg shivers like a kitten, he pulls her close and makes sure she feels held, comforted. "Fuck, Peggy," he whispers in between soft kisses on the top of her head. "You know how beautiful you are?"

The sound she makes has no words attached to it—sounds almost pouty that he's making her think at all—and he grins from just how goddamn cute it is.

There's a hint of movement then. He cocks his head to the side until he can see the flash of pale skin and navy blue near the top of the stairs in the other room. It's Hawk in just a cozy pair of boxers, his chin resting on his forearms which are pillowed on the railing, and he's grinning absolutely unrepentantly. For a moment, it feels kind of like old times—one of them catching the other with a girl, giving him a wink at his good fortune.

But there's no war here. There's no fear about blowing Hawkeye a kiss, and Hawk's not shy about catching it in his palm and putting it on his cheek. When Hawkeye holds up his thumb and finger in a circle—the universal okay—John rolls his eyes affectionately and waves him off. Hawk takes the hint, gives Peggy one long fond look of his own before he wanders back up the stairs.

John figures they've only got a few minutes before Hunnicutt comes down, probably freshly showered. Maybe he'll tense up when he sees Peg here sprawled on his chest. Maybe he'll come straight in, pluck her up, and carry her to bed for some snuggles of his own.

Or maybe for fucking once, he'll see that John's not here to steal anybody away. Just looking for his soft place to land. Just finding a reason to keep pushing forward into whatever life looks like now.

"You wanna go somewhere else?" John finally whispers.

"Mm-mm." Peg wiggles her hands around his back until she can finally slide them between him and the couch and cling to him.

John chuckles. "Okay." One more kiss. "You take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere 'til I have to."

#I LOVE YOU WIFE THANK YOU #my writing #mcpunnihawk #trappeg #smutty oneshots #ask meme answers

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dovechim · 5 years

Text

a remedy for mondays 02 (m)

➾ 12.6k

➾ please read part 01 first!!

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: SMUT, risky unprotected sex (pls be safe!), one night stand, oral sex (m&f), cum fetish/ cum eating (m), creampies, public bj, impregnation kink, baby making dirty talk, switch jimin.

➾ a/n: happy monday (at least for me)!!!! the smut is finally here u guys... i feel like im making up for lost time lmaooo ok but real talk there’s a lot more to come in the future. once again, i wanna express my undying love for @jimlingss. without her, half of what's in this fic would not exist c:

love you guys. have a good week ahead 💓

The notifications are pouring in like crazy. Before this you didn’t even realise you had this many friends, but it seems like now everyone wants a piece of the congratulations-pie, everyone wants to share in on your good news.

Your sister has been calling and texting you non-stop to ask when your next checkup is, and if she can come along to see the ultrasound. Your mother has been leaving long, weepy voicemails begging you to call her back.

It’s all just too much, and its Monday again.

“Your performance has been awfully sub-par lately,” your manager sighs as she flips through your report. “I thought we went over this the last time we met? Where’s the analysis for the datasets I gave you last week?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll work harder,” you mumble under your breath, swallowing back the unfairness that tastes bitter in the back of your throat. Even though you’d spent what was remaining of your weekend churning out all the reports, it’s still not enough. Nothing will ever be enough for your slave driver of a manager.

“See that you do. You may go for now,” she dismisses you, and you leave her office.

You plop down at your desk with a heavy sigh, looking at your emails with no real motivation to do anything. Between the pressure at work and the whole mounting scandal of your supposed pregnancy, you are caught between a rock and a hard place. There’s no real solution to any of this. All you have to blame is yourself.

No, actually, your asshole boss is to blame. She sent you a set of painfully incomplete datasets last week, expecting you to get a full analysis out of them. When you wrote back to her that some data was missing, hence making it difficult for you to analyse, she just ignored your email.

Feeling your anger surge through our entire body, you pick up your mug and shove yourself out of your chair, muttering under your breath.

“What the fuck does she want me to do, magic the data out of thin air? Pull the data out of my ass?” Luckily everyone around you is too absorbed in their work to notice that you’re walking around and talking angrily to yourself.

You wash your cup with more vigour than necessary, scrubbing extra hard as you imagine that the surface of your cup is your boss’s face. You get back to your seat and set your cup down, breathing hard both from the exertion and the annoyance.

“I hit 200 mentions this morning,” Park Jimin remarks casually as he drops his briefcase on his desk and sinks into his chair. “I’ve never had this many notifications before.”

You shoot him an annoyed glare. “Not here!”

Gesturing for him to follow you, you scope out an empty meeting room and close the door. He comes in and sits on the desk with his arms crossed.

“So what are we going to-“

“Let’s have a baby.”

Park Jimin gapes at you, and if the situation weren’t this dire, you’d laugh about how someone so handsome can get caught off guard too. You run your eyes over his body, from the way his thighs look thicker as he perches on the edge of the desk, his slim biceps that show through his white dress shirt, and his dashing good looks. Why nothave a baby with Park Jimin? At this point, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to you.

“You’re not thinking straight are you?” Jimin cautions with his hands up, as if trying to ward off a raging, charging bull. “What happened? Did your manager give you hell again? You’re always cranky on Mondays.”

“I’m cranky, am I?” Your voice has a slight edge to it. “I’ll tell you why I’m cranky alright. My sister is texting me every two seconds asking if I’ve set up an appointment with the doctor yet. My mother is calling me every four seconds to tell me what she thinks our baby’s name should be-“

“Wait- really? But you haven’t gotten a single call in the whole time that you’ve been here…”

“I’m not getting a moment’s peace,” you whirl around on him with a slightly manic look on your face, and Park Jimin’s eyes widen even more, and he gulps in fear. “Let’s just have this fucking baby already.”

Jimin knows well enough not to engage someone when they’re in full on panic mode, so he lets you take a few deep breaths before speaking. Over the past few months, he’s grown pretty familiar with what your likes and dislikes are, particularly your preference for drowning your sorrows in alcohol. So maybe the next thing that he suggests is not the most rational, but fuck it, at this point, does it even matter anymore?

“You know what? Let’s ditch work early today and go for drinks.” Jimin watches your expression change immediately, and his heart seizes in relief.

But then a frown crosses your face. “Oh but I can’t, I have that fucking dataset to analyse…”

“Fuck it.” You’re shocked when the expletive leaves his lips; the normally reserved Park Jimin who always does all his work and makes sure to cross his ‘t’s and dot his ‘i’s. “It’s Monday. Who wants to work on a Monday?”

It feels like the two of you are doing something illegal when you lean to the side and catch Park Jimin’s eye at exactly 5pm on the dot. You already decided that leaving at the same time from your seats would be far too inconspicuous, so the plan is for you to pretend to go to the ladies’ washroom, which is in one direction, and for him to leave for the men’s about 10 minutes later, then meet at the taxi stand and hail a cab to get the hell out of this place.

It’s a whole rendezvous, and since you left earlier, you reach the taxi stand first; panting even though you haven’t done that much physical exercise to justify it at all. The minutes are ticking by; any time now any one of your coworkers could walk by and see you waiting for a taxi and immediately know that you’re leaving work early. But it’s even worse still if they happen to catch you and Park Jimin hopping into a cab together, so you only pray that your brainless coworkers are tied to their desks.

Not a second later, Park Jimin appears, his hair ruffled and his eyes shining behind his glasses with mirth. His lips are quirked into an excited smile as he waves down a cab, opens the door for you and gestures you in. The simple act of his, done without much thought at all, actually makes your heart skip a beat as you get in.

You can’t help but obsessively check over your shoulder to see if any of your co-workers just so happen to be around. It’s only when you clear the near vicinity of your workplace that your shoulders sag with relief, and even more so when the cab screeches to a stop, signalling that you’ve arrived. Jimin pays the driver without a word, refusing to accept your money as you clamber out of the cab after him.

It’s not the typical scene you would have found yourself at in your younger days. This bar is a lot more lowkey, the lighting is dim despite the fact that they haven’t even reached happy hour yet. It’s hard to make out anyone’s face inside, and you nearly lose sight of Jimin were it not for the fact that his hand is tightly grasping yours.

“What would you like to start off?” Jimin asks as you reach the bar. He turns to see you struggling to get on the high chair in your skirt and heels, and he reaches to steady the back of the chair so that it doesn’t tip over.

“Shots.” You declare. “I need to get wasted, and fast.”

Giving you a raised eyebrow, but not protesting in the least, Jimin turns to order and in that moment, gives you a really nice glimpse of his side profile. Somewhere along the taxi ride he had taken off his glasses and pushed his hair back, and unbuttoned his dress shirt a little more. You have to tear your eyes away from him when the bartender presents you with a tray of tequila shots with salt decorating the rim, and some finger food to go along with it.

You grab one and he follows suit.

“What should we toast to?” Park Jimin asks.

“To our baby,” you say with a slight laugh, and though you can feel the slightly weird look that the bartender gives you, you don’t really give a fuck. All that matters is that the only other person in here who knows the truth is Park Jimin, and he gives you a shared smile as you clink glasses.

The alcohol burns as it slides down your throat, and you immediately reach for another to chase it down. The tray clears out pretty quickly as Jimin matches you shot for shot, and every time you put down your glass, reality gets further and further away, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So tell me,” Jimin says as he reaches for the ketchup bottle and uncaps it, pulling the bowl of truffle fries closer to him. “Was this always your dream?”

You stop him as he’s about to pour ketchup all over the top of the fries like a savage instead of doing it the normal way, on the side. “Dude, order your own fries if you’re gonna ruin them like that!”

“What, how is that weird? I’ve always done that!”

“You belong in a mental institution,” you fix him with a glare. “Anyway, was whatalways my dream?”

Jimin just shrugs and gives in as he takes a few fries from the bowl to dip, like a civilized person. “This job.”

“Was working at a desk job for 9 hours straight always my dream? Uh, I think not,” you chew on your fries. “Which child ever had a dream like that? Did youhave a dream like that?”

“Me? I wanted to be a policeman,” Jimin grins as he raises his clenched fists. “You know all that idealistic shit children believe in. Making a difference in the world. Catching all the bad guys. Things like that.”

“So you don’t believe in those things anymore?”

“No, I still believe in them,” he raises another shot to his lips and downs it with a grimace. “I just realised that things aren’t so black and white. There are bad guys everywhere, but sometimes you just can’t catch them. Sometimes they’re the ones in positions of power over you and you gotta live like that.”

You reach for another shot, but the tray is empty. Jimin signals the bartender to bring you a second round of drinks; a gin and tonic for you and a coke with vodka for him. The alcohol has your senses buzzing pleasantly, it feels like there’s a disconnect between your brain and your mouth, but you don’t actively object to it either. It feels nice to be able to tell someone things like this.

“I gave up on having a dream long ago. Not everyone is lucky enough to do what they like in life, and I already accepted that I’m not one of those people. And it’s okay.” You turn in your chair so that you are facing Jimin directly, though you have a bit of trouble because it seems like your body is disconnected from your brain.

Jimin helps you with a hand on your thigh that sends shockwaves through your entire body. His daring touch makes your heart speed up, and when he positions your chair so that his thighs are on the outside of yours, you can barely breathe as you look him in the eye. And then he leans forward, slowly, bit by bit, until you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he only takes a whiff of your alcohol laden breath.

“Come on. I should see you home. We still have work tomorrow.” His words brook no resistance as he helps you off the chair with an arm around your waist, and the alcohol seems to have taken effect on you faster than usual today, because you’re only capable of sinking into him, feeling his firm body against yours.

A cab pulls up to the entrance of the bar, and Jimin shields your head as you get into the car, barely having control over your limbs. You mutter your address to the driver, and over the ride home, the bumps and turns actually help you to sober up a little, but then you begin to notice the little things like how Park Jimin’s thighs are actually pretty thick.

And when he stretches forward to pay the driver again, you notice how nice his biceps are.

When he walks in front of you leading you with one hand, you notice how tight his ass looks in his pants.

As he waits for you to unlock your door, you feel his breath on the nape of your neck, and just the feeling of having his body this close to yours is just-

“So um, goodnight, it was fun, I guess,” Park Jimin is stuttering and stumbling over his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “We should do it again sometime. Ditch work, I mean.”

Oh fuck it all to hell, you think to yourself as you grab Park Jimin by the collar and pull him into you, your lips meeting and immediately, you taste the sweetness of the coke on his tongue. Park Jimin lets out an adorable little grunt of surprise, but his hands still wrap around you anyway, one around your waist and the other inching down towards your hip.

“We- shouldn’t be doing this,” Park Jimin pants in between kisses as you bite his lips roughly, and watching them become swollen with your kisses gives you a strange satisfaction that you’ve never experienced with anyone else.

But his rationality is impeded by the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream, but even more so than that, the feel of your soft body against him. So Park Jimin forgets what he was going to say next as you make him walk backwards in the direction of your bedroom.

“But we’re doing it anyway,” you tell him with flushed cheeks, and his hands agree with you as they climb up your body, reaching for the zipper on the side of your skirt.

He pulls your skirt off impatiently, but you won’t let him get away with it so easily as you fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, finally prising them apart to get a good look at his sleek chest muscles and his toned abdomen.

“Shit,” you swear under your breath. “When the fuck did you get those?”

Park Jimin looks smug as he pushes his shirt off his body, feeling his abs tense as you straddle his lap. “What do you mean? I’ve always had these.”

“I thought you were just some skimpy little nerd,” you huff at him in slight annoyance. It’s almost a little rude of him to spring it on you like this, suddenly turning from the computer geek nerd into a hot walking sex god.

“A nerd hot enough for you to have a one-night stand with,” Jimin throws back at you with a proud smirk, and irritated with his sudden overconfidence, you shut him up by grinding against the bulge in the front of his now too tight dress pants.

“That doesn’t count, I was panicking,” you try to defend yourself weakly, but Jimin ignores you in favour of mouthing against your neck, kissing his way down to your bra cups, which he pulls down with his teeth. As if to prove his point that you are having a one-night stand with him right now.

Jimin is fumbling with your bra at the same time you are trying to undo the button of his pants, and the whole affair is desperate; the two of you are half-sober and everything is a blur. All you know is, the next thing his pants are off, his cock is leaking on his stomach, and the desire to take him in your mouth is undeniable.

Your hand grasps him at his base, and he bucks his hips into you immediately, curses falling from his swollen lips. A few good strokes, and then you can’t wait anymore, your lips close around his head and the saltiness of him spreads across your tongue.

“Ahhh, fuck,” Jimin’s hands tangle themselves in your hair. “I- gu-ess we’re not co-workers anymore?”

Your mouth is too full of cock to respond as you sink down on him deeper, loosening your throat as your tongue teases the underside of him. Saliva is already dripping from the corners of your mouth to run down your chin, and you belatedly realise that your bra is still on; Jimin hadn’t managed to get it off. With one hand you reach behind you and undo the clasp, shrugging the bra off in a single movement as Jimin swears as if he just witnessed a miracle (he’s never actually seen any of the girls he’s been with do this.)

You pull yourself off his cock for a moment to give yourself a breather, resting the head of him against your chin as you look up at him. “Just ask yourself, Park. Would a co-worker be sucking your dick like this?”

And then your mouth is back on him; you feel his hands in your hair and his thighs trembling beneath you. His cock is leaking in your mouth, it is thick in your throat as you bob up and down, the sounds of you choking around his cock are filthy and wet.

“Stop!” Jimin sounds out with a gasp, his abs trembling from the amount of effort it takes him not to blow his load. “It- it’s been a while. I don’t wanna cum yet, please.”

His pleading, whiny voice that’s filled with desperation makes you reconsider. Maybe he isn’t a sex god after all; he just happens to have a good body. You pull away from his cock and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and Jimin pulls you forward to sit on his lap. His cock brushes against your stomach, and he can’t seem to keep his eyes off your breasts.

“Have you even done this before?” You mean it as a joke, but Park Jimin’s eyes widen in panic.

“What?! Of course I have!” He says defensively. “Let me eat you out and I’ll show you.”

He reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but you swat him away impatiently. “That’ll take too long. Just let me ride you and we can both cum.”

You push down your underwear in a single movement, not missing the way his eyes are drawn to how your arousal clings to the material. He helps you situate yourself on him with his hands around your waist, and you grab the base of his cock to start to guide him into you. But then, Park Jimin stops you.

“Make sure you’re wet enough?” He asks as he runs his fingers against your slit, though he pretty much already knows the answer just from seeing how soaked your panties were. He just wants to feel the evidence of your arousal for himself. His fingers come away sticky and soaked.

While Park Jimin is busy marvelling at how wet you are just from sucking his cock, you position the head of his cock at your entrance, and then you sink down slowly onto him. The stretch of him against your walls makes you dig your fingers into his shoulders, and likewise, Park Jimin’s fingers dig themselves into your waist as he moans out your name.

“F-fuck, you’re tight,” Jimin barely manages to get out as you stop with a few more inches to go. “You didn’t answer my question earlier on.”

“What is it?” You grit your teeth as you position yourself on your knees, trying to work yourself into taking his entire cock. It had been a while since you last had dick, let alone one as thick as Park Jimin’s, but you aren’t a quitter by any means.

“We- we aren’t co-workers anymore, huh?” Jimin groans again as you squeeze his cock with your walls.

“For fuck’s sake, Park,” you growl at him as you start bouncing on his cock, each slap satisfying as he bottoms out inside you. “We stopped being co-workers the minute I publicised our one-night stand.”

Your hands are on his chest for better leverage as your hips grind on his cock to get him as deep as possible, alternating between up and down movements and side to side movements. Park Jimin has his hands on your hips to help guide you, but he realises you don’t need guidance, so he just sits back to let himself enjoy the visual spectacle that’s unfolding in front of him. You, with your cheeks flushed and breasts loose and bouncing because of his cock, riding him as if your life depends on it. Jimin looks down to where his cock disappears inside you, where your sweet thighs are flexing and working to get the both of you off. But it’s not quite enough.

“Turn around,” he begs. “Wanna see your ass too.”

“God, you’re so fucking weird, Park,” but you do it anyway, letting his cock slide out of you as you turn around and fold your knees under you so that your back faces him.

Jimin spreads his thighs just enough so that they frame your ass perfectly, his hand pressing against your lower back so that you arch and press your ass against him even more. Then he spreads your cheeks with one hand and guides his cock back into your warm depths with the other, groaning when you push back onto him and sit on his cock fully. Now every time you bounce on his cock, your ass jiggles deliciously, and as an ass man, Jimin appreciates this view so much that he tries his best to take a mental picture of this whole view with his mind.

His cock sliding into your pussy so easily since you’re so wet, the fleshy globes of your ass against his thighs as you fuck yourself back onto his cock.

“I-I’m gonna cum,” he warns you with his cheeks hot and abs tensing.

“Just cum already,” you huff in impatience as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of his already fucked out look, lips swollen and his hands on your ass as his cock twitches inside you.

With your permission, Jimin lets himself go as he feels his balls tense, cock releasing inside your sweet, warm pussy and filling you up all the way with his cum. He continues to watch your ass bounce on his cock to milk him dry of every drop, his hips thrusting upwards in an effort to prolong his pleasure. Once he can feel that he’s given you every drop of cum in his body, he places his hands on your ass and pushes you forward with cheeks spread so he can see how well he filled your pussy.

His softening cock starts to slide out from you, and Jimin can see his cum start to leak from your pussy almost immediately. To your benefit, you are giving him the fucking show of his life as you arch your back and lean forward, guided by his hands as you lower your upper body to the bed.

“Shit, oh fuck it,” Jimin mutters to himself as he pushes himself into a sitting position, then with both hands grasping the back of your thighs, he flips you over till you are on your ass, then pulls you with legs spread closer to him. The sight of your cream filled pussy is just too tempting to resist, and Jimin licks through your soaked folds as he savours your taste mixed with his.

He barely hears you squeak out his name in surprise as he continues to devour your creamed pussy, tongue around your clit in circles and fingers dipping into your cunt to tease out more of his cum from your depths. To his pleasure, his cum leaks from you in an ever steady stream as he eats you out; your thighs are shaking around his head as you cry out your pleasure till you lose track.

When you beg him to stop, thighs quivering from overstimulation and clit raw and abused, he raises his head and gives you a quick kiss to your inner thigh, collapsing onto the bed in pure exhaustion. Post high, you are both wiped out, and that’s how the two of you, who are most certainly notco-workers anymore, fall asleep.

Everything is too bright. And everything hurts, your throat is dry and again, everything hurts. You forget that you aren’t in your prime time anymore; that drinking is a night of fun followed by a morning of regret.

Though this morning, you have a lot more to regret than just alcohol.

You wake up with an alien arm around your waist, and frustrated by the unwanted physical contact, you toss it away with an annoyed grunt. Your elbow strikes out in the same direction, only to hit a solid, warm body beside you, and then your eyes shoot open as you sit straight up in bed.

Only to find a very naked, very passed out Park Jimin sleeping beside you.

“Holy fucking shit,” the realisation of exactly what happened last night hits you, and dread punches you in the stomach.

“Is it morning already?” Park Jimin buries his face into your sheets, his blonde hair sticks out in every direction. “Five more minutes, mom.”

Irritated that he’s yet to come to his senses, you kick his stupid, bubble butt, and he jerks awake, opening his eyes blearily. Once he takes in your expression, he closes them immediately.

“Can’t say that’s the best thing to wake up to in the morning,” Jimin says with his face buried in the sheets again, his voice muffled. “Nothing kills my morning wood faster than-“

“Get the fuck up, Park,” you hiss at him, clutching the sheets to your chest. “Come to your fucking senses!”

At the tone of urgency in your voice, Park Jimin finally shakes himself awake; he blinks slowly until he takes in the whole situation: you and him, supposedly co-workers, waking up together in the same bed, naked.

“Holy fuck, did we just…” Park Jimin glances down at his cock that lies limp against the side of his thigh, and the sticky, dried essence left behind. “Oh my god. We fucked.”

“We arefucked,” you correct him.

It seems as if whoever is running things up in the divine realm really has it out for you. Nursing a hangover as you walk into work, you try your best not to make eye contact with Park Jimin, which is easier said than done considering that he sits right opposite you.

So this is how it feels when two colleagues actuallyhave a one-night stand.

You run a hand through your hair in frustration, unable to focus on any of your tasks this morning.

“Hey, _____- whoa, are you feeling okay?” Kim Taehyung does a double take as he passes by your desk. “You look a little, um… under the weather. You feeling alright? Is it… how’s the baby? How many months are you again?”

Your face only pales even further as he brings up the non-existent baby, and with that, a realisation that the both of you didn’t use protection last night. Park Jimin seems to have arrived at the same realisation, because he makes eye contact with you for the first time that morning as he peeks out the side of his computer.

“I’m- I’m alright,” you manage a forced smile, wanting nothing more than for him to just fuck off already so that you can begin to process all this in peace and figure out exactly how screwed over you are.

“Well, if you say so,” Kim Taehyung says with a doubtful frown. “You know, _____, we actually have really great benefits for mothers. Even unwed mothers. I’d love to sit down and go through them with you one day if you could spare me the time. Wait actually, can I see your baby bump? I always thought they were the cutest-“

“I have to throw up,” you say without hesitation, and you stand up and push past him on your way to the restroom.

It’s not entirely a lie, since you do spend a good ten minutes praying at the porcelain altar, but no one has to know it was because of alcohol intoxication. When you finally flush and then rinse out your mouth at the sink, you open the door of the restroom to find Park Jimin waiting with a worried look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He starts, but then Jeongguk walks by you and shoots you both an admiring look.

“Lovebirds alert!” He sings out in that highly irritating voice of his as he dances down the aisle.

“No, I want to fucking die,” you mutter under your breath as you stare daggers into Jeongguk’s back.

“I need to ask you something,” Park Jimin says urgently as he glances around for any eavesdropping ears. He grasps your hand and tugs you into the nearest meeting room, and once he makes sure that the doors are locked securely, he turns to you again. “We used a condom last night right? We are responsible, working adults. We wouldn’t forget something as basic as that.”

You sink down onto a chair with a glum look on your face. “Impossible. We couldn’t have used a condom. I don’t have any condoms in my house.”

Park Jimin makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. “Well… then, you’re on birth control right?”

“It makes me gain weight like crazy. The only reason why I’m not a balloon right now is because I went off the pill years ago.”

There is a beat of silence as Park Jimin stares at you as if you’re pulling his leg. Then a random thought occurs to you that you could very well still end up being a balloon precisely becauseyou’re not on birth control right now.

“What about Plan B?” Jimin lights up, literally jumping out of his chair as he suggests it. “You could get it right now. I’ll drive you. We can say we’re going to the doctor’s for an appointment or something.”

The sobering reality sets in as you sit there in silence, and Park Jimin is still looking at you, waiting for your response. Only, you don’t quite know how to respond. The rational part of you should be jumping to your feet now and making him rush you to the nearest pharmacy, but then there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that you can’t ignore.

This would solve all your problems.

Park Jimin is still waiting for your response, growing more and more antsy as the minutes tick by.

“Do you know how many people know about this baby?” You finally say.

Those were not the words Park Jimin was expecting to hear, and he does a double take. “Wh- what? What are you talking about?”

“Approximately 265 people,” you continue on, ignoring his cautious look. “Your family, my family, the whole company, my friends, my ex-boyfriend and his new wife-“

“You counted? Why would you do that?” Jimin groans as he runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t have to remind me of how fucked we are and how many people we have to answer to. My Granny dug out my baby clothes from some godforsaken corner in the house and gave them to me last night.”

The mention of Jimin’s Granny fills you with guilt once more, and it makes the tiny voice grow a little louder, and you try to swallow back the awful feeling.

“Exactly. So why don’t we just… leave this up to chance. Just this once.” You keep glancing at Jimin to gauge his reaction, but the blonde haired man only stares back at you with the same serious expression on his face. “Plan B wouldn’t have worked anyway. I already ovulated this month.”

“Shit,” Jimin sighs as he collapses down into a chair. “So there’s an actual chance? That you could be pregnant right now? But I… I ate you out. Maybe I got most of it out from you.”

The both of you know that Jimin is simply grasping at straws now.

You just shrug silently as Jimin takes some time to let the reality of the situation sink in. Just then, your phone buzzes and you open the text from your sister who’s asking if she can accompany you to your ultrasounds. You groan audibly, and Jimin takes a peek over at your phone screen.

“Just this once,” he says, as if he’s really considering it as he watches the messages from your sister flood your screen. “But… will you be okay? If it really does happen, I mean. Are you okay with that?”

“I mean, I hate kids and all, if that’s what you’re asking.” You lock your phone and put it face down on the desk just so you don’t have to deal with that for a hot second. “But that aside, if it’s a cute kid, I guess I don’t mind. I mean… if the kid looked like you. I guess I don’t mind.”

You don’t know why it’s taking you so long to say what you really mean. It’s not like you to beat around the bushes like this, nor is it like you to be tripping over your own words like an idiot. But the gist of it still gets through anyway, by the look on Park Jimin’s face.

“I… I guess I wouldn’t mind either. Kids are cute.” Jimin says hesitantly, eyes constantly darting away from yours. “I mean, I’mcute. Obviously my kids would be cute.”

“Um. Okay then,” you say awkwardly, getting up and skirting around him to get to the door. “I guess… um… so… I’ll let you know. If anything happens.”

Jimin gets up with a resolute look on his face as he follows you to the door. “Yeah. Sure.”

The next Monday, everyone is off work for the afternoon because it’s the quarterly Healthy Lifestyle Day, where a poll is sent out to everyone to vote for the healthy bonding activity that their team should engage in. In actual fact, the poll is a scam since bowling wins every time, all because it’s well known that Bae Joohyun’s favourite pastime is bowling.

You endure the awful scents of sweat as you squeeze into your awful rented bowling shoes, grimace as you cram your fingers into the holes on the bowling ball, try not too hard to embarrass yourself as you bowl gutter after gutter. Your back is aching, face is sweaty and you are straight up not having a good time.

Bae Joohyun, on the other hand, is nailing strike after strike in her own lane, with her team of personal cheerleaders making a huge fuss every time she finishes her round. Those are the very group of people who are aiming for a promotion that year; the rest of you are just kind of milling about the other lanes and pretending to enjoy yourself.

You finish your round and plop down on the seat with a sigh, watching as Jeon Jeongguk takes his turn after you with a flourish as he launches his ball down the alley. It’s no secret that he too loves bowling, and he’s pretty good at it too, until Seokjin, one of those vying for a promotion, had to come over and tell him to tone down lest he beat Bae Joohyun’s score.

God forbid if that should happen.

Jeon Jeongguk is trying very hard to do his worst, and it’s actually kind of hilarious because you can literally see the veins in his neck as he strains, his body tensing as he shifts his posture so that his ball rolls into the gutter. The utter disappointment on his face as he strolls back, looking as if he’s about to cry.

“Better luck next time, Jeon,” you call out, feeling a little sorry for the boy with the bunny smile since it seems as if he really does enjoy bowling.

“Yeah, better luck next time!” Kim Taehyung yells out as he takes his time choosing his ball. He holds it in front of him and glances at you with a strange look on his face that immediately warns you to be on guard. “Hey, _____...”

“Yes?” Your voice is raised in suspicion, already not loving where this is going.

“I wanted to ask you this last week, but where is your bump?” Taehyung strokes the bowling ball with a reverence that makes you want to roll your eyes. Why the fuck do you work with weirdos? Taehyung eyes the bowling ball he’s carrying before he looks at you again. “Shouldn’t you be around this far along by now?”

You glance nervously at Jimin, who is in the other lane paired up with the Parenting team, laughing and smiling with this other girl who has long wavy hair that comes down to the middle of her back. But he’s currently too occupied with making her laugh, even helping her out with her bowling posture, to help you out of this hole, so you have to deal with this one yourself.

“The doctor said it’s a small baby,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can, secretly marvelling at your own genius. “Some people don’t show until the 8thor 9thmonth, you know. It’s perfectly normal. Every pregnancy is different.”

You even sound knowledgeable to your own ears. Taehyung looks convinced by your story, but then he decides to put the bowling ball under his shirt for some inane reason, drawing more attention to himself as your coworkers start to notice.

“Hey Park! Look, I’m your girlfriend!” Taehyung yells and you stand up in horror.

“What the fuck, are you fucking high?” You hiss at him, trying to get him to take the ball out without dropping it on his own foot. “Stop fucking around! Bae Joohyun is here!”

Her name gets him to sober up a little, though it’s already too late because Namjoon from HR is strolling over with an amused look on his face, having sat out the bowling because of his injured finger (he’s always injuring some part of his body because of his clumsiness).

“Hey _____, how’s the baby? Don’t mind if I feel the bump? Is the baby kicking yet?” He says with an excited look on his face. “My sister felt her kicks early. It was the most magical thing.”

“Uh… no, not yet,” you laugh weakly and wave his hand away. “It’s a very small baby for now, so…”

“Oh come on, I’m sure there’s been a flutter or two here and there!” Namjoon insists with his eyes bright, and Taehyung nods vigorously.

“C’mon, just let us feel the bump?” Taehyung begs with his hands clasped together, and you glance around furtively. The two of them won’t seem to stop going on and on about this baby, but if you just let them touch your stomach maybe they’ll be satisfied. It can’t hurt, it’s not like they have ultrasounds for hands.

“Fine,” you sigh as you tense your stomach a little. You don’t have the flattest stomach, but it’s certainly not as pronounced as it should be this far into pregnancy. But it’s harmless, they won’t be able to feel anything, and-

“Oh my god, I think the baby just kicked!” Namjoon exclaims with his hand on your lower abdomen, and you frown in distress. “There! Right there! I felt it! Taehyung, did you feel it too?”

Namjoon removes his hand and urges Taehyung to take his place, which the latter does without hesitation. You’re just about to protest that this touchy feely session has gone on for a tad too long, but then Taehyung’s face lights up.

“You’re right! I felt it too! Oh my god ______, your baby kicked!”

He says this last sentence with a booming voice that echoes throughout the bowling alley, and you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. More and more people are turning to look at you now, including total strangers not from your company, and even Jimin and the pretty girl he’s with are turning to you.

Namjoon and Taehyung are absolutely wrecking you today. Luckily Jeon Jeongguk doesn’t seem to be in the mood to join in, seeing as he’s seated on the far end of the sofa soaking up his own misery.

Your cheeks are burning as you feel the burrito from lunch announcing its presence, but you paste on a shaky smile and add on to your credibility with a nervous laugh. “Oh wow… um, that’s the baby, y-yeah it is! The kicks have been so tiny I barely noticed!”

Namjoon is literally clapping his hands with glee. “Where’s Park? He needs to witness this moment! He’s your baby daddy!”

Taehyung glances around till he catches a glimpse of Jimin and the pretty girl with the wavy hair, and then he grimaces. “Woah, looks like you got some competition huh? Better up your game, if you know what I mean. I saw them getting pretty up close and personal just now. Park was teaching her how to hold a bowling ball. I mean, who the fuck needs to learn that?”

“She can hold my balls if she wants,” Namjoon snickers, but then his face straightens when you glare at him. “It was a joke. Sorry. Please don’t report me to HR for sexual harassment.”

Sometimes you just want to quit your job. Not because of Bae Joohyun, but because of your fucking idiotic coworkers.

“Namjoon, you areHR,” you hiss at him with barely concealed patience.

Taehyung continues as if you’d asked for advice on your sex life with your non-existent baby daddy. “A little pregnancy sex never hurt anyone.”

You can’t quite concentrate on what he’s saying as you glance over at Jimin and his new girl turning their attention back to bowling, him picking out a ball and handing it to her, their hands brushing and the girl giggling. Your attention is focused on them, how Jimin stands behind her as she gets ready to bowl, the way she bends over and practically flashes the whole alley in her short skirt.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still going on as if you’d asked about his sexual preferences. “Some men find it hot. I, in fact, would love to knock a chick up and then keep fucking her after. Something about that primal instinct, you know?”

When the girl hits five pins, she turns to Jimin with a squeal and raises her hands for a high five. Jimin returns it with a happy grin, but then somehow the whole affair escalates into a hug, and you frown.

“Shut up, Taehyung,” you are taking out your anger on him, but this stupid punk sure as hell deserves it anyway.

Taehyung holds up two hands at your sudden burst of anger. “Woah, I was only giving suggestions. Trying to help here.”

You leave him, still fuming and wanting nothing more than to get out of these fucking uncomfortable shoes. In actual fact, you have no idea why you’re this worked up. It’s not like you and Park Jimin have this exclusive agreement together. He’s free to flirt with anyone he likes.

But really, her? With the flippy hair and obnoxious voice? And while you’re supposed to be pregnant with his baby too? He’s practically cheating on you openly!! Never mind that you aren’t actually knocked up with his kid. It’s the principle of it all.

By the time you reach the counter to exchange your token for your locker key, your expression must have evolved into something truly frightening, because the poor girl manning the counter squeaks at you in fear when you bark out your locker number at her.

When you’re done changing your shoes, you head into the washroom for a bit to splash some water on your face so that you can cool down, and also to check if your period is here, but it’s not. A few minutes later when you leave, you find Park Jimin waiting outside, still in his bowling shoes, his cheeks flushed with exertion and his hair ruffled out of place.

“Are you okay?” He asks, then clears his throat. “I mean; did anything happen? While you were in there? Did your period come?”

You feel the urge to brush past him in annoyance. The whole of last week, the two of you had avoided each other; on one hand you were completely swamped with work, but on the other hand, there is also this awkwardness in between you that hadn’t existed before that fateful night. You still hadn’t directly addressed it yet, only skirted around the topic in hems and haws.

“No it didn’t,” you say, your voice small all of a sudden. “Who’s that girl in your lane?”

“Oh, Seulgi from Divorce Support,” Jimin says. “I was just teaching her how to bowl.”

There’s another awkward silence as the two of you avoid eye contact, and then you hear Seulgi’s high pitched voice calling Jimin’s name, asking him to come back and help her score another strike. Jimin is just about to respond back to her, but then you grab his collar and pull him into the secluded space just behind the female toilets, shutting him up with your lips on his.

His protests soon turn to muffled moans against you, and his hands come to circle your waist somewhat hesitantly, but the intention alone is enough for you. Breaking apart for air, you finally get a glimpse of how sinful Park Jimin looks, and flashbacks from that night revisit you once more. Plush, swollen lips parted mid gasp, cheeks red and flushed and his eyes that can’t stop devouring you whole.

“You should be teaching mehow to bowl,” you push him up against the wall for added emphasis. “I’m the one you knocked up, not her.”

Jimin gulps nervously as he feels your body press against him, and all the blood rushing down south that will soon make itself known against your lower belly. He tries to put a little bit of space in between your bodies so that he won’t embarrass himself, but you are relentless, pressing your breasts into his chest as your hand makes its way to the front of his pants.

“Yo-you aren’t really knocked up,” Jimin tries to protest weakly as you grab a handful of him, and he hardens immediately.

“I could be,” you shoot back. Aware that you don’t have much time, you pull down the zipper on his dress pants and reach inside to grope him lewdly over his underwear. “You knocked me up with your cock right here. Came inside me and filled me up so good.”

“Shit,” Jimin is panting harshly against your neck now, his hips twitching involuntarily as he feels himself soak the front of his underwear. “Wh-what’s got into you?”

“Your cum,” you say simply, watching his eyes widen again as you sink down to your knees, pulling his underwear the rest of the way down to expose the leaking head of his cock. In your previous one-night stand (the actual one), you regrettably didn’t have a chance to admire him properly, but now you’re going to make up for it.

His cock is thick from base to tip, the head of it already red and angry. You can feel your jaw ache just with the thought of deepthroating him all the way, yet you don’t even care if it’d make Park Jimin feel good.

Pushing his cock to lie flat on his belly, you give the underside a long, salacious lick that has Jimin gasping and sobbing already. You start from the bottom again and maintain eye contact as you kitten lick your way to his head again, and then you take him whole into your warm mouth, suckling him as his hands find their way into your hair.

“We- we can’t do this, we’re at work,” Jimin pants, his actions contradictory as his hip surge forward to chase the warmth of your mouth. All it does is showcase his less than ideal willpower when it comes to you.

“What would your Granny say? If she saw you flirting with another girl while the one you knocked up watches?” You squeeze his cock hard, causing Jimin to buck his hips with a groan.

“Pl-please don’t talk about my Granny when you’re sucking my cock,” Jimin protests as he pushes your head further down on his cock.

You let him push his cock down your throat, relaxing and breathing through your nose as you take him for a few seconds. Then you pull back with a wet, sloppy sound, his cock covered in your saliva and precum that drips onto your blouse as you swallow and breathe. “We aren’t at work right now. We’re at a bowling alley.”

And then your mouth is back on his cock, bobbing up and down as you give him the suck of his life, his taste salty on your tongue. One hand wraps around his girthy base as you suck the rest of him, and the other hand comes up to play with his balls. Jimin is all curses and breathy pants above you, his thick thighs trembling with pleasure as he struggles not to lose his balance, nor his load.

“Like it when I play with your balls like this, hmmm?” You pull yourself off his cock to watch the effect your words have on him, tugging on his balls that feel tight and heavy as you jerk him off with the other hand. “When was the last time you came, Minnie?”

The pretty column of his neck is drenched with sweat as he throws his head back against the wall, cock twitching in your grasp as Jimin struggles not to cum. The nickname makes his knees go weak and his voice is lost somewhere in his chest.

When he still doesn’t answer you, you turn and sink your teeth into his fleshy inner thigh, causing him to whine sharply.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Minnie.”

“L-last week,” he gasps out. “Wi-with you.”

“Someone’s been a good boy,” you resume your strokes of his cock as you lick his balls, causing his thighs to clench in response. “Are you sure you haven’t cum since? Didn’t stroke your cock like a dirty pervert and make a mess of yourself with your cum?”

“I-I promise, I didn’t!” Jimin peers down at you in the haze of his desperation and lust, only to see his precum coating your chin, red lipstick smeared all over, but yet you’ve never looked prettier.

Satisfied with his answer, and also how fucked out he looks within such a short span of you getting your mouth on his cock, you wrap your lips around his head again as you jerk the rest of him off, still cradling his balls with your other hand.

“I’m gonna cum,” comes Jimin’s half plea, half warning.

You double your efforts at jerking him off, opening your mouth to show him the head of his cock as it rests heavy on your tongue. That’s all it takes for Jimin to lose his load, his balls pulsing under your grasp as pretty white ropes of cum shoot decorate your tongue. Jimin can’t quite keep his eyes off the way your mouth fills with his seed, and the way you swallow down every drop of him, licking and cleaning his cock as if to make sure you get all of his cum.

When you make sure he’s clean, you press a light kiss to his oversensitive head. “Just remember. I was the one who sucked your cock and swallowed your cum today. Not Seulgi.”

Jimin reaches to tuck himself back into his pants, hands shaky and thighs still trembling. When you stand up and start to walk off without another word, he reaches for your waist to pull you back into him, wanting a taste of your lips after you swallowed his cum.

It’s bitter and sweet at the same time, and Jimin’s sinful moans only make your thighs clench together harder. When you pull apart, Jimin doesn’t let go of his arms around your waist.

“You have a thing for cum?” You raise an eyebrow at him, remembering him eating you out after he came inside you the last time as well. Most guys you’d been with in the past had no problem kissing you after eating you out, but turn it the other way around and they’d be utterly disgusted.

“It’s hot,” Jimin mutters as his eyes slide away from yours.

Recognizing the telltale signs of his embarrassment, you place your thumb on his chin to stop him from looking away. “It’s hot when you do it.”

Hearing you validate him makes him visibly relax in your arms. “What are we? I don’t think we’re coworkers anymore.”

There’s a brief pause as you are aware of how intimate this is, feeling the arousal still pooling in your underwear and feeling Park Jimin’s body warm against yours. There’s something about being in his arms like this that makes the rest of the world disappear.

“No, we aren’t,” you admit. “We… we could be something more. If you want.”

It’s your turn to be nervous now and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, already anticipating for the handsome golden boy to turn you down. Why would he want to be something more with you after all, when there are so many other pretty girls in the office for him to fuck around with?

“I want to. Be something more, that is.” Jimin smiles back, a cute little shy smile that makes your heart skip a million beats.

“_____! It’s been so long since I last saw you!” Granny welcomes you with a wide grin and comforting arms as she bundles you into her embrace. “You look so pretty! Glowing, as usual. Has our Jiminnie been treating you right? Hmmmm?”

Her tone rises into a slight warning as she glares over at her grandson, who is currently struggling with both your luggage a few feet behind.

“He’s been good, Granny,” you reassure her with a relaxed smile.

Granny invited the both of you to spend the long weekend at Jimin’s childhood home in the countryside which also now serves as a sort of vacation home for the Parks. You can’t even remember the last time you had a vacation, had the chance to pull out your flowy summer dresses and really let your hair down. Though this time, there’s another reason altogether for you to wear loose and flowy clothing.

You are ushered into the house to meet the rest of Jimin’s family; his parents and his brother welcome you as if you are already part of the family. They invite you to spectate a game of Wii Tennis, and it’s then that you realise that Jimin’s family are a bunch of heathens because they don’t wear the Wii remote strap while playing.

Jimin is paired up with his father, against his mother and brother. You are more than content to watch from the sides, nestled in beside Granny who feels as soft and comforting as your own mother. Her words, not so much, as she urges the Jimin and his brother to do better, why, if she joined the game she’d beat all their asses!!!

When Jimin’s side wins, the whole family claps and cheers as his mother stands up to give his father a kiss, and when they’re done, the whole family turns expectantly to you and Jimin.

“A kiss for the winner, that’s the prize!” Jimin’s mother says with a mischievous grin on her face.

Jimin fidgets on the spot, tips of his ears growing red as he protests. “Ma…”

“Oh come on, don’t be such prudes!” Granny chides the both of you. “You already did the nasty with each other. How else did my grandchild come into this world?”

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Jimin’s brother begins to chant with a shit eating grin on his face that reminds you of a certain co-worker.

Jimin is getting more and more embarrassed trying to fend his family off, but for you, it’s no big deal. It’s not like you and Jimin haven’t said or done more lewd things to each other. In a sense, Jimin’s Granny is right. The both of you already fucked. What is one tiny little kiss?

So with that, you pull a protesting, flustered Jimin closer to you and tiptoe to reach his lips, arms around him as you kiss him deeply, putting on a show for his family. Whoops and cheers celebrate the two of you, and though Jimin is stunned for a moment, he kisses you back just as passionately, letting his tongue meet your own as he tastes you.

When the two of you part for air, Jimin’s brother lets out a loud whoop, and Granny is still clapping. But poor little Jimin is as red as a tomato, and he tugs on your hand, mumbling something about showing you his room and retiring for the night.

You are still laughing and giggling over how embarrassed he is when Jimin closes his door behind the both of you, giving you a cute pout as he crosses his arms in indignance. But he’s too cute too pass up on, and you pinch his cheeks, squishing his face.

“Was my baby Jimin embarrassed?” You coo at him in a baby voice, grin lighting up your face as it gets him even more annoyed at you. Unfortunately for Jimin, (but luckily for you) he’s just that kind of person who gets even cuter when they are angry or upset.

“I’ve never kissed a girl in front of my Granny you know,” he turns his cheek at you as he goes to sit on his bed to continue sulking. “She’s seen me in my underpants when I was a kid!”

“So? I saw you in your underpants too,” you grin lewdly at him, laughing when he throws an arm over his face and groans in embarrassment.

When he hears your laughter, Jimin peeks out from behind his arm to see your face glowing and radiant, hair loose in waves around your face and looking… happy for the first time. Not stressed or worried about work, or in tears because Bae Joohyun humiliated you.

Just happy.

“You look really pretty like this,” Jimin admits in a small, shy voice.

You stop mid laugh to look at him properly. “Like what?”

“When you’re happy,” he clarifies. “When you laugh like that.”

“It’s when you make me laugh like this,” you look down at the pattern on his bedspread, tracing along it with your fingers. “I haven’t laughed like this in a long while. But ever since you came in, I… I don’t know. Mondays haven’t been so bad for me lately.”

The two of you are shy suddenly, and Jimin feels like he’s a teenager again, confessing to his crush in his childhood bedroom. Back then he always dreamed of bringing a girl back to his house and confessing to her, maybe even making out with her behind his parents’ back, but of course back then he wasn’t nearly cool enough to do any of that.

But seeing you look so soft and pretty in your dress that dips down at your neckline, giving him a good view of your cleavage, seeing you beside him on his bed, your attention focused on him solely makes him glad that all his childhood fantasies never happened, because he feels like they’re going to be fulfilled right now.

“Can I kiss you?” Jimin asks.

“Not shy anymore?” You tease him one last time before you lean in and capture your lips with his, and then Jimin is switching positions with you so that your hair fans out over his pillow, he is on top of you in between your legs.

“I want to do it properly,” Jimin scatters kisses down your neck and chest, one hand pinching your nipple through your thin dress. “The last time was rushed. And we were drunk. And we were still co-workers back then.”

Your strap slides off your shoulder sinfully as Jimin pleases himself by worshipping your breasts, kneading them and sucking your nipple through the material.

“I- I told you… we were never co-workers. From day one,” you retaliate against his teasing by pinching his nipple through his shirt with a devious smirk on your face.

“You mean we were fucked from day one?” Jimin grins back as he takes off his shirt in one smooth motion, baring his toned chest and slim abs for your viewing pleasure. Your hands are on him immediately, stroking his firm muscles and running your fingers over every inch of his beautiful skin.

Jimin hikes up your skirt, kissing his way up your thighs till he reaches your underwear. The scent of you is driving him insane, he can already see a wet spot on your panties even though he’s barely touched you. The thought of you getting so wet for him makes him even more eager to pleasure you, so he hooks his fingers into the side of your underwear, pulling it down to expose you to his gaze.

“I still owe you from the bowling alley,” he says when you tug at his hair impatiently, wanting to see his face, kiss his lips. With that as explanation, Jimin gives your core a sloppy lick before he seals his lips to you, French kissing your pussy and making sure he gets your clit with every stroke of tongue.

Your cries and moans are music to his ears; at this point he doesn’t even care if his family hears you anymore. Pulling your dress up to your waist so that you can see in between your thighs, the sight nearly sends you over the edge as you witness Park Jimin eating your pussy like a man starved, his chin glazed with your arousal as he laps everything up. His hands are on your inner thighs, opening you up for him even though your muscles spasm from the pleasure.

“Jimin- fuck! Please,” you are already begging as he assaults your clit with his tongue, circling it relentlessly. “Want your fingers. Please.”

“Want to feel me stretch you for my cock?” Jimin gives in with one finger first, slowly inserting it into you with care until you whine and thrash under his grasp in protest. “My baby wants more? What a greedy pussy you have.”

He embellishes this with a sharp spank on your clit, and your thighs twitch again as you cry out. Jimin gives you two fingers now, and the burn feels so good as he pumps in and out, his tongue occasionally flicking at your clit. Your arousal coats his fingers and his palm messily, starting to drip down onto his sheets, but Jimin figures that the both of you are going to get a lot messier before the night ends.

As you watch Jimin pleasure you with his fingers and tongue, all traces of the shy boy who was embarrassed to kiss you in front of his family are gone. The submissive side of him that gave in to your demands so easily at the bowling alley is also gone, in its place is a gentle but firm dominant who takes charge of your pleasure, and you love that he can switch between the two.

“Cum for me, let me see my baby cum on my fingers,” Jimin coaxes you as he speeds up his fingers, curling them to try and find that one rough spot inside you. “You made such a mess already.”

You can feel the edge right there, the knot so tight in your lower belly and just ready to burst. But words escape you, and all you can do is whine Jimin’s name. In response he wraps his thick plush lips around your clit, maintaining eye contact with you as he sucks,and then you come undone, legs going boneless as your back arches, clenching hard around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm.

Jimin helps you to calm down as he withdraws from your pussy, stroking your legs gently as he admires the glow on your face, your fucked out expression as you breathe deeply. His own cock is straining against his jeans, and he is dying to feel your pussy wrapped around him.

When you finally regain your senses and open your eyes, you see the uncomfortable looking tent in Jimin’s jeans, reaching for it immediately to give him his own release. Jimin shifts his body so that his thighs can fall open, and you pull his jeans off, revealing his thick thigh muscles that you straddle as you get his cock out of his soaked boxers.

“Wait,” Jimin stops you with a hand on your waist. “We need a condom. We still don’t know if… if you’re pregnant. From last time.”

Your cheeks heat up as you swallow back the guilt. After bowling, when you went home that night, your period had come, just one day late, but you didn’t tell Jimin. Upon the sight of blood staining your underwear, there was a strange sense of disappointment that bloomed in your chest, and it confused you so much that you didn’t have the bandwidth to even think about telling Jimin what this meant. You had to take time to process both the consequence of not being pregnant, as well as the unprecedented feelings of disappointment that came with it.

“Um… actually, my period came last week.” You say after taking a deep breath.

Jimin raises an eyebrow as he takes in the news. “So it means… you’re not pregnant.”

“I’m not,” you agree with him, and you want to keep going, but the words are just stuck in your chest.

“The first time we were risking it, but I was just thinking…” Jimin picks up on your hesitation, his own words coming out slowly. “If we should… if we should start trying. For real.”

Jimin is completely serious as he returns your gaze, biting his lip in uncertainty.

“You mean… try to get pregnant? Intentionally?” You’re aware that you’re just repeating his words, but some part of you needs to confirm it.

“Yeah,” Jimin says as he strokes your waist, and you’re fully aware of his cock twitching as he says his next words. “I want to have a baby with you.”

Your breath is sucked out of your chest as the impact of his words hit you, and arousal aside, you feel your stomach fill with butterflies.

“That is… if you want to as well,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into anything-“

“I want to,” you interrupt him, reassuring him with a grind of your hips. “I want to have your baby. We’re about three months late, but I think if we start trying real hard now, this baby will get made and we won’t be too far behind.”

Jimin’s cock twitches again, giving away how aroused he is, but he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Hearing you say that has awakened a fantasy in him that he didn’t even know existed. No longer is he going for the low hanging fruit of just kissing a girl in his childhood bedroom. No, he’s going to make a baby in his childhood bedroom.

You pump him with a few strokes, watching the precum bubble up from his head and run down his girthy length, admiring how hard he is for you. His length feels so heavy in your palm, and your mouth waters as you remember how much better he felt in your mouth, how salty and thick his cum was as he released down your throat.

Just as you bend down to give yourself a repeat ride, Jimin stops you with a hand on your cheek, his own cheeks rosy and embarrassment creeping back in as he says, “You’ll get a mouthful of cum if you do that. As much as I want you to swallow my cum, you’re not getting pregnant that way.”

And then he’s back in charge as he flips you over, spreading your legs wide and resting them on his shoulders as your pussy leaks your arousal. Jimin uses the head of his cock to collect all your juices, teasing your clit before he prods at your entrance. The blunt head of him nudges in slowly, and the stretch makes the both of you moan.

Your legs are trembling, hands reaching out for something to hold on to as Jimin bottoms out inside you. You don’t remember him feeling so big inside you, stretching you out so good and going so deep that you can feel him at the base of your lower abdomen. When you look down, you realise that there is a small bump there, and Jimin is watching that exact spot as well.

“Feel so good and tight, my baby was made to take my cock,” he praises as he intertwines his hands with yours, forcing them above your head as he begins to thrust. His cock slides in and out of your drenched pussy easily, and your walls grip him so tightly that Jimin never wants this moment to end.

Jimin leans forward so that your thighs are pushed to your chest, making the fit even tighter around his cock. Your pussy is already clenching around him, and your breasts are bouncing, cheeks flushed red and lips swollen and shiny from his precum and saliva.

“Harder, fuck me harder Jimin,” you groan as he punishes you with his thrusts, every slap of his thighs against yours reminds you that the both of you are fucking to make a baby. Just watching the sweat drip off his chest, his abs tense and feeling his ass flex as he fucks into your pussy with the full intention of giving you a baby, hisbaby, makes your pussy cream uncontrollably around his cock.

“Does my baby like this?” Jimin gives a harsh thrust and bends your legs back till he can feel your cervix. “Fuck, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Wanna give you a baby so bad. You’re fucking asking for it, asking to get filled with cum.”

“I want it, Jimin,” you gasp as you feel him against the entrance of your womb; Jimin is giving you no mercy as he continues to aim his thrusts deep as he can go. “Want your baby. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Jimin lets your legs fall off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you into him, as his thrusts increase in power and speed. Your legs wrap around him tightly as if to keep him from pulling out, so all Jimin can do his grind the head of his cock against your cervix, feeling himself twitch as his orgasm draws near.

“I’m not gonna last, cum with me please,” he begs, mouth open and kissing your neck as he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder.

“I’m close, just a little more, fuck,” you loosen your thighs a little so that Jimin can thrust a little more, and the movement of him brushing against your clit sends you into an orgasm, clenching hard around him as you cry out his name and your walls milk him dry for every drop.

Jimin groans as he feels his balls tighten up, filling you up with cum as he thrusts to get every drop right where it should be. “Take it all, take my cum and give me a baby. That’s what my girl wants right?”

“Yes, yes!” You whine as you feel the warmth of his cum in your pussy, his frenzied thrusts as he rides out the last of his orgasm, making sure he gives you everything he has.

Jimin’s face is still buried in your neck as his hips continue to fuck his cum into you, hearing the filthy squelch as he tilts your hips up so that not a single drop can escape. The leisurely thrusts feel intimate as you hug him close to you, feeling his soft breaths against your skin as your legs wrap around his waist, feeling him finally still with his cock still deep inside you. Everything is warm and sticky, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A few minutes pass before you realise that Jimin is perfectly content to have his cock plug your pussy up with cum, and while the thought kind of turns you on, he’s heavy, and you nudge him off you with your knee. Jimin pouts as he settles beside you, still drawing you closer to him as he lifts one of your thighs to get a better look at the mess he made of you.

“It’s all coming out,” he says in a disappointed whine as his fingers scoop out the frothy white cum that spilled out of you because of his fucking, gently pushing it back into you. But he can’t resist a little taste, bringing his fingers to his lips for a second.

“Jimin! Stop stealing my baby batter,” you grab his wrist to stop him, shoving it back toward your thighs.

“That’s the least sexy word for cum I’ve ever heard,” he frowns disapprovingly at you. “Stay there, don’t move. You need to keep your hips up.”

Jimin pushes a pillow under your hips, and whilst you’re rendered immobile, he takes the chance to sneakily lap at your inner thighs, cleaning up some of the cum that he didn’t manage to push into you. You glare at him, reaching down to tug at his hair, but then-

“Stay safe, kids!” It’s his father’s voice from down the hallway.

“Why do they need to stay safe? She’s already having his kid!” You hear Granny’s voice a second later, and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No need to stay safe, Puppy! You heard me? It’s good for the baby!”

You glare at Jimin, then push your chin toward his door, expecting him to answer his Granny.

Jimin mouths a ‘what’ at you in exasperation, his lust filled brain unable to think of a single appropriate response for this situation. Finally, he forces a cheery tone as he shouts back, “we will, Granny! Night Granny!”

Your head falls back into the pillow with a groan at how lame he is.

You’re most definitely not looking forward to breakfast tomorrow.

#bts smut #bts #bts park jimin #btsmaknaenet #bangtan bookclub #kwriterskollection #bts jimin smut

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iwatchanimeoccasionally · 4 years

Text

My Beetlejuice Academia

It’s finally done. Sort of. The first draft is done. I am actually fairly happy with it, though I am super exhausted and can’t make myself stay up long enough to read it, so this is unedited, I will come back tomorrow to edit, and then the revision process will start for transfer to AO3. Therefore, I’m not expecting a single soul to read this, but I want it out there in the real world so it doesn’t can’t keep taking up all the space I have in my brain.

If you do want to read it, ABSOLUTELY read this warning first. This is based off Beetlejuice, meaning there are themes of death throughout, major character deaths, and themes of suicide and suicidal thoughts/actions. I think that’s all the triggers this needs. Oh yeah, and heavy themes of child abuse. Not BJ’s fault this time Endeavor can burn in hell.

(Also, I took some liberties with characters to fit better with the plot)

A trunk slams shut on the outskirts of a small town no one has ever cared about before, signaling what should be the beginning of a perfectly normal vacation. A boy and his mom piling into the car without a care in the world, having no clue that this will be the last car ride they ever have together. No one ever told them that just down the street, before they even leave town, the brakes will give out in the car and they will both die in a crash, avoiding hitting a small dog who’s owner always leaves off leash because no one could ever get hurt because of a small dog roaming free in a small town.

Hours later, the duo stumbles into their house, cold and confused but seemingly ok.

“I’m sorry we had to miss your convention, Izuku,” Inko apologizes for the first, but probably not the last, time, breaking the silence.

Izuku turns a blinding smile on his mom and, without any hesitation replies, “Don’t worry about it! I’m just glad we’re ok, that was scary. I thought we were going to die for a second there.” A shiver racks his body then and Inko is quick to the fireplace, wanting to warm her son before he catches something.

Within moments, a fire is going and the two huddle next to it, Inko stating, “Please don’t say things like that. I don’t like thinking about you being hurt, let alone anything worse.”

Humming his recognition, Izuku leans closer to the fire. His brow furrows when he doesn’t feel any warmer, but that’s when he realizes he doesn’t feel particularly cold anyway. Even though he knows he should be, they got soaked from crashing into the river earlier. Even though it’s summer, the sun has gone down and it’s chilly outside so he has to be cold. “Hey Mom,” Izuku starts, unsure of what to even think anymore, “why isn’t the fire hot?”

It takes a second for her to answer, as if she’s just realizing that herself. “I… I don’t know, honey. But I’m not very cold,” she replies, voicing his thoughts. “Do you remember coming home?”

Her question stirs something in Izuku’s brain, but he’s not sure what it is quite yet. What he does know is that he can’t come up with those memories, either. “Did we…” he trails off, not sure how to continue, but one look at his mom makes him think she’s having the same thought.

“You sure did,” a new voice drawls, making both mother and son jump. They whip around to look at the intruder, Inko pushing Izuku behind her instinctively as they do. When they find is a boy, about Izuku’s age if looks are anything to go by, sprawled across their couch. His spiky red hair is hanging off the front and his orange and black boots are kicked up on the back. “Took you a long time to realize you were dead.”

Despite the obvious annoyance in the boy’s voice, Inko steps forward and demands an explanation. “Who are you and what are you doing in our house?”

Red eyes narrow at the pair before he pastes on a fake smile on his blue tinged lips and flips over so he’s sitting up and facing them properly. “The name’s Katsuki. I’m here to teach you guys to be ghosts, or whatever.” By the time he’s finished speaking, the friendly act is already over and Katsuki is already back to scowling at them. “You’re Inko, the kid’s Izuku, and it’s only a matter of time before this house sells. No one will know you’re still here, the living tend to ignore the strange and unusual and all that garbage. And you’re not going to be happy then, seeing as you’re trapped here for the next hundred years. So stop acting like I’m this big bad guy and let me help you keep people out of here.”

“No thank you, Katsuki,” Inko dismisses, “I think we’ll be fine. We don’t need to chase people out, anyway. I’m sure whoever buys the house will be lovely people and we can coexist if need be.” Izuku keeps a careful eye on Katsuki as his mom talks, not liking how the boy’s eyes narrow and his fists clench like he’s already prepared to get in a fight. If he’s being completely honest, he’s glad his mom said no, he’s nervous about this angry looking boy.

Katsuki takes a step forward and, just for a moment, Izuku swears he sees blood on the boy’s temples before it disappears when Katsuki heaves a deep sigh. “Whatever you say, losers. Just say my name three times when you change your minds and I’ll see if I still want to help you.” Turning to leave, Katsuki casts one glance over his shoulder and, with a smirk, points out, “By the way, your son’s on fire.”

Izuku jumps and looks down at himself, panicking when he realizes that to be the truth and both Midoriya’s frantically pat his body to put the fires out. By the time they finish, Katsuki is long gone.

“Please never call him back,” Izuku requests once they are a little more settled. “He’s kinda creepy.”

Inko smiles and nods, “Of course. He could be dangerous and you’ve already been hurt enough.” Izuku doesn’t like the hurt that flashes across his mother’s face before she excuses herself and goes upstairs.

“Mom?” he calls after her, wanting to make sure everything’s ok.

She pauses halfway up the stairs but doesn’t turn back toward Izuku, “It’s ok, Izuku. As long as we’re trapped here, we might as well just act like we’re still alive.”

-------------------

It’s all slamming doors and raised voices when the Todorokis move in. Shouto wouldn’t normally react so violently, scared of how his father might react, but he was just ripped away from the only family he’s ever known and he’s furious.

At least when he yells, “I hate you for bringing me here! I’ll find a way to get back to Mom!” before running upstairs and slamming his door with all his might when they first move in, the movers are still there so he knows there won’t be repercussions for a few hours. By then maybe he’ll have slipped out and be on his way back home.

One glance out the window tells him otherwise. Enji is back outside, pretending to supervise the workers when, in reality, Shouto knows he’s just watching the window of the room he assigned Shouto to make sure there are no escape attempts. Feeling bold, Shouto almost wants to try anyway, but all his fight is slowly leaving his system. As hopelessness sets in, Shouto collapses onto the floor, at least taking this opportunity to sleep before punishment arrives.

He’s awoken what must be hours later, judging by the low light from the moon coming in his window. When he does wake up, he’s up in an instant, even though he’s not sure what woke him. But then he hears it. The steps stomping toward him. Threatening pain behind each one.

Fear floods his system. He knows what Enji is capable of, but he’s never had the full force directed at only him before. He clearly wasn’t thinking earlier, not considering the fact that he has no form of protection or even distraction anymore.

Shouto refuses to make himself small, though, standing with his back straight and his arms at his side by the time his door is flung open. It doesn’t take much for him to realize how furious his father is. He definitely doesn’t need the quiet but menacing, “Downstairs. Now,” thrown at him as if words can be used as deadly weapons.

Smarter now than when they first arrived, Shouto ducks his head, averting eye contact, and follows Enji. He doesn’t bother looking around as the walk, knowing that this house isn’t for living in. It’s just a place to sleep and train, that’s all Shouto’s life is. And he uses the word “train” lightly. It’s not like his life is leading up to a black belt championship in anything. No, he’s supposed to take Enji’s place as a realtor, buying entire towns to ruin by selling them to the rich like Enji plans to do with this town. He stops himself from thinking what the training really is, though, not wanting to dwell on it when it’s so close to happening.

He’s not sure why, but Shouto’s surprised when Enji leads him into a fully prepared training room. Though it makes sense, of course Enji would make sure it was set up first thing, he needs to make sure Shouto knows what he did wrong today.

That surprise is his downfall, though. He doesn’t even see the first hit coming until Enji’s fist is in his stomach and he’s doubled over, already unable to breath and needing to puke. “You should’ve avoided that, Shouto,” Enji scolds, nearly spitting on his son in shame. “I’ve trained you better, you can’t be taken down by the first hit.”

Even as he’s scolding him, Enji keeps hitting Shouto, never giving him a chance to recover. First it’s an elbow to the spine, knocking Shouto to the floor when he’s already having trouble staying on his feet. Then it’s a kick to the ribs when he slowly pushes himself up onto all fours, knocking him back down. Shouto almost wants to just stay down, but he knows that would just infuriate Enji even more. So he keeps trying to get up and Enji just keeps knocking him down, scolding all the while that Shouto should be better than that.

It’s only when Shouto can’t keep pushing himself back up that Enji gets to the real heart of the matter. He puts his foot on Shouto’s wrist, putting enough pressure down to hurt, to threaten, but not enough to do any real lasting damage. “Never embarrass me like that again, do you hear me, boy?” Enji growls and Shouto wants to cry out from the pain in his hand, but he knows how dangerous it is to show weakness to his father. He forgets to reply, though, which is another big problem. Enji steps down harder and Shouto’s sure somethings got to give soon. “I said. Do. You. Hear. Me.”

Shouto drags in a deep breath and then says in his most convincing voice, “Yes sir!”

The pressure is finally relieved and Shouto sees Enji walk away out of the corner of his eye. “Good,” the man grunts as he leaves, “you have more training tomorrow. Go to bed.”

It takes an hour for him to drag himself upstairs back to his room, and he’s so exhausted by that point that he doesn’t even process the voices trying to talk to him before they remember that he can’t hear them.

------------

“We have to do something to help him!” Izuku cries, desperate for this boy that he doesn’t even know.

Inko nods and paces the attic, the only space safe from the new family in their home. “I know. But they can’t see us, so I don’t know what to do,” Inko agrees, just as lost as her son on what to do with these frantic emotions.

Izuku’s mind instantly flashes to the blonde boy from before, wondering if Katsuki could help them. But he shakes that thought away, sure that anything Katsuki would do would only make things worse for Shouto. “We could try haunting them. Maybe we could distract his dad enough that he won’t hurt Shouto anymore?” Izuku suggests even though he doesn’t have the slightest clue how he’s supposed to go about haunting people.

The night is spent trying to figure out haunting techniques, even occasionally going downstairs to Enji’s room, only to return minutes later when there is absolutely no reaction from the sleeping man. Maybe being able to wake someone up comes later, they’ll just have to wait and see.

The next morning, Izuku starts relatively small. He just waits around until Enji has his breakfast prepared and is sitting down to eat, Shouto trying to silently gather breakfast in the kitchen and not draw his father’s attention. Seeing the boy trying to eat, Izuku deliberately waits a minute to give him a chance to get something gathered, and then. He just knocks Enji’s cup of orange juice on the older man’s lap.

“What the hell!” Enji yells as soon as it happens, jumping up and tossing the newspaper he was previously perusing onto the table. Enji looks around furiously, but Shouto fled the area as soon as he heard his father yell, escaping unseen and free of suspicion of somehow being behind the prank. Enji kicks the table in rage, muttering something about it being crooked, and stomps out of the dining room to go shower.

Pride wells in Izuku’s chest when he goes to tell his mother of his success.

His trek is stopped on the second floor when a hand stops just shy of landing on his forearm. Izuku nearly jumps, even more shocked and confused when he follows the arm upward, eventually seeing Shouto looking directly at him. “I don’t know what you are, but that was probably the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” Shouto says, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yo- You can see me?” Izuku questions, even though the answer is already clear. Shouto simply raises an eyebrow and nods in response. “But. How? The living aren’t supposed to be able to see the dead. Something about not seeing the strange and unusual?” Izuku racks his brain for Katsuki’s exact words, but Shouto shrugs and glances away before Izuku can explain further.

“Perhaps it’s because I, myself, am strange and unusual,” Shouto mutters, a furrow deep in his brow and his hand finally pulling back to himself.

Down the hall, a door slams and both boys flinch away from the noise. One glance at Shouto tells Izuku he doesn’t just want to leave him alone so, without thinking, he invites him to continue their discussion in the attic.

The moment they step into the attic, Inko greets Izuku, “How did it go? Oh, you brought a friend?” Inko’s eyes widen a little when she looks at Shouto and Izuku blushes at being called his friend.

“It went well. He’s furious. Turns out though, Shouto can see us. Or me?” Izuku looks back at Shouto and sees him waving politely at his mom so he amends again, “Us. He sees dead people.”

Izuku thinks his joke is pretty funny, but Inko doesn’t even acknowledge it and Shouto simply nods along. “I suppose I do see dead people,” Shouto agrees and Izuku wonders if he even understands the joke Izuku tried to make.

“Well, honey,” Inko starts, clearly not wanting to dwell on the fact that she and her son are dead, “we’re not planning to haunt you. We just wanted to teach your dad a lesson for hurting you. No child is going to be abused on my watch.”

Shouto snorts then, glancing over his shoulder as if he’s expecting his father to come stomping up the stairs at any moment. “Good luck with that. Nothing can stop Father from training me to be the ‘perfect son’. Even the fact that my face will always look like… this,” he gestures helplessly at his scarred eye, “He thinks I can still be what he bred me to be.”

Inko doesn’t know whether to be furious or so sad for Shouto, then, and Izuku knows that because he feels exactly the same. “You’re a human being, Shouto. You weren’t ‘bred’ to be anything other than yourself,” Inko argues, though her tone is soft like she’s just reminding Shouto of something he should have known all along.

“Shouto! Get down here now!” Enji commands, his voice seeming to carry all the way from the first floor. Jumping Shouto waves at the two ghosts and runs out of the room and down the stairs, not even saying any parting words.

The two share a look after he leaves and the seem to reach the same resigned decision at the same time. “We need that troubled boy, don’t we?” Inko asks with a sigh and Izuku can only nod.

“Katsuki,” he starts before Inko cuts him off.

“If anything bad comes of this, I don’t want it to be your responsibility,” she explains. “Katsuki. Katsuki. Katsuki.”

A poof of smoke fills the attic, dissipating quickly and leaving the boy with spiky hair, now blonde, leaning against the wall next to the window. His arms are crossed over his chest, but he seems generally less pissed off than his did the last they saw him. “I told you you’d need my help,” he says with a smirk.

Izuku cringes at the idea and shares a look with his mother, unsure if he’s ok to explain what they need help with. “It’s not what you said, though. We don’t mind sharing the house,” he argues, locking eyes with the demon. Katsuki raises a brow in disbelief before kicking off the wall with a scoff.

Stalking over to them, Katsuki gets right up in Izuku’s space before asking, “So what is the problem?” He circles around, coming to a stop behind Izuku and resting his chin on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Izuku winces at the smell of burning and iron, but is kept in place by the demon pressed against him. “You just that desperate for someone to show you what a real ghost is capable of?”

Cutting in, Inko pulls Izuku toward herself and leaves Katsuki watching them with a self-satisfied smirk. “We just want to stop an abusive situation. Whether that means driving the father away or making him stop what he’s doing,” Inko fills him in easily.

That puts a grin on Katsuki’s face and he twirls around, already starting for the stairs. “Answers simple. Let’s kill that fucker,” Katsuki says all to gleefully.

Izuku runs, putting himself between Katsuki and the door. “No. We don’t want to kill anybody!” Izuku cries, holding his arms out and grabbing the door frame so Katsuki can’t just push him out of the way. Katsuki does come to an abrupt stop, but his smile drops and his hair starts to bleed red from the tips, dripping down toward his scalp.

Whirling around, Katsuki paces toward Inko, stopping inches in front of her with his face entirely too close to her for comfort. “Is that so? What is the point then?” he demands, practically yelling in her face.

Taking a step back, Inko raises her hand placating. “You said you’d teach us to haunt, is that not still an option?” she questions and Izuku doesn’t need to see Katsuki’s face to know he’s not calming. The vibrancy of his now fully red hair says all Izuku needs to know.

Luckily, Katsuki is apparently above hurting other ghosts and he just turns and kicks the nearest object, sending a chair flying against the wall for one leg to fly off. “No! Of course not! Why would you waste everyone’s time doing that when the answer is so simple?” he shouts, not even looking at either of the other ghosts as he rages. “If you’d just let me kill the guy and get his son to say my name, we could be done here. That simple.”

Izuku’s brows furrow and he momentarily forgets about the danger and clarifies, “Say your name? We’ve already done that, why do we need to get Shouto to say it?”

He doesn’t even see Katsuki coming, he just knows that the next second, all he can smell is smoke and he can practically hear a gunshot in the distance. “It doesn’t matter if you say it, Deku. I need someone living!” Katsuki growls against Izuku’s throat before he rips away and stomps off. Izuku nearly loses his balance when the demon is no longer pressing against him, but he barely manages to right himself before Katsuki turns around to stare at him again.

Chest heaving on a deep, yet unnecessary, breath, Katsuki’s hair slowly drains color and he forces himself calm. “Whatever. You ever watch a ghost movie?” Katsuki asks, his voice still stiff with barely contained anger. When both Izuku and Inko nod, Katsuki waves a hand dismissively. “Just do that shit. The only thing you can’t do is make the breathers see you. It takes a lot of concentration for newbies like you guys to make them hear you, but it’s possible. I’ll be back in a few days to see if you’re ready for me to kill him yet.”

With that Katsuki grabs Izuku by the shoulders and moves him away from the doorway. As he’s walking out, Izuku calls after him, “Wait, Mr. Katsuki, sir. Don’t you have any more advice for us?”

Katsuki pauses on the top stair to throw a disdainful look over his shoulder. “I’d want to die all over again if I watch you practice. You can figure it out.”

Then, he’s gone.

----------------

Over the next several days, Shouto grows closer to Izuku until they’re practically inseparable. Shouto has never had as much fun as watching the ghosts haunt his father in his life and he has to hold back laughter every time they knock something out of Enji’s hands or hide something immediately after he sets it down. One time, Izuku took Father’s phone hid it under a cupboard, only taking it off silent mode hours later when Father had lost his mind throwing things around and yelling about his stuff continually going missing. Then, there was the day when Father didn’t bother Shouto at all, exhausted from a night of getting woken by strange noises every time he started drifting off. The best part, though, were the times Izuku simply kept Shouto company when Father left the house.

The were joined at the hip. Except when Izuku goes to whatever ghost places Shouto can’t follow him to, that is, and Shouto is left home alone.

This was one of those times.

“Pack your things, I’m selling this house.”

The words still buzz around Shouto’s brain, said so nonchalantly as Father passed him on the stairs that morning. Of course, Shouto had simply uttered a “Yes sir,” and continued on to his room. There was nothing else to be done at the time. There’s no going against Father’s will. Shouto wishes more than anything that Izuku were here to talk about it, but the ghost boy is missing and Shouto wouldn’t know the first thing about finding him.

But that sure is an idea, isn’t it?

Father can’t rip Shouto away from his happiness and only friend if Shouto is left to haunt this place, too. All it takes is one second of consideration for Shouto to decide that’s the best option. The only option.

So he scribbles out a note quickly, before Father returns home from his trip into town and stop him, leaving it on his desk as to be found later.

I don’t know how you discovered that this place makes me happy, but you can never make me leave it. Tell Mother I’m sorry. If she ever speaks to you again, that is.

And with that, he’s off running for the attic. He glances around on his way through and, for the first time ever, he’s happy to see the Midoriyas are missing. They would try to stop him and the sad look on Inko’s face when she realizes there is a suicidal child in her home might just be enough to change his mind.

Clambering out to the room, Shouto rushes to the edge. First, he checks to make sure Father’s car was still missing before moving on to find the best place to jump. He doesn’t know enough about physics to know if the height alone would be enough to get the job done. Which is why he finds the bird bath. If nothing else, impaling himself on it would probably do the trick.

He’s just about to jump, the note tucked safely in the breast pocket of his flannel, when someone calls out. “What’s happening here?”

Whirling around, Shouto sees a boy with purple tinged hair eying him curiously. Which doesn’t make sense for a number of reasons. The first one coming to mind being that the boy is only wearing a black tank top, ripped jeans, and orange and black combat boots even though it’s going to be winter soon and Shouto is chilly in his flannel and sweatpants. The second being, “Who the hell are you?”

The other boy smiles then, walking forward carefully, clearly conscious of how close Shouto still is to the edge. “I’m who you apparently want to be. I think I can help you, though. How ‘bout you let me kill your dad and you stick around a little longer?” the boy bargains and Shouto wonders how he even knows that Father is the problem.

Shouto stands his ground, watching the other boy with his eyes only, not willing to move his body at all for fear of giving the other boy and opening to pull him further onto the roof. “No thank you. I’m fine with my current arrangement,” Shouto comments, edging backwards ever so slightly.

Purple hair shrugs, though Shouto can see in his eyes that the indifference is feigned. “Alright, kill yourself. That won’t stop him, though. You realize that? He made you for a reason, what’s stopping him from doing to some other woman and child exactly what he did to you and your mom?” the boy asks and Shouto hates that logic.

If ever a time to be selfish, though, now would be it. “I guess that’s something I’ll just have to live with. Oh wait. I won’t, will I?”

Purple hair gets darker, and Shouto finally realizes that he must be another ghost with the way his hair changes color like a mood ring. “Don’t you want your dad to suffer? I can bring him so much pain. Make him pay for what he’s done. All you need to do is say my name three times.”

Shouto shrugs and turns around, leaning forward dangerously. “I don’t even know your name,” he points out and a small smile crosses his lips at the idea of finally just being done with it.

All at once, Shouto hears the ghost shout, “NO!” and then arms burning like hot coals wrap around his waste, tugging him back.

Thrashing around Shouto starts yelling, “Let go of me you ghost jack-ass!”

Then he hears the one thing he didn’t think to expect, “Please don’t kill yourself. I don’t want to do this whole being dead thing without you,” is murmured against his neck in Izuku’s voice. Twisting his head around to look over his shoulder, Shouto’s nose buries in familiar green curls and he’s met with the scent of wet, caught between stale water and a rushing river right after rain. His entire body burns where he’s pressed against the heat of ghost who’s probably never been so earnest before.

Inko’s voice cuts in just ask Shouto shuts his eyes and relaxes against the warmth that would probably be painful if the source were anyone or anything else. “Katsuki! We agreed no murder!” Shouto’s suddenly glad that Inko’s never had a reason to seriously scold him before, dreading the idea of having the tone turned on him when she finds out that ‘Katsuki’ wasn’t the one attempting to kill him.

Izuku’s grip lightens and he pushes Shouto up until he��s sitting. Turning, Shouto makes eye contact with Izuku for half a second before he sees his truth reflected in the ghost’s eyes and he has to stand and walk away, toward the window this time.

The new ghost ignores the scolding he just received, though, looking only at Shouto. “Now you know my name. How ‘bout it?” he offers yet again.

Shaking his head, Shouto refuses to look at anyone else on the roof. “These two clearly know you. If they thought that asking you for help would be a good idea, I would have done it by now. I trust Izuku’s judgment far more than I do yours,” Shouto mutters, just wanting to go back inside at this point and hopefully get away with pretending this didn’t happen.

“Who cares what a worthless Deku has to say? I can help you and that’s all that you need,” Katsuki argues. He doesn’t even see the stormy look blow into Shouto’s eyes before he’s being kicked off the roof, falling to what would be his death if he weren’t already deceased.

“Shouto!” Inko scolds, rushing over to see if Katsuki’s ok, even though the boy has already vanished. “That’s dangerous! Someone could’ve been hurt!”

Shouto shrugs and looks at Izuku, who’s trying to hide his giggles behind his hand. “He was already dead. I don’t see the problem,” he points out before slipping through the window and down the stairs to his own room.

Izuku stops long enough to tell his mom not to follow before he’s trailing after Shouto. The door’s barely shut before Izuku’s asking, “Were you really trying to kill yourself?”

Flopping face first onto his bed, Shouto simply fishes his note out of his pocket and holds it out to Izuku. There’s a moment of silence before the paper is slid from his fingers and then even more silence as Izuku reads what Shouto wrote.

The silence drags on for too long, making Shouto uncomfortable. Eventually, he just has to flip over and face Izuku, who he’s sure must be crying. Shock settles in when Shouto’s met with silent fury rather than the tears he was expecting. “I’m sorry, Izuku,” he apologizes, his voice quiet but no less sincere.

With a shake of his head, Izuku makes the note vanish is a quick burst of flame before he drops onto Shouto’s bed and holds him tight. “Don’t apologize, but never do this again. That was really scary and I don’t want you to die. I promise I won’t let your dad take you if you just promise to talk to me in the future instead of jumping to… jumping,” Izuku says, his voice steel even as it comforts Shouto’s shaken nerves.

“I can do that,” Shouto offers and he’s never felt so relieved as when Izuku’s temperature drops to something more reasonable and he relaxes to a more comfortable embrace. “Can I sleep for a while, it’s been a draining day.”

Izuku nods but doesn’t let go, letting Shouto fall asleep in his arms just like Shouto was hoping for.

---------------------

It’s now or never, Shouto needs to find a way to stay in this house, with out without his father, and if he doesn’t have it sorted out by the end of the day, Father’s going to make him move. They have a plan, Shouto thinks. Izuku has been working on possession, but he’s not willing to practice on Shouto so he’s not really sure what kind of progress the ghost has been making.

He trusts Izuku, though, so he’s sure it’ll work out.

When it comes time for dinner, Shouto is excited to go downstairs for the first time. Father notices this, commenting, “I see you’ve come around to the idea of moving.”

“Yes, Father,” Shouto responds quietly, looking at his plate and decidedly not at Izuku hovering in the corner.

“It’s truly too bad you couldn’t attend the school here, even for a day. There will be an even better school at the new house. Maybe I an even pay Aizawa to transfer so he can still teach you,” Father continues, ignoring Shouto continuing to get more tense the longer he’s able to form his own sentences. Of course, Father wouldn’t know that’s going to stop soon.

Over time, Shouto begins to tune Father out as he goes on and on about where they’re supposed to be moving to. He simply hums in all the correct places while he eats, thanks to years of practice listening for the intonations in Father’s voice requesting a response. All the while, Shouto only occasionally glances at Izuku, where the boy F

Finally, about halfway through the dinner, Izuku pulls it off. Father cuts off in the middle of a sentence, his body seizing up and just freezing, as if he’s suddenly unsure of how to control it. Eyes immediately flying to Izuku, Shouto sees him pumping a fist in the air with a massive smile splitting his face.

Looking back to Father, Shouto speaks quickly but clearly, refusing to lose this chance. “I’m going to be very clear with you, Father. You are going to leave, but I’m not going with you. There are people here I refuse to lose and they refuse to tolerate your abuse any more.”

Shouto watches Izuku’s face tighten as he focuses on loosening the reigns just enough for Father to answer on his own. When he’s able, Father growls, “You don’t make the rules, boy.”

Instinct makes Shouto flinch in his seat, that tone typically meaning pain is coming for him. All that happens this time, though, is Father is jerked back in his seat so hard his chair rocks and his mouth snaps shut.

“Change of plans, then,” Shouto mutters, pulling out his phone and opening the camera. He nods to Izuku as soon as he has a recording started.

Izuku and Enji start speaking simultaneously, though Shouto knows only one voice will be heard in the recording. “My name is Todoroki Enji. I am coming forward to admit to some crimes that I know most of you will never forgive me for. For as long as I have been married, I have abused my family. My wife did not choose to marry me, nor did she choose to be committed to a mental institution after I drove her to hurting our youngest child. Said child, Shouto, did not choose to move away from his family with me. I tore him away because they were in the way of my abusing him into being the child I wanted to create. I am a coward of a man, but I would like to change that. I’m starting the process now by admitting my crimes to you, the public, and letting my family go to live their lives as they please without me in it.”

As soon as Izuku stops speaking, Shouto stops the recording and levels Father with a look. “I am holding all the aces here. This is your last chance to leave me in peace, or I will release this video to the public. It would go viral in minutes and you know it,” Shouto reasons.

Father lunges forward then, his hands on Shouto’s throat before Shouto can even realize what’s happening. “You hold all the aces? Yeah, that’s how this looks,” Father mocks, his grip tightening to the point that Shouto can’t breath.

The next second, Father is ripped away and pinned to the opposite wall. He slams against it so hard that plaster cracks and Shouto’s sure he has a concussion.

Izuku’s on him then, hands fluttering around and tears in his voice, “I’m so sorry, Shouto! I meant to just release his voice again, but I accidentally dropped to much. I’m so sorry!” Father must fight against him because Izuku’s hand flips back and Shouto hears the wall creak under Father’s weight.

Shouto shakes his head, hope leaving him quickly, and he waves Izuku off. “It’s not going to work. Nothing we do will be enough,” he admits, hanging his head. “I can’t keep living like this, though. Forgive me, Izuku.”

It takes Izuku a moment to figure out what Shouto means, and by then he’s already started. Ignoring Izuku’s pleas that they can figure it out, Shouto chants, “Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki.”

There’s another puff of smoke and then, there Katsuki is, his hair bright violet in his excitement. “Hey, old man,” he greets, grabbing Father with a single hand and holding him back from rushing Shouto again, Izuku apparently having released him. “Time for you to go.”

“Don’t kill him,” Shouto requests, not really caring what else happens so long as he doesn’t have his father’s death on his conscience.

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki shoves Father away from himself and looks over his shoulder at Shouto. Father tries to move past him, but Katsuki freezes him in an instant, turning him around to run full force into a cabinet. “I can at least rough him up a little, right?” he requests, as if he hadn’t already started that process.

Shouto shrugs, beyond caring too much. “No worse than he’s done to me,” he limits, though it’s honestly not much of a limit.

It’s with a grin that Katsuki turns back to his prey. It becomes apparent very quickly, though, that Katsuki either can’t or won’t outright harm Father, he only turns his own force against him whenever the man tries to get to Shouto instead of just giving up. Which Shouto is honestly fine with. He doesn’t necessarily want Father harmed, he just wants him to leave him alone. Whatever it takes.

Luckily, it doesn’t take too many redirects for Father to lose his temper and leave. He storms out of the house with Katsuki hot on his tail, throwing taunts as they go, just for Katsuki to stop short at the door the second Father is through it.

“Thanks, kid. That was fun,” Katsuki turns with a grin, his hair magenta with glee. “There’s no way he’s coming back here after that.”

Shouto shrugs, turning to go back to his room. “I wouldn’t count on that. He’s a stubborn man. Thank you for getting rid of him, though. Do whatever you want down here, I’m going upstairs.”

Izuku follows him silently, holding his tongue until they reach Shouto’s room. The second the door shuts, though, the dam breaks. “Is that what you wanted? Your father beaten in front of you? You never mentioned wanting revenge before. Though I guess Mom and I wouldn’t have understood it, so it makes sense to keep it to yourself,” Izuku rambles, and Shouto can’t even tell if his tone is accusing or not.

Rounding on him, Shouto feels frustration bubble in his throat. Finally free after years of abuse followed by an absolute numbness as he watched Father try to hurt him again and again without being able to reach him. “That not what I wanted!” he bites out, wincing when Izuku flinches away from his harsh tone. “I’m sorry,” he utters, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath to let out some frustration. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I truly wanted our attempts at a peaceful separation to work. But you saw him, that wasn’t working. And there’s nothing on this planet I want more than to be free from him. So I’m not sorry that I did whatever it took to get him out. I’m only sorry that you seem to be scared of me now. I guess I’m no better than him after all.”

“That’s not even close to true!” Izuku argues, hesitating for the barest of moments with his hands hovering nears Shouto’s shoulders for the living boy to lean into his touch. Shouto shuts his eyes and relishes in the warmth there, letting the words sink in at the same rate as the temperature indicating that Izuku believes them to be true. “You’re nothing like him and I’m not scared of you. I just wish it didn’t come to that. Plus, I’m concerned about what Katsuki plans to do from here. Something tells me he won’t be satisfied just living here with us.”

A glance at the door doesn’t provide any answers, not that Shouto truly believed it would. Thinking back to the encounter with Father, Shouto wonders aloud, “He seems to be bound by some kind of rules. Partially whatever I command, I think. I don’t know where the other part comes from, but there seemed to be something holding him back from harming Father unless Father initiated it. So I don’t think he’s as dangerous as he led you to believe.”

Izuku ponders his words for a minute before nodding. “I think you’re right,” he agrees. “I was more focused on making sure you were okay, so I didn’t watch them that closely, but that makes sense with what I did see…” He starts mumbling to himself then. Shouto would love to hear his thoughts, but he’s too quiet and talking too quickly for Shouto to understand so he chooses to just go relax until Izuku comes to a conclusion he wants to share.

That never happens, though, and Shouto drifts off to the sound of Izuku muttering to himself.

----------------------

The next two days pass far quieter and more peacefully than anyone could have anticipated. Katsuki entertains himself with scaring anyone who comes to the house, but he never actually hurts anyone so Shouto isn’t too concerned with it. For the most part, as long as the residents of the house leave him alone, Katsuki is content to just do his own thing. On the rare occasion that they do cross paths, Katsuki is his annoying self toward Izuku but he gets along well with Shouto. He listens to whatever the breathing boy tells him to do and even tries to joke around with him or, if Shouto happens to be downstairs when someone comes to the door, Katsuki even tries to get him in on the pranks.

On the third day, Shouto decides that Katsuki is just another kid in a situation he didn’t ask for and is mostly harmless. Once he reaches that conclusion, his family passes through his mind and he wonders if they’d want to join him here.

So, on day three of living with an actual demon, Shouto starts preparing to save his family from his Father for good.

“I’m going to be gone for a couple days but I’ll make Katsuki promise to be nice to you,” Shouto says, already packing a bag and barely looking up when Izuku comes into the room. “And I don’t know how quickly he’ll come back for me, but I’m sure Katsuki will keep Father out as well, so you shouldn’t have to be worried about that.”

“Where are you going?” Izuku asks, unsure about being left with Katsuki. But Shouto seems excited about whatever he’s doing, so Izuku can deal. Surely it won’t be that bad. Katsuki will probably keep himself busy terrorizing the neighborhood and Izuku’s sure he can keep it to a minimum.

When Shouto looks up and Izuku sees his smile, he’s sure that he’d do whatever it takes to keep it there. “I’m going to get Mother and my siblings. They’ll love it here and Katsuki will protect us from Father. Mother has always wanted to live in a small town and I just know she’d love you and Inko.”

Izuku nods along, happy to see Shouto so happy but then he realizes, “Are you sure Katsuki will allow them in here? What if he just chases them away like he did your father?”

Zipping up his back and hoisting it onto his shoulder, Shouto’s easy response is, “And lose a new audience to tell him how great he is? I doubt it. But even if he does, I’m the one who made him visible. I can undo it just as easily.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Izuku jumps at the new addition, flying away from the door and turning to see Katsuki sauntering in.

“It’s almost cute that you think you’re in charge,” Katsuki smirks, strolling forward and getting right in Shouto’s personal space. “You act like I’m your new ghostly pet or something but it’s the other way around, kid. I make the calls and you can’t do any more than jump when I say jump.” Right on cue, Katsuki possesses Shouto and makes him jump. The look on Shouto’s face is a mix of fury and sad betrayal and leaves Izuku wondering if he should feel bad for him or be scared of him. “Now why don’t you just relax and wait for your next command?”

Shouto’s muscles strain as he fights against Katsuki making him sit on his bed, and he jumps up the second the possession is lifted. Unfortunately, by then Katsuki is out of the room. “I thought I summoned him to chase Father away, not replace him as my tormentor,” Shouto grumbles, clenching his fists like he wants to chase Katsuki and fight him.

“There must be some way we can get rid of him,” Izuku says, though he doesn’t have the slightest clue where to start looking for that. “He must have some kind of weakness.”

Izuku’s heart falls when Shouto barely glances at him, shaking his head. “There’s no way. I thought he’d be different but he’s just like Father. He has no weakness and all he cares about is himself. I’m sorry I trapped you with him,” Shouto apologizes, shaking his head mournfully before dropping face first onto his bed.

Excusing himself quietly, Izuku starts to leave the room, not wanting to invade Shouto’s face when he’s sad. He just knows that soon enough he’ll be pacing and muttering to himself in an attempt to find some way to thwart Katsuki, and Izuku’s sure Shouto doesn’t want to listen to that.

Crossing the room, though, Izuku kicks something on the floor. Which is weird, Shouto is the least messy person he knows, there’s no way he’d just leave a book on his floor. Picking it up, Izuku inquisitively reads the title aloud. “Handbook for the Recently Deceased? Where did this come from? I don’t know that I’d count Mom and I as ‘recent’ anymore.”

Perking up, Shouto swings around to look at Izuku like he just found gold. “That must have an answer!” Shouto rushes over and Izuku hands the book over easily. As much as Izuku’s going to help, Shouto will feel better if Izuku lets him be in control. However, Shouto’s brow just furrows and his almost hopeful expression turns to annoyance as the book doesn’t open. “Is this even a real book?”

“It looks like a real book,” Izuku replies, confused and Shouto’s troubles. The other boy hands it over then, and the ghost has no problem cracking the cover. “Maybe it’s because you’re not deceased.”

Glancing at the title of chapter one, The Netherworld, Izuku decides maybe he doesn’t want to read the book right now. After all, he’d rather just stay hanging out with Shouto than go somewhere with a name like that. So, he hands the book over and watches to make sure Shouto can turn a page before handing over the reigns officially. “I’ll read it when we’re done with the Katsuki problem. Until then, it’s all yours,” Izuku offers and Shouto just looks between him and the book.

“Are you sure? This probably has some helpful information for you. Have you and Inko even gone to the Netherworld before?” Shouto asks, reading out what must be the first line in the book when Izuku shakes his head, “All ghosts must proceed directly to the Netherworld.”

Izuku shrugs and waves him off, “It’s fine. This is more important. Mom and I can do that once we’ve fixed all this.” Izuku doesn’t mention that he just doesn’t want to leave his best friend. Shouto seems to accept that answer for now and he moves over to his desk to hunker down with the book. Izuku’s not really sure what he should be doing, though. He doesn’t really want to go to the attic and tell his mom that he found information that could help them but he’s keeping it to himself for selfish reasons. So he just flops on the bed and plays with the little plush rabbit Shouto’s been keeping by his pillow ever since he and Izuku found out that it was still hiding behind the bookcase in the living room.

A few hours later, when the sun starts fading in the window, Izuku asks, “Have you found the chapter on exorcism or anything like that?”

Shouto’s silent for a few seconds before he hums. “I think so. I’m just trying to figure out if it’ll work with a demon.”

Popping up onto his elbows, Izuku’s about to stand up when Shouto brings the book to him. Izuku skims it quickly before shrugging, “I don’t see how it wouldn’t work.”

They meet eyes briefly and Izuku doesn’t need him to speak to know that it’s go time.

---------------------

The two have a brief meeting before they go downstairs, Shouto deciding that maybe Izuku and Inko should be out of the room just in case. Izuku doesn’t love the idea, but he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make Shouto happy. After all, he’s the one who couldn’t scare Enji away before Shouto felt like he needed to turn to Katsuki.

It feels lonely, though, when Shouto walks down the down the stairs by himself. He has to shake away the feeling of going downstairs to “train” with Father. Unlike Father, though, Katsuki barely looks up at Shouto’s descent.

Not wasting any time with negotiation attempts, Shouto jumps straight into reading the exorcism. “Hands vermillion, start of five.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work the way you want it to,” Katsuki cuts in, not even looking at Shouto.

Ignoring him, Shouto continues, “Bright cotillion, raven’s dive.”

Katsuki actually reacts then, standing up and taking a couple steps toward the stairs. “Seriously, stop it you idiotic breather.”

“Nightshade’s promise, spirits strive. To let the living let now the dead come alive.”

Finally, a reaction Shouto expects come, but from the wrong place. That screaming definitely isn’t coming from Katsuki.

Looking up, Shouto follows the sound toward the kitchen. “Inko?” he asks, voice breaking as he stumbles down the stairs. Inko floats in the doorway, her head thrown back and a green glow surrounding her. She hasn’t screamed a second time, but her limbs are stiff and her face, what little Shouto can see of it from his current angle, is twisted in pain. “What happened?”

When Shouto reaches Inko, he hestitates to try to hold her, unsure if it will cause her more pain. Instead, he rounds on Katsuki. “What happened!? This was supposed to be you!”

Katsuki smirks and comes forward, flicking the book out of Shouto’s hands. “You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand, kid. I even tried to warn you,” Katsuki says smugly.

Looking back at Inko, Shouto grows desperate. He hears a gasp from the stairs and in an instant, he’s being replaced at Inko’s side by Izuku. “Please,” Shouto pleads, not even caring about his pride or the fact that it’s been years since he’s let himself beg, “save her. I know you can do something. I’ll do whatever you say, just please fix this.”

Another scream cuts through the air and Shouto flinches. He can’t look at his best friend, he knows only hatred will be looking back at him. So he just stares at Katsuki, the other boy rubbing his chin as if he’s thinking about the offer even though Shouto knows the demon already has his mind made up.

After what feels like an eternity, Katsuki grins and nods. “Alright, I’ll help her. But there will be a cost,” he offers, a dark look on his face that would make Shouto backtrack if this were literally any other situation.

“Anything,” Shouto breathes at the same time Izuku lunges forward, crying, “No!”

It’s too late, though, Katsuki sweeps Shouto into his arms and whisks him out of Izuku’s reach with a smirk. “Marry me,” Katsuki commands and Shouto’s not sure what he thought the price would be, but it certainly wasn’t that. All things considered, it could be worse.

Izuku clearly thinks otherwise though, pounding on an invisible wall that Katsuki must have thrown up to prevent any interruption. “Katsuki, that’s too far! You’re making him marry you just to spite me? I’ll leave. Save my mom and we’ll go to the Netherworld. You never have to see us again. Just don’t do that to Shouto!” Izuku yells, fury in his tone even as his words sound like pleas.

Katsuki laughs then, dropping Shouto onto the couch before perching on the back of it himself. “This isn’t even about you, Deku. It’s more of a greencard thing. I want to be alive again and marrying a breather is the only way I can do that. You losers can have this house for all I care just as soon as I’m allowed to leave it.”

Shouto holds up a hand toward Izuku when the ghost looks like he wants to argue further. “You heard him, Izuku. What’s the problem if it’s just a greencard thing. Let him save her. Please.” All of the fight leaves Izuku when Shouto tacks on the last word.

Looking around with satisfaction, Katsuki asks, “So we’re all in agreement, then?” When he gets no further resistance, he waves a hand toward Inko, the woman falling to her knees and gasping in breathes that they all know she doesn’t need. Izuku rushes to her side, checking that she’s actually ok, and Shouto’s busy watching them so he doesn’t even see Katsuki’s next move.

All attention is drawn back to the blonde when he knocks three times on a wall. “Alright. I know Shouto won’t follow through with his end of the bargain if that useless Deku is here to talk him out of it, so I think it’s about time you two head to the Netherworld.” Slowly, a door appears behind him and creaks open, bright green light flooding out of it. Shouto watches Izuku and Inko get dragged toward it, gears turning and anger bubbling under his skin.

“You said they could stay,” Shouto argues, his voice quiet under the sounds of wind unfelt by the living dragging the two ghost to the other dimension.

Katsuki hears him, though, and he shrugs with a smirk. “I lie. Get used to it,” he says by way of explanation.

Invisible bonds hold Shouto to the couch so he can’t even try to get up and save the ghosts from the fate he made for them.

An idea hits him when they’re almost at the door.

“Can I at least say goodbye? Don’t I deserve at least that much?” Shouto questions, locking eyes with Katsuki. Izuku and Inko’s progress halts for a second while Katsuki thinks, and then Shouto’s bonds are gone.

“Fine, but make it snappy,” Katsuki relents, walking away from the door, surely not wanting to hear whatever sappy things Shouto’s going to say.

The ghosts wrap Shouto in a tight hug as soon as he gets close enough. “I promise, I’ll fix this,” he murmurs in their hair as he hugs them back. Adrenaline buzzes in his ears so he doesn’t even hear what they have to say, but the hug is over too soon, the ghosts being dragged away from him again.

Izuku goes first and Shouto doesn’t know if it’s fear or Katsuki keeping him still, but there’s a split second where he can’t move.

But then he is. He doesn’t think he’s ever moved faster in his life than when he surges forward, shoving Inko back into the living room and throwing himself through the door in her place.

The door slams shut behind him and Shouto is left in absolute darkness.

-------------------

It’s cold in the Netherworld. The chill bites down into Shouto’s bones and he hates that his first thought is wondering if Izuku feels it. He shouldn’t be concerned with whether or not Izuku could use a sweater, the gaping emptiness before him is bound to be more uncomfortable for Izuku than any temperature change could be.

Shouto shakes the thought off, or maybe that’s a shiver, and starts walking. He has no clue where he’s going, there’s only darkness surrounding him, but it’s not like there’s still a doorway for him to turn around and go back. Not that he would if that were an option. He came to save Izuku and he’ll be damned if he’s not successful.

He will admit, he wasn’t expecting to somehow be deposited in an entire other part of the Netherworld, but that’s not the point either. He doesn’t let himself think that maybe he’ll never see Izuku again. Instead, he skips that part of the journey entirely and starts wondering about what to do when he does find Izuku and they go home. He ponders over what to do with Katsuki the entire time he walks, never quite settling on a stellar plan.

Eventually, when his fingers are just starting to go numb despite being jammed into his armpits due to a lack of pockets, he sees light. He wonders briefly if this is the light they talk about seeing when you die, but then he hears a voice that makes all thought lose his head. He’s too far still to hear words, but that’s definitely Izuku’s voice talking to someone, or possibly arguing, and Shouto is sprinting toward it as fast as he can.

The light seemed so far away at first, but now it’s so sudden. Almost as if it was rushing toward him even as Shouto ran toward it. The idea makes no sense, but then again, neither does anything else in the Netherworld.

When Shouto comes crashing in, he nearly trips over his own feet trying to stop so suddenly. But he doesn’t even care, he’s just so relieved to see Izuku.

“Shouto!” Izuku gasps, and it’s as if everything else just disappears in that moment for the ghost. “How did you even get here? And do you know where Mom is?”

Izuku rushes to Shouto’s side and wraps him in a hug immediately. “I followed you in,” Shouto breathes out, then pausing to catch his breath. Izuku holds Shouto at arm’s length away then and Shouto sees the million questions on his lips so he simply holds up a finger, needing a second to catch up before he can handle that. He must be smiling, though, because Izuku slowly starts grinning back at him. “I couldn’t just let Katsuki send you away like that so I stole your mom’s place. She’s still at your house,” he finally explains when he gets his breath back.

He can’t help himself then, Izuku starts laughing and he has to pull Shouto in for another hug before it turns to crying. Shouto is so hot everywhere they make contact, and that just makes Izuku cry even harder. “Why would you do something like that? We would have come back for you,” Izuku questions even though he’s so happy that Shouto came for him. Thrilled that the boy cares enough to save them both.

Shouto shrugs, and the minute drop in temperature tells Izuku that he does know exactly why he did it, but Izuku will save pressing it for later.

“This is touching and all,” a woman cuts in and when Shouto glances over, he sees a girl with long black hair, green skin, and a sash reading ‘Miss Argentina’ watching them in confusion, “but what, exactly, is happening right now?” Shouto doesn’t even have a chance to answer, too distracted by the fact that somehow, he’s now in an office of some sort. Or a reception area at the very least, judging by the chairs opposite the counter that the woman’s standing in front of. Only one chair is occupied, a boy in glasses ignoring all the ruckus to read a book tucked away in the corner.

Izuku pulls away and blushes before bowing toward the woman. “I’m sorry, Miss Argentina, this is Shouto. He moved into the house Mom and I were haunting and I guess he’s the reason Mom’s not here. I apologize for trying to argue with you that she was earlier.”

The woman seems to stop listening to Izuku halfway through, her brows raising as she takes in Shouto. “This is a breather, you said?” she questions, coming closer to inspect him better. When Izuku nods, she almost seems to jerk away. “You need to get out of here right now. If Mitsuki sees you, you won’t be breathing for much longer. And you’re far to cute to die so young.”

“There’s a breather here?” another voice asks and Shouto looks over at the boy, now noticing glass and metal protruding from his body like he was just in a car accident, jump up and run over to see the two. “That’s trouble. Listen to her. You’re in serious danger here. Why would you come in the first place? Did either of you even read the Handbook for the Recently Deceased?” The boy holds up his now closed book and Shouto almost wonders how he was supposed to read a book he’s never even seen before.

Izuku nods quickly and steps in before Shouto can challenge the boy and ask that. “We’ll gladly be on our way back home now. There’s no need for trouble.” He fumbles then to pull a piece of chalk from his pocket and Shouto will need to ask him later where he even got that.

“Thank you for keeping him safe until I got here,” Shouto says to the woman while Izuku hastily starts drawing on a wall.

Before Miss Argentina can even respond, let alone Izuku being able to finish drawing the doorway, a woman yells, “Has anyone seen my useless son? What is he up to now?”

Shouto has no idea what’s happening, but the two Netherworldly beings freeze. Then they look at each other in fear. Then they’re hastily trying to hide Shouto from whatever woman just yelled and is clearly on her way to the room they’re in now. Shouto doesn’t know where she’s coming from, but he guesses he should stop trying to make sense of this place.

When he’s roughly grabbed and shoved toward Izuku, Shouto finally looks toward where he was standing and he sees a door right behind where he just was swing open. Striding through is a woman with spiky yellow hair, red eyes, and a gash that’s hard to ignore going across her neck. Shouto can’t help but think of Katsuki when he looks at her and he wonders if Katsuki is the ‘useless son’ she just yelled about.

He can’t get any answers, though, as suddenly he’s being yanked through the door and then he and Izuku are standing in the attic of their home. They share one look before they’re hugging again, and Shouto revels in the feel of the cold boy in his arms, even as the rest of him is tingling from warming up too quickly.

“I’m happy we’re home,” Izuku utters after a moment’s peace, “but what are we going to do about Katsuki? He won’t let you live if you don’t marry him, but I won’t let him kill you, either.”

Shouto pulls away just enough for Izuku to see him smirk and he says, “I have a plan.”

--------------------

“Oh, Katsuki!” Shouto calls, making his voice soft and inviting. He first focuses on making sure Katsuki is looking at him, then he looks at the demented carnival game he has Inko trapped in. She seems suspending in some sort of dunk tank, but Shouto is sure that whatever she’d fall into when Katsuki gets bored of playing and hits the mark will hurt a lot more than water.

Descending the stairs, Shouto walks straight up to Katsuki and throws an arm around his shoulder, leaning against the slightly shorter boy. “What do you want, Half ‘n Half?” Katsuki scowls, shoving Shouto off of him immediately. Shouto makes sure to hold his attention, though, refusing to look over Katsuki’s shoulder to where Izuku helps his mom escape the dunk tank.

Shouto frowns, feigning a pout and holds his hand up, palms out, to try and placate Katsuki. “I got a chance to think when I was in the Netherworld. And during that time, I realized that you are actually pretty attractive. So I would like to marry you.”

Katsuki scoffs and stomps toward Shouto, stopping inches away from his face. “Stop the bullshit,” he growls, giving Shouto a hard shove in the shoulders and making him stumble back, falling on his butt.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto stands back up and dusts himself off. This clearly angers Katsuki, but that will just make it easier. “Fine. I realized that Izuku actually is useless. But marrying you could give me the power I need. It’s a win/win.”

“And why should I believe you?” Katsuki sneers, but he doesn’t make a move against Shouto, so they must be getting somewhere.

Shouto shrugs and takes a step toward Katsuki again, testing him. When there’s no reaction, he says, “My dad will be back again. I need a way to keep him out. You know I don’t need any motive other than that and you’re the only one who can help me do that.”

Katsuki seems like he’s almost swayed but then Shouto throws in, “Plus, wouldn’t you just love to prove that you’re better than Deku? He could never convince a living person to marry him, yet you’ve got me here practically begging for it.”

That’s all it takes. Katsuki nods and snaps his fingers and just like that, they’re in bright red tuxedos that could not be more uncomfortable and a small gargoyle looking creature is emerging from the woodwork. Katsuki doesn’t even give the creature time to speak, simply snapping out, “I do,” and looking expectantly for Shouto to do the same. Shouto says it back and, with another poof, the creature is gone again, along with all the contraptions Katsuki created when he was waiting for Shouto and Izuku to return.

“Did it work?” Shouto asks, looking expectantly at Katsuki. He looks more alive, his face actually pink instead of blue tinged white, but that could mean nothing.

But then Katsuki laughs and it’s not the sarcastic sound Shouto is used to from him. No. This sound actually joyful. “Oh yeah, here we go!” Katsuki cheers and he’s so excited, Shouto almost wants to call off the rest of his plan. Would it really hurt anything to just let Katsuki be alive? “I forgot how it felt to… feel,” Katsuki says then, the grin still on his face.

Izuku steps forward then, a smile on his own face, and Shouto can tell just by looking at him that he’s having the same doubts as Shouto. “I’m glad it worked, Katsuki,” he congratulates but the second Katsuki looks at him, the smile drops and he practically snarls at Izuku.

“No one asked you, Deku. Why don’t you just go to the Netherworld?” Katsuki snaps and, oh yeah, that’s why Shouto doesn’t want to keep him around. “I know how to send you there, you know. The fact that I’m alive now changes nothing.”

All it takes is Katsuki prowling a single step toward Izuku. In and instant, Shouto is reaching for the fireplace poker and surging forward all in one motion. Katsuki either doesn’t hear him coming or doesn’t have time to respond, but either way, the poker is soon sticking out of his back as he falls forward.

Shouto barely hears Inko’s gasp, clearly not completely up to speed with the plan, and he pulls the poker out of Katsuki’s back even as his attention is already turning toward Izuku. “You almost wanted to just go with it too, didn’t you?” Izuku asks, his eyes still on the blond boy on the floor.

Shrugging, Shouto tosses the poker to the side and takes a few steps away. He knows this is his own plan, but now that he’s done and he sees that Izuku clearly feels some sort of remorse, he can’t help but feel guilty. “How am I different from my father?” he asks, his voice low and he’s not sure if he even means for other people to hear him.

“Shouto!” Izuku gasps, rushing forward and stopping just short of putting his hands on Shouto’s shoulders. Shouto doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s ok to touch him, but he also doesn’t move away. Izuku closes the gap then, still giving Shouto a chance to pull away, and when he moves forward into the touch he just reenforces Izuku’s suspicion that Shouto doesn’t know how to ask for physical affection, but he will be clear when doesn’t want it. “Your father hurt people for no reason. Katsuki is a literal demon. If you didn’t do what you did, it would only be a matter of time until he did much worse to a lot of innocent people. I’m so-”

Supportive words are cut off by a bang and fog pouring into the room. Izuku and Shouto both jump at the sound, immediately looking to Katsuki, who’s still laying on the floor. Though, they don’t really know if his body will stay there or not. No one really warned them what would happen after they killed a demon that they brought back to life. Will they have to dispose of a dead body somehow?

“Excuse me,” Inko starts, dragging the boys’ attention back to the origin of the fog, where blond woman from the Netherworld is walking through. “Who are you and why are you in my home?”

Red eyes narrow and the woman completely ignores Inko, instead sweeping the room until they settle on Shouto. “You,” she snarls, finger pointing as she stomps over to him, “You’re the breather who came to the Netherworld. That’s not how things work, kid. If you want in the Netherworld, you’ve gotta be dead.”

The woman doesn’t even notice Inko stepping forward then, and she crashes directly into her when Inko plants herself between the woman and Shouto. She turns her glare on Inko and she’s opened her mouth to turn her rage on her as well when Inko cuts in. “I still don’t know who you are but you can leave now. There is no way you are going to be harming a single hair on either of those boys heads.”

At Inko’s harsh tone, the woman blinks in confusion before smirking. Shouto doesn’t understand how she’s still so confident, he’s terrified of Inko in this moment and her rage isn’t even directed at him. He’s also happy that he can’t see her face, but her hair is writhing around her head like a mass of snakes and she’s a feint green color is emanating from her body.

“I see you learned how to haunt. How cute,” the Netherworlder taunts before reaching out to push Inko to the side. That is, she tries to before she gets distracted by the body on their floor. “You killed my son? He got some sucker to bring him back to life just to get himself killed again?”

Finally, a groan sounds from Katsuki’s direction and Shouto spares a glance to see that he’s pushing himself up, as if summoned by his mother noticing him. “You stabbed me in the back?” he asks, exasperation dripping from his tone. He turns to look at his killer only to get distracted by the newest addition to the group. “What are you doing here, you old hag?”

“Katsuki, you brat! Get yourself to the Netherworld right now!” his mother snaps, Shouto apparently forgotten in her rage at her own son.

Katsuki just scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “These guys are pretty entertaining, even if they did kill me. I think I’m gonna hang out here,” he challenges and Shouto can’t not notice the way he flinches back when his mother easily side steps Inko to stalk toward him. It reminds him a little too much of himself and Father.

There’s no thought process, Shouto’s just moving the next second, trying to get between a boy and his abusive parent like he wishes anyone would have done for him.

Inko beats him there. She’s floating now so she’s the same height as Katsuki’s mother and the glow around her body is a lot brighter now. Not to mention the light shining out of her eyes that would surely blind someone if they looked straight at it. “Get. Out. Of. My. House!” Inko commands and just like that, the woman is shot back like she’s being pushed by a strong gust of wind. She just barely manages to catch herself in the doorway to the Netherworld, but the door slams shut before she can get a single other word out.

Just like that, the glowing is gone, and Inko drops to the floor and rounds on Katsuki. He balks when she puts her hands on each of his cheeks, stopping him from moving away while she inspects him. “You will have to shape up a little and be nicer to my boys. But if you would like to, you can stay here and I will make sure that woman never hurts you again,” she promises, her eyes locked with Katsuki’s. “If you’d rather move on, you’re welcome to do that, too. There’s no pressure, but my offer will always be open. As long as you promise not to kill any more people.”

Katsuki rips his face out of her hands and looks anywhere other than at any of the people in the room. “One of your boys literally just killed me,” he mutters, but he clearly realizes the fault in pointing that out when Inko’s gaze hardens and they all flash back to moments before that when Katsuki threatened Izuku’s existence. “Fine. I promise.”

With a smile and a nod, Inko stands up and looks at Izuku and Shouto. “Quite an exciting day we’ve had, huh? Why don’t we all just get cleaned up and reconvene for dinner?”

----------------

“Hey, Izuku, can I talk to you for a second?” Shouto asks after he cleans up in his room, seeing Izuku going downstairs to meet his mom in the kitchen.

Smiling up at him, Izuku pauses on the landing. “Of course, what’s up?”

Shouto hurries down the stairs to stand with Izuku, suddenly more scared of this conversation than anything else that’s happened since he moved into a haunted house. “I’m going to ask you a question. It might be crazy or dumb or something that’ll make you hate me, but I need to know the answer,” he starts, trying to steel his nerves.

Izuku laughs then, grabbing Shouto’s hands, making Shouto look at him. “Nothing could ever make me hate you. Now, what’s got you so worked up that you’re practically on fire?”

“If getting married brought Katsuki back to life, do you think it could bring you back?” Shouto asks, his nerves showing through in a cracked voice even though his eyes never leave Izuku’s and his hands are steady where they’re connected to the ghost’s.

Izuku jerks back in surprise, his hands nearly losing form for a second, only staying real from the heat emanating from Shouto. The surety in that heat shocks Izuku and he starts shaking his head before he can even think of words to say. Shouto’s eyes stay firm, though, and he patiently waits for Izuku’s explanation before pushing the matter. “You can’t marry me!” Izuku finally cries. He can’t believe this is even happening, especially since Shouto still seems so sure of his choice, his hands squeezing briefly like he’s reminding Izuku that he’s gonna need more than that if he’s going to be dissuaded. “You’re alive, Shouto! And you’re 15 years old. Don’t throw that away on a ghost. I can be here for you just like this, I don’t need life.” The words hurt Izuku to say and if he could cry, surely he would be by now. He has to look away, the intensity in Shouto’s gaze is making it hard for him to stand firm here.

“You said it yourself the other night,” Shouto says, “if we had met when we were alive, you’d have a crush on me. I know I like you, Izuku. And you don’t have to stay with me forever, but can’t you at least take another chance at being alive?”

Izuku’s heart breaks because he knows Shouto’s being serious, he always is. But still, “What happens when you get bored with me?” The words come out in a whisper, but they feel so much louder when Izuku never meant to say them at all.

The warmth leaves Izuku’s hands and he almost wishes he could cry now that he is alone. Utterly alone. But then it appears on his cheeks and he’s being forced to look at Shouto.

“I will never be bored of you, Izuku. But you deserve the chance to get bored of me.” The truth of that statement burns and Izuku wonders if that would be painful if he could still feel things like physical pain. “Besides, you heard what Katsuki said, it’s a green card thing. If you don’t want to be with me romantically, the marriage isn’t even legal for the living world anyway.”

Finally, Izuku hiccups a laugh and he begins to think this might actually be an okay idea. He’s just about to nod, about to give his consent to a lifetime of being tied to Shouto, when he hears a creak behind him and both himself and Shouto jerk their gazes to the creaky floorboard in the living room. Looking up at them is Inko, and much like Izuku, she looks like she would be crying if they should.

Shouto looks back to Izuku and he sees the conflict raging in him. He’s not stupid, he knows that Izuku feels guilty for his mom’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised if Izuku chose to stay dead just for his mother’s sake, even though Shouto knows Inko would never approve of that choice. He resigns himself to the rejection even before Izuku looks back to him with heartbreak in his eyes but a shaky smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, Shouto, but I can’t.” And with that, he’s gone. When Shouto looks back down the stairs, Inko is gone too.

Slowly, Shouto trudges his way to his room. He knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help being upset. All he wants to do is repay Izuku for all the help he’s given him in the last week of living together. Plus, it wouldn’t be terrible to have an actual friend for the first time in his life when he starts school in a few weeks. Shouto crashes into his bed, not even bothering to change out of his wedding tux, and soon enough he decides he deserves the discomfort of the outfit. After all, it’s got nothing on how he must have made Izuku feel, trying to shove his feelings onto the boy. After all, Izuku already has so much of his own troubles, not to mention how much he’s already taken on for Shouto, he shouldn’t have to take that on too.

That thought process can only go on for so long before Shouto has to drag himself out of bed and toward the stairs. There is a single moment when he reaches them and Shouto almost goes down. In that moment, he wonders if it’d be for the best to just leave the Midoriyas and not burden them anymore, even with something as seemingly simple as a goodbye. But then he thinks about how sad he would be if he never saw Izuku again and he knows he has to at least tell them why he’s leaving. So up he goes.

When Shouto reaches the attic, the Midoriyas aren’t even there. Not that he should have expected them to be. He’d probably hide from himself if he were in their position. Looking around, Shouto wonders if he should just wait for them to come back or if he should write them a note to find when they return. Time works differently for them, so leaving a note is probably the smart thing to do, but he really wants to see them one more time.

Voices drift into the room, ripping Shouto from his thoughts. He can’t tell what they’re saying but he knows them. He follows the sound to the window, which he finds to be slightly open, and there he sees Inko and Izuku on the roof. If he didn’t know them better, Shouto would even say they were arguing.

“-eason to turn him down. I love you, Izuku, and I will always love you. You don’t need to be stuck here with me for that,” Inko says, tears in her voice even though Shouto knows she can’t produce them anymore.

“Why should I get another chance at life, Mom?” Izuku asks, his voice so broken that it brings tears to Shouto’s eyes for the first time since he got his scar. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled and Shouto looks back up from scrubbing away the tears to see that it’s because Izuku’s face is buried in Inko’s shoulder. “I’m the reason we died, Mom. If anyone should live again, it should be you.”

Inko pushes Izuku away and holds him at arm’s length by his shoulders. “Now, Izuku, I never want to hear you say that again,” Inko scolds, her voice almost as firm as it was when she was telling Mitsuki to leave Shouto and Katsuki alone. “You are not the reason we died. Just as much as I didn’t kill my baby by choosing to leave the house that day. I know it’s hard to accept, but this is just what the universe had in store for us and nothing we do can change the universe’s plan. But now it’s offering you another chance and if you turn it down because of me, I could never forgive myself.”

It’s obviously difficult for him, but Izuku slowly nods at her before collapsing into her arms for a hug. “But what if Shouto was just caught up in the moment and doesn’t mean it? I really like him, Mom, what will I do if he was just being nice?”

Shouto has no doubt that Inko knows the right words to fix it for Izuku, but he has to step in before she needs to. Climbing onto the roof, Shouto says, “I wasn’t just being nice, Izuku. I’m sure this is strange or unusual, but I would really like a chance to date you.”

Izuku jumps when he hears Shouto, but Inko just smiles at him and Shouto wonders if she knew he was there all along. “Are… Are you sure?” Izuku asks, wringing his hands and looking back and Inko like he’s asking both of them for permission one final time; asking Inko if he can really be happy and Shouto if it can really be with him.

Shouto smiles and steps forward, reaching for Izuku’s hands with both of his. Izuku knows if he reaches out for them there will be fire waiting for him, but he reaches anyway and relishes in the burn. “I went to hell and back for you, Izuku. I’ve never been more sure.”

Izuku laughs at that even though he knows Shouto’s not joking and finally. Finally he says with a certainty he doesn’t think he’s ever had before, “Ok. I’ll marry you.” Just like that, the fire is gone from his hands. With the intensity leaving so suddenly, Izuku misses the more gentle warmth and bursts into tears, thinking it was all just some massive joke the universe was playing on him.

But then, he feels the wetness on his cheeks and oh yeah, that’s what it feels like to be able to cry, and what’s that roughness on his cheeks. Opening his eyes, Izuku sees Shouto looking at him with concern flooding his eyes and a frown tugging his lips down. “I didn’t know you had so many callouses, too,” he says, reaching up to cup Shouto’s hands where they work at wiping away his tears. Just as suddenly as he came to life, a smile bursts through his tears and he beams up at Shouto.

The frown is wiped from Shouto’s face in an instant, a small smile of his own replacing it, and he leans closer to knock his forehead against Izuku’s. Izuku tries to keep looking at Shouto, but he’s forced to close his eyes when he can’t focus at such a close proximity. “Your voice sounds different now. More solid.”

“I was scared it didn’t work,” Izuku admits quietly, now that he can’t see whatever expression Shouto is making and he’s sure everything is real.

Shouto huffs out a laugh and nods, “Me too.” It takes real effort to pick his head up, and Izuku whines when he does, but he needs to see Izuku for real. Know that he’s really there. Dragging his eyes over him, he thinks he looks more real than before, but he also doesn’t really know how he expects him to look. It’s not like Shouto thought he looked dead before.

But then Izuku opens his eyes and they are so vibrant that Shouto can’t believe he ever thought that dull green from before was how they were supposed to look.

“So,” Shouto asks, and he can feel the dopey smile on his face that matches the one beaming right back at him, “what do you want to do now that you’re alive?”

#my beetlejuice academia #i'm thinking of changing the title to 'my hero beetlejuice'#because that's funnier #i'm so tired dude #this took so much from me

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