#you’re a fucking embarrassment and also a disgrace

[crippled-peeper]

@z1ish did you know that once they kill off all the mean scary ugly cripples that you’re next? and that they’re running out of mean scary ugly cripples?

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[paingoes]

Crash Out

Exodus

(Content: minor emeto, alcohol/drug use, insensitivity around addiction, physical violence, death mention)

===========================

“You are a disgrace, Paris.”

His hand raked back through the prince’s hair. It was the only thing keeping his face from falling back into the toilet bowl. A thin line of saliva and vomit dripped from his lips. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut in his grimace.

The chancellor bent down on the bathroom floor beside him. He pushed Paris back up into a sitting position, trying to keep him stable.

“Look at me.”

Paris cracked his eyes open. Even under the bright fluorescence, his pupils were huge. 

“There are a lot of important people here. Do you know what is going to happen if they see you like this?”

He paused, as if there was any chance he might actually listen. 

“They are going to withdraw their support and you will be alone. Do you want that?” He spoke to the prince like you would a small child.

“Leave me alone,” Paris grumbled.

“No, Paris. You have to go. You’re not going to embarrass us again.”

“We…are in…the fucking sky!” Paris said. The chancellor was surprised he could string that many syllables together consecutively. He sounded out of breath.

“We’re moving five miles an hour, you can raft-up. Call it now.”

Paris slumped against the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket. It took him ten tries to find the right number. He couldn’t even see the screen. By the time he brought it to his ear, he was flat on the floor, his body giving up in the fight to remain upright. The chancellor exited without speaking. Paris crawled over to lock the bathroom door. He pressed his head against the cold tile, willing himself to stand.

The chauffeur, underpaid for the effort, tied up the small transit to the entrance of the airship. The plank was lowered, complete with the hand rail. Paris pulled the airship’s door open, letting in the sharp breeze. He jumped back as something black and furry flapped past him. Its wings brushed right over the top of his head. He looked around wildly to identify it, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He rubbed his eyes. The hallucinations were not uncommon at this point. 

They took him back to the Thorn. He stumbled blindly back to his room, unaided, without any coherent thought left in him. He fell asleep not knowing. 

===========

As soon as he woke up, he knew they were in motion. The motion sickness was not an overwhelming feeling, not usually, but combined with the hangover it was enough to make him lurch. It was also not the plan. They were supposed to stay docked on the planet until at least the next morning. Well, he didn’t really know how long he was out, nor did he know what time it would’ve been planetside. His head burned. 

There was a harsh knocking sound. Paris winced. The noise hurt. He kicked the blankets off and got up to answer it.

“What fucking bills do you pay to be banging on my door like that?” Paris scowled, squinting out into the bright hall. The light hurt too. His eyes hadn’t adjusted in time to see the punch coming.

He reeled more from surprise than pain, but the pain was still there. There was such a hollow feeling in his skull; he swore he could feel his brain moving inside it. Years and years of combat training worked even without a head to follow. His hands flew up to protect himself.

But it wasn’t a fight. Another hit didn’t come. One of his advisors stood in the doorway. Her eyes were bright red with fury. Paris backed up, minutely, not dropping his stance.

“What did you do?” Her voice came out in a tight hiss. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” He yelled back. The words slurred a little; he’d bit his tongue. The advisor ignored him, taking another step into the room. Her hands were balled into tight fists, as though it took everything in her not to swing on him again.

“You. Lost. It.”

Paris froze in confusion. It? Something clicked in the back of his skull. His hand flew to his mouth.

“Oh fuck.” 

He’d forgot about Delta.

===============

He didn’t believe her until she showed him the pictures. Some of the bodies had begun to wash up on the shore. There was a recovery mission planned for the pieces of the airship, but after only a few hours there was no more urgency to it. It was a lost cause. There had been no survivors.

“You’ve got the luck of the devil, son,” One of the generals gestured to Paris’s chest. He said it without any warmth.

“How?” Paris laughed hysterically at the very idea. 

They’d dragged him in here. They weren’t letting him leave. Not until they were done.

On a purely technical level, he could have carried on without Δ-107. He’d been overreliant at times, yes, but Paris was not a bad strategist. When he was on, he was on. Losing that one massive advantage did not necessarily mean their side was doomed. But the sheer avoidability of the fumble was what had done him in. Everyone knew the story. He’d gotten twenty resignations before he’d even opened his eyes that morning. 

They were taking turns yelling at him. He’d been arguing back in the beginning, but the adrenaline was wearing off. He rested his head in his hand. He’d stopped listening.

“Where are we going?” He interrupted whatever it was they were saying. He looked around. None of them answered. Some exchanged nervous looks.

“I need to piss,” he stood up.

“Don’t leave coke on the mirror this time,” Someone called after him. 

Paris slammed the door shut.

==========

“Where are we going?” Paris had cornered one of the pilots. It was the one with the stammer, which wasn’t ideal for getting information out of, but he was simply the first one Paris could find.

“We are, uh, headed for the, uh, C-C-Celadon Quadrant, sir.” The pilot eyed the sword on Paris’s waist. 

A deranged smile forced itself upon his face against his wishes. He couldn’t stop laughing today. Paris knew in an instant that the war was over. It had ended in his sleep. He had woken up on the wrong side of it.

The dreams of betrayal had kept him up for months before then. It did little to prepare him for the real violence of action, the speed with which the mutiny was carried out. Celadon was the heart of Nezu’s power. Celadon housed the Lex Maiestatis – Empire’s High Court, within which they prosecuted High Treason. His eye twitched, enough for the pilot to notice. 

Even at the Thorn’s top speed, the voyage to Celadon would take a month. They could not expect him to remain ignorant throughout it. Nor could they possibly expect him to go willingly. Then what was their plan? 

Paris decided he didn’t need to find out. Every minute spent on the ship put him at greater risk of finding out.

“Drop me off at Absalom.”

“So, uh, we are, umm, not supposed to. Do that.”

“It’s my ship,” Paris snapped at him.

“Yes, but, uh. We have these, uh, orders. Um. Also. You, uh, aren’t very, uh, nice to me. So I'm not that inclined to, uh, do that. So.”

“What the fuck are you talking about!” Paris yelled, shaking him by the collar. The pilot didn’t falter.

“I think, my w-words. Uh. Speak for themselves.”

Paris’s eyes narrowed. He sighed. “How much?”

“I, uh. Want the Faith jewels.”

“Sure thing, princess.” Paris unclipped his earrings. He was wearing five of them right now. He dropped them into the pilot’s hand. “Happy?”

“Uh, yessir. We can’t, uh, dock long. So…be ready.”

============

Paris locked himself in his room. He’d gotten used to pulling all-nighters; the drugs could keep him up whether he wanted it or not. But they made him paranoid. He heard footsteps outside his room at night. He swore he could hear them messing with the lock. He pushed the dresser in front of his door. He did not leave for food or for drink, did not answer when they begged or threatened him, did almost nothing but wait. His hand never left the hilt of his sword.

There was a lot of stuff in his inventory and so little of it was going to fit into a bag. He packed the way he had for the research outpost — practical clothes for all weather, first aid kit, random hiking gear. The only difference this time was the way he filled all the remaining space in the bag with cash. It concerned him how little he had liquid. It was enough to keep him going for a while, but it was pennies compared to his actual fortune. Moving the assets around too much would arouse suspicion. He stuffed his remaining jewelry into the bag. He figured he could pawn it later, if it came to that.

There wasn’t any time left. The dread hung limp right over his head, not quite touching him. It was kept at bay by sheer crystalline energy. His skin felt like it was vibrating. He shoved the dresser away from the door, readjusting the pack, the sword, the flask. He took a final look at the room, trying to see if he’d forgotten anything. There wasn’t time. He slid out into the hall.

It was all quiet in the corridor. He was glad. He knew it had to be totally obvious what he was doing just from the size of the bag, but it wasn’t a long process to dismount. He could make it onto land in five minutes if nothing interrupted him. 

He hopped back as a figure suddenly rounded the corner, cutting off his route. Paris reached to the sword hilt on instinct, his other hand raised to guard his chest.

Simon stared at him. Paris briefly misread his expression as scorn; his hand tightened around the blade. But as the light shifted, he knew what he was witnessing. He’d seen grief on the faces of plenty of old men. He let go of the sword. Simon didn’t say a word.

He made it out into the open air. It was sunset on Absalom. It was also uncomfortably hot. The ship had landed by the water. He recognized the beach, though he had only visited once. He saw the spot where it gave way to the treeline. 

It seemed as though the moment he stepped onto the sand, the Thorn began to pull away. He felt a violent fear tug at his heart, an awful sense of finality. He didn’t want to watch it go. But his own movement helped. He walked across the shoal, listening for the way the water broke up on the shore. It was initially inaudible over the ship’s engine, but as the ship flew further and further away, all that was left was the sound of the ocean.

[ladysomething]

….some more fake max memoir crumbs? 🥹🤲

wellll twist my arm!! it's so far away from being posted I can give you one more crumb!

ps this was all written wayyyyyyy before the Lewis to Ferrari news, so obviously I haven't changed those details yet.

also CW for homophobic language and slurs.

"Now that you know all of this, I imagine it puts 2028 in a bit more context. 

After how bad our breakup was at the end of the 2027 season, I hadn’t seen Charles for weeks. He moved out of the apartment when I wasn’t even there. I returned home one day, after having been with Daniel in Australia for a week, and all of his things were gone, his key on the kitchen bench. 

On January 14th 2028, Ferrari announced that Charles was leaving them in the morning, and Mercedes announced that Charles had signed with them that afternoon. 

I’d had no idea about either until it was made public. 

Can you imagine? Six months previous, I had a ring. I was going to ask Charles to marry me. 

Now, I didn’t even know that he was finally leaving Ferrari, or that he’d managed to win Lewis’ coveted Mercedes seat. 

Going into the season was a mind fuck like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and that only made my father angrier. 

“See?” he’d say. “I told you that boy would ruin you. You let him fuck you, I bet, submitting to him like a true fag, and he distracted you so badly that you lost. It’s a disgrace, you’re a disgrace.” 

And you know what? I believed him. 

Charles had broken up with me, after all, and I embarrassed myself by getting on my knees and begging him not to leave me. 

Before the first GP of 2028, I remember seeing him in the paddock for the first time since we’d broken up. It made my heart stop, pushed me into a panic attack so bad that I missed FP1. 

I was so ashamed, afterwards. “Dad was right,” I told myself, staring in the mirror and looking at my swollen eyes and red cheeks. “You’re weak. You let Charles make you weak. Being in love is for losers, for people who don’t want to win.” 

I went into FP2, ready to focus on racing, and ended up so angry that I pushed Charles off track hard enough that the shunt totalled his car. 

I got so fucked up that night I was still drunk the next morning. I probably would have taken drugs, too, if I wasn’t so worried about the random drug tests the FIA put us through multiple times a year. 

Charles’ car ended up being so damaged it couldn’t drive in FP3 or qualifying. 

Charles himself got so badly injured he had to sit out the next three races. 

“Good,” I said, when I heard the news. Christian’s mouth dropped open, stunned at my dismissal. “He fucking deserved it.” 

“Jesus, Max. It was fucking practice. You’ll be lucky if the FIA don’t fine and penalise you.” 

I knew they wouldn’t. Or, at least, I knew it wouldn’t be bad enough to ruin my championship hopes. I’d been too smart, had hidden it too well. Even on social media, people were divided, trying to decide whether I was a bad driver, whether it was on purpose, or whether it was just a racing incident. 

I feel sick as I write this. I feel physically ill, remembering how proud I was of myself. 

Too much like my father, indeed."

[twopoppies]

hi, gina, sorry for adding this to your inbox. i just really had a hard day. it's okay if you don't post this, i won't mind. just need to let out something bc i'm really going to combust if i keep it still. so i just got hired as an hr recruiter in an architectural firm. and then suddenly, my boss appointed me as her executive assistant which is very far from the original job they've offered me. and yk what gina, being her exec assistant was too much for me. i booked her an appointment at conference room for the departments' meeting and we only have an hour because someone will use the room too at 3pm so i booked the conference at 2pm. my boss came around 2:30, idk why bc i was in the conference with other managers. when she came, i told her that we only have 30 minutes left and then she embarrassed me in front of the managers and literally yelled at me saying "well that's your problem! make a solution! what do you want me to do, then? you're my assistant, do something about it! don't waste my time!" and i was literally shaking, all eyes on me. i was so embarrassed, i feel my anxiety rising. that was such a worst experience of my life, gina. she got mad too when i told her i don't have an iphone and only use android bc she wants her schedule the exact thing that iphone notes has. i need to printscreen her schedule and send it to her. i told her i didn't have that kind of notes and she said that it's my problem and i should do something about it because she wants it the same. she yelled at me and points out i don't have any right to question her because she hired me. my family never once do that to me, so why would she? in the first place that wasn't my job, i am supposed to be a recruiter, not her assistant. i decided to do awol today. i told my mum about it and she said that it's okay, that my boss is such a disgrace and i didn't deserve all of that. when i left the office i was lirerally crying because it was too much. sorry for rambling, gina, and for my english. just really have to say this. hope you have a good day, gina 🤍

Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. That sounds like an absolutely horrible experience. And, frankly, she sounds like a horrendous boss. Is there anyone you can talk to about the fact that you’re being asked to do a completely different job than what you were hired for?

And I’m sure your boss thinks being an executive assistant is simple, but it’s actually something that’s really requires a fair bit of knowledge about how things work, and if you’ve only been suddenly plopped into the job, I can imagine you’d make a few mistakes at first.

Also, fuck her for telling you you need to have an iPhone. Does she pay you enough for you to just run out and buy $1000 phone? Honestly, if that’s required by the company, then they should provide you with an iPhone. Fuck that. Sorry. I’m glad your mom was supportive. I hope you can work things out when you go back to work on Monday. Sending you lots of love. 💕

[floatingdreamsinspace]

I have quite a bit to say

…as a citizen of SG. I voiced whatever I am about to say on IG a few moments before being suspended.

First off… How DARE you speak on behalf of all Singaporeans. Saying we’re “threatened” and what BS. What are we supposed to be threatened by? I am singaporean and I am NOT threatened by it, unlike you.

Secondly, it’s an alarm. Not “music”. Know the damn difference.

You said you don’t like religious sounds or music? Then why are you here? Why are you in Singapore, why are you even a citizen of this country? A country that prides itself on being a multicultural and multi religious country. You sound local, and if you are, that makes it all the more fucking embarrassing. For you. You can’t have your cake and eat it.

You said you’ll ban religious “music” here? Get out of the country then. You said you’ll scold Buddhist or Christians playing “music” ? GET OUT OF HERE. Because here, we live in harmony, respect each other and have the freedom to practice religion.

Imagine being so triggered, so entitled over a sound, when you can just walk away. Or put on some earbuds. If you REALLY hated it. Also, to call the lady a t**ror*st and “H**as”? In THIS COUNTRY? GFY. Your face shouldn’t have been blurred and you should have experienced full on judgement.

I wish I could strip you of your citizenship, PR or otherwise, because you are a disgrace to us, to Singapore, and what she believe in and stands for. Get out of the country. Who do you think you are, stopping people from freely practicing their faith in this country? You’re no arbiter, you’re just a fool. Even if you said you’re not.

And this isn’t to say that people can’t have differing opinions on things like religion. No. You have the right to not practice any religion or have negative thoughts about it, but if you’re opinions make you intolerant, if it makes you hateful and causes you to harass someone innocent, then we have a problem.

You can share your thoughts, IF it is in a respectful manner.

And then there’s THIS comment found on IG:

My reply literally was: I don’t know if you’re deaf or illiterate (the video had captions) but she said she’d scold Buddhists or Christians for doing the same thing! So really, she doesn’t want ANYONE to practice their faith freely!

[rebo-chan]

ok well I guess I’m gonna go OFF!!!! (A FEW WEEKS LATE BUT THATS OK I WAS VERY HEAVILY SICK) 

I totally agree with everything said about Gokudera here, his whole character arc is about how hes closed off to everyone other than Tsuna, and he really doesn’t value his life or anything that isn’t Tsuna. But this is something I think he grows out of, imo as the story progresses. It takes a couple tries as you mentioned, bc God he is one of the most STUBBORN characters in this series, but I really do think by the end he figures it out. “if Tsuna wasn’t vongola, he literally wouldn’t even find common ground with the dude.” I actually disagree with this, as it fits with his character arc. He comes back during the Storm Battle, not because of what Shamal said to him during training, or even what Shamal said during the actual battle. He came back because Tsuna spoke up, and it wasn’t because Tsuna’s the boss and told him to come back, because he argued with Tsuna initially saying he can’t disgrace Tsuna by losing. But he comes back because Tsuna says that he wants everyone to survive so they can all watch the fireworks together again, and Gokudera drags himself back collapsed and says, “I wanted to see the fireworks with you again.” At the end of the day, you’re right their circumstances and Tsuna’s position is what allowed them to meet and for Gokudera to bond, but their friendship grows beyond what their circumstances should have initially allowed it too. And there’s silly stuff that happens that helps them create memories with each other. I mean Tsuna learns that this guy is obsessed with conspiracy theories, has a very ridiculous way of approaching teaching that Tsuna can’t follow. The rest of his moments in his “character arc” were about his relation to the other Vongola members and the own trouble he causes. (Anime only Primo inheritance storm trial.) Yamamato and Gokudera vs Gamma was about Gokudera’s unwillingness to trust anyone that isn’t Tsuna, and how as a right hand man, that makes him unworthy because the family isn’t just him and Tsuna. From that point on, we see a Gokudera that’s much more willing to work with his family members. Merone base invasion, when Yamamato and Gokudera were going to get separated, Gokudera tries to pull Yamamato up. Then we see him attempt to help during Ryohei and Gokudera vs Gamma, of course in that case, TYL Ryohei tied him up because it was too dangerous for him to help in this moment. We don’t actively see him during Shimon arc, but he was the one who called Tsuna to tell him that Yamamato was hurt, and we hear Tsuna say, “his voice was trembling”. I don’t think an early on Gokudera would have that much care for the others. At some point, Gokudera shifted less a coworker to Tsuna and to a genuine wholehearted friend. We also see this again during Shimon arc, Shitt. P goes off about how terrible Tsuna is as a boss/person, and we see Gokudera say, “I know all that already lol. But he’s my boss, I love him he’s great.” < I feel as if this parallels what Tsuna said about him during the Storm trial very nicely and shows what Gokudera’s perspective on Tsuna is, since we got to see Tsuna’s perspective on him. We also see him ask Tsuna in Rainbow inheritance arc, why Tsuna came to them last to tell them the plan and Tsuna essentially gets super embarrassed and says that he kinda just expects that they’ll help him because he views them as family. The shift I think was really subtle and pleasant. I think Tsuna puts it really nicely in the final chapter where he says that not a lot has changed, but he has all his friends now. Like yes, Gokudera still views himself as Tsuna’s right hand man, he still thinks himself as under, he’s still stubborn as fuck, and makes so many mistakes and not much really changed but they’re friends now. Real friends. Sorry for going off about this!! Gokudera as a character is such a slow stubborn learner, but he does learn!!! 

Your favorite khr psycho analyst is back, for the first time ever it’s about Gokudera

[mindninjax]

Toy Box

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader (Roommate AU)

Rating: Explicit (18+ minors do not interact)

Warnings: Sex toys mentioned, Voyeurism, masturbation, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), overstimulation,

Word Count: 16.5k

a/n: Here it is! Roommate Baku! The fic based on this post here! I had so much fun writing this. Like... so much fun. I really really hope y'all enjoy it. Sorry in advance for how long it is I just uhhh got carried away lol. Very very special thanks to @hoe-doroki for being constantly supportive and super patient while I wrote this because it’s been a wip for MONTHS. Love you baby I hope you enjoy it. Anywhoo ENJOY

You are mortified, if that is even the correct word to use. You could open a thesaurus, find all other words that mean the same thing, smash them all together to make one giant word that meant the same thing and you still wouldn’t be able to come up with a better word for how you’re feeling looking at the package in the middle of the table.

In stark contrast to your horror and humiliation, your roommate is across the room laughing his annoying ass off as tears form in the corner of his eyes and he chokes—good, let him—on his spit. His words play back in your mind over and over, searing themselves into your brain with every repeated phrase.

“Well shit, if you wanted to be fucked by a huge dick, all you had to do was ask.”

Your roommate, rising pro hero Katsuki Bakugo, had just walked in on you seeing the very special package—also known as an 8 inch dildo you planned to have a very nice evening with, at least before now-—he’d left for you on the table. This man hasn’t uttered more than 20 words to you since the two of you moved in together about 6 months ago—which you appreciated in all honesty—and he chooses now of all times to make a crude ass joke? When you’re wallowing in your disgrace?

“Shut the fuck up. Not another word, Bakugo, or I swear-”

“What, you’ll beat me with the big black dick on the table?”

He laughs again, beating his chest as he hacks up a lung from laughing so hard. You momentarily contemplate jumping on him and kicking his ass. You won’t win,obviously, but with the surprise, you’ll at least be able to get a few jabs in. Instead, you snatch the dildo off the table, stuff it in your jacket and run to your room. You slam the door shut before you hear him say, “Hey, wait!” through his laughing fit.

You throw the dildo on your bed and crouch down in front of the door, holding your cheeks that feel like they’re on fire. You try to take a deep breath, rationalize the situation—there are plenty of embarrassing things that could’ve happened. I mean the two of you are roommates. He’s seen you in short shorts and messy bed hair before and that never bothered you.

Fact is, nothing really bothered you with him. It’s why you two worked so well as roommates. He left you alone, you left him alone. You had different friend groups, different hobbies, different lives. He was a pro hero and you were...a walking pit of despair with a shit but nice paying office job where you excelled at what you did but, it was not at all what you wanted to do with your life.

The perfect dynamic.

The only conversations you had were about the apartment and the occasional “it’s supposed to rain today, ugh” and “I’ll be gone for the weekend” over the very rare breakfast together.

Speaking of, he was supposed to be gone for the weekend and you were supposed to have the apartment to yourself.

In fact, that morning he muttered as you sat sipping your coffee, something about going to some training camp for the weekend with a bunch of the other up-and-coming pros he’d graduated with. You hadn’t listened much to why he wasn’t going to be home, but your ears did perk up when you realized you’d have the house to yourself. It coincided perfectly with the fact that the dildo your best friend texted you was supposed to arrive later that afternoon.

Ok, so you knew it was a possibility that Bakugo might see the package, but you were assured, had checked multiple times, that the packaging would be discreet. Clearly, you were mistaken about how discreet it would be. It actually couldn’t have been more discreet if it’d had “I’m a lonely single woman who needs some good dick so I bought a 8 inch dildo online” sign plastered to the package. You shake your head, trying to clear your mind of the incident and instead focus on why Bakugo was even here in the first place.

You can hear him shuffling around the apartment behind your bedroom door. There are clinking pans and the sound of the TV going, which definitely doesn’t sound like a “I’ll be gone this weekend” thing to do. Maybe he’s waiting on a cab, you think to yourself.

You stand up and stretch, grabbing your phone to scroll through your social media and also text your best friend about what happened. Maybe, she will laugh about it and make you feel just a little bit better, maybe it’ll just be swept under the rug once the two of you laugh about it and it’s over and done when Bakugo leaves.

“Right, when he leaves… I'll just pretend like it never happened and enjoy the rest of my weekend,” you say plopping down on your bed. You scroll through social media until you fall asleep, opting to take a stress nap.

When you awaken hours later, Bakugo is still there. The sun has set, your room is dark and you can still hear the TV playing. You’re groggy and a little fuzzy of what’s going on, but the incident is still fresh in your mind. Your stomach growls and you make the very brave decision to go out and make yourself dinner. You’ll just ignore him if he says anything about it—you’re good at that. Besides you two aren’t friends. You aren’t obligated to speak to him. So you change out of the work clothes you fell asleep in, pull on your comfy sweats and favorite band t-shirt, and place your hand on the doorknob. You take a deep breath before opening it and walking out into the hall.

The kitchen smells like some spicy ramen Bakugo made which doesn’t smell bad considering he’s a pretty good cook. He's sitting on the couch scrolling through social media on his phone. He’s wearing loungewear, which suspiciously looks like “I’m staying in” clothes rather than “I’m waiting on my cab” clothes. He doesn’t look in your direction when you enter the kitchen and you’re actually kind of grateful.

You focus on preparing dinner, pulling out the pots and pans you need. You have soup boiling and you’re zoned out watching the steam billow up from the pot when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You jump and spin around, almost knocking the pan off the stove.

“Geez, don’t you ever make noise when you walk!” you say to him as you put a hand over your heart.

“Ain’t my fault you’re an airhead and don’t pay attention to your surroundings,” he says, shrugging. You glare at him before spinning back around to resume cooking. He huffs and clears his throat, trying to get your attention without touching you. When you don’t acknowledge him, he barks at you, “I’m assuming with how fucking dense you are, you haven’t heard about the stay at home order.”

You’re about to curse him out for calling you dense when you comprehend the rest of his sentence.

“The what?”

“Quarantine, because of the pandemic. The entire city is going on lockdown. No one is allowed to leave their homes except for emergencies. Companies are having employees work from home if possible, and they’re setting up a delivery service for groceries and supplies if needed. You should pay attention to the damn news one in a while.” He scolds you as he holds his phone up to your face for you to read the headline declaring the stay at home order.

So, that’s why he’s still here. You snatch the phone from his grip and scroll through the article, reading and confirming everything he just said. When you finish, you stare up at him as he watches you with that same dumb ass smirk on his face. It’s the “I told you so” face. You try to ignore it and give the phone back to him, asking, “For how long?”

He grunts at you, “Two weeks.”

You almost faint. Two weeks, stuck in the apartment with Bakugo who just saw the big-ass dildo you just bought and won’t be able to use for two weeks now, thanks to the pandemic. You’ve barely spent more than an hour with Bakugo and now you have to spend almost every minute of every day with him? You don’t know much about him, but from what you’ve seen today, he’s an asshole and annoying, so surely these two weeks are going to be a huge pain.

You take a deep breath before turning back to turn off the stove and transfer your soup to a bowl. “Thanks for telling me,” you say offhandedly, trying to stay casual and hiding the annoyance in your tone. When you don’t hear him move and you’re about to carry your bowl of soup to your room, you stop. He’s staring at you with a pensive frown, like he’s just realized something and it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“What?”

He pauses for a moment, visibly contemplating his next words before ultimately deciding not to say what he wanted. “Tsk, nothing. I’m going to bed,” he grumbles, turning on his heel and stalking to his bedroom door. You roll your eyes as you hear him curse to himself before slamming the door shut.

The next few days stuck indoors with Bakugo are just as you expected. Hell. He is by far the most annoying, stubborn, brash man you’ve ever met and you work with self-proclaimed genius businessmen for a living. He wakes up supremely early to do workouts loudly in the living room, he has no respect for when you’re on conference calls with your team throughout the day, cursing and complaining as he yells on the phone about the large amounts of paperwork he has to complete to his fellow pro heroes, and he doesn’t even have the decency to make two of whatever he’s making for lunch to share with you. Not that you’d eat it anyway, but still the thought counts.

You’ve been in so many arguments the last three days, it almost feels like you’re a married couple who’s on their last straw but are forced to stay together because of the kids.

He’s too loud, you’re too messy:

“Could you please keep it down, I’m on a conference call!”

“Oi, would it kill you to wash your fucking dishes after you use them?”

He wants to keep the TV on the news channels to monitor the rising virus cases, but you want to relax and watch Disney movies after a long and stressful day of work:

“You should want to be informed about what’s going on around us, idiot!”

“I think I’ve had a stressful enough day straining to hear my coworkers on the phone because you don’t know how to use your inside voice!”

He doesn’t let you know when he’s putting in an order for groceries and complains that you have way too much junk food in the apartment and you call him a food snob. The two of you are at each other’s throat constantly and you’re grasping at straws trying to find a silver lining for this situation.

It’s Thursday and the hectic schedule is calming down now that your coworkers are slowly getting used to working from home. You’ve set your workspace up in the living room at the tiny desk by the window. There are less meetings and you’re able to finish a lot of your projects fairly quickly, which keeps your days open enough to do side activities at home. You’ve put on the finishing touches for the huge project you’ve been working on that absolutely would have benefited from having all of your coworkers in the same room together.

You’re about to join a zoom call with your boss to finalize all the plans and move forward with rolling out the project when you calmly and very politely ask Bakugo if he can please keep it down for at least ten minutes while you’re on this call. He thankfully obliges, spitting a “whatever” back to you as he throws his shirt over his shoulder and walks to his bedroom.

You try not to pay attention to his back muscles, the way the sweat drips down them slowly and how he’s actually glowing from the morning sun beaming through the windows. You try, really really try, not to think about how, despite being covered in scars and old injuries, his skin still looks soft as he reaches out to turn the doorknob to his bedroom.

No.

No, you absolutely refuse to start looking at your roommate as if he’s a potential love interest. What is this? A sappy romcom? You’re not that horny, the quarantine is only for two weeks and you’ve lasted way longer than that without giving in to seductive thoughts.You turn away from his retreating figure, giving your head a quick shake as you type in your login information to ready yourself for the conference call.

Katsuki Bakugo is not hot. He is not attractive. He is just your roommate and you will get through these two weeks and everything will go back to normal.

Right?

This is not going as planned and in retrospect it’s stupid. Katsuki has made up his mind. Crushes, dumb lovey dovey feelings like this are stupid, a waste of time and absolutely unbearable. Not that you’d ever know he had a crush—or whatever he wants to refer to it as—but Kirishima and Mina won’t ever shut the fuck up about it so it’s only a matter of time before they blab about it and you hear one day. This quarantine is probably the best and worst scenario he could be in.

“It’s the perfect chance to sweep her off her feet!” Mina says sliding into the booth the afternoon they found out about the canceled training camp.

Katsuki rolls his eyes as he and Kirishima scooch into the large wrapped booth to make room for her.

“I don’t sweep people off their feet. This ain’t a damn romance movie. Plus, I don’t have any interest in a relationship, especially not with a roommate,” Katsuki says.

He can’t deny the attraction he feels for you, especially not to these idiots. He’d accidentally let those feelings slip one night when Denki was complaining about him not giving you his number. Ever observant Kirishima had asked why and the explosive blonde had conveyed his true feelings along with a string of curses and a face as red and flushed as a tomato.

Yeah, you’re not bad to look at. You’re quiet and not annoying and the fact that you’ve been in the apartment for six months and haven’t left complaining about Katsuki’s attitude is a huge plus. It’s true he doesn’t know much about you and Mina is right in a sense. This would be the perfect time to learn more about you.

He comes home that afternoon to learn way more about you than he thought. What better way to let your roommate know you think she’s fucking hot than by finding her 8 inch dildo in the mail. He won’t lie, it’s hot to think about, you in your room, just on the other side of his wall, holding in your moans so you wouldn’t wake him as you take—yeah, holy shit, 8 inches—into your needy warm–

No. No, Katsuki refuses. He’s not like pussy obsessed Kaminari or pussy whipped Kirishima. He will get through this quarantine without constantly drooling over you and when things go back to normal, he’ll spend more time out of the apartment and maybe clear his head of the ridiculous crush. People grow out of crushes all the time; he grew out of the high school crush he had on Mirko, surely he can grow out of this one.

Teasing you about the package when you’d finally gotten home from work hadn’t helped. You looked cute, blushing and scrambling to hide it and then threatening him after he’d spent a full ten minutes laughing at you. Four days into quarantine and Katsuki has definitely figured out his favorite pastime is riling you up. The two of you function so contrastingly differently it makes him grind his teeth in rage and the only way he’s able to feel better is watching you get just as angry and bothered. It’s cute and frankly he doesn’t have anything better to do other than the endless paperwork he has to work on from Endeavor’s agency, where he’s a sidekick.

It is also a welcome distraction away from the way you prance around the apartment in skimpy, tight clothes for your morning yoga. Katsuki is out of the apartment before you or just leaving as you wake up on a normal day, so he’s not aware of your morning routine. You wake up every morning, have a cup of coffee, then move to the living room to do an hour of yoga before getting in the shower. It would be fine—no it wouldn’t— if you weren’t so flexible and bendy and your ass didn’t sit propped up perfectly while you were upward dog or whatever. The shorts cup beneath your ass, the sports bra you wear pushes your tits up and every pose, every single pose, Katsuki has trouble not fantasizing about him tangled up with you.

And when you’re done and covered in a little sheen of sweat, tendrils of your hair sticking to your neck, you glow in the morning sun. As if he wasn’t already trying not to look in your direction. To get back at you, he works out in the living room around lunch time, shirtless. Katsuki knows he’s attractive and he’s seen you take second glances out of the corner of your eye when you think he’s not paying attention and everytime it inflates his already huge ego. So working out in the living room, grunting loudly as he lifts dumbbells and does push ups so his back muscles—which he’s noticed are what you seem to really enjoy, based on your lingering looks as he walks away—are defined.

This afternoon, you’ve stopped him in the middle of the workout to ask for ten minutes of quiet while you’re on an important call. Most of your interactions are full of snarky snide comments and rolled eyes, but he can tell you’re being really sincere when you ask him this time. Your eyes are wide, your eyebrows are furrowed and your hand is at your side playing with a loose thread on your pants nervously. This is important to you and Katsuki again has to swallow the rising dumb gushy feeling he gets when he realises it. He brushes past you as you stand in front of him, batting your lashes and speaking in a soft shaky voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll go to my room,” he responds as he walks off.

He can feel your stare burning into his back as he walks off and right before he closes the door to his bedroom he hears you mutter to yourself, “No, stop that.”

He smirks a bit to himself before shutting the door. Nice to know you both are in the same boat.

It’s finally Friday, which means the weekend will be here and you can relax and not think about work. It also means you’ll have more time spent with Bakugo without the excuse of work to stop you from carrying on a conversation with him. You’re not sure why you have butterflies in your stomach or why you’re not dreading this fact considering he’s been a complete asshole the entire week, but the idea of what he does during the weekend when he’s not out with his hero friends or working extra hours at the agency sparks your curiosity.

Work is easy today, most of your coworkers have taken off to start the weekend early and it seems like a pretty chill today. Even Bakugo seems quieter today. He’s sitting on the couch, earbuds jammed into his ears as he scrolls and texts someone furiously.You had a plan to make your favorite dinner tonight, spaghetti and meatballs, have a glass of wine, and watch Disney movies all night to unwind from the stressful week. You’ve been contemplating whether you want to invite him to join you or if he’ll just make fun of you and spend the whole weeknd closed up in his room.

You glance over at him as you continue typing your email. His scarlet eyes are still glued to his phone and he’s still texting quickly. He’s wearing his signature angry scowl but he also looks extremely bothered by something. For the first time since Quarantine started you feel something other than annoyance toward your roommate. You stop typing and turn to him now, eyes and voice wary.

“Hey Bakugo?”

“What I’m not even saying anything,” he growls without looking up. You smile for a second, amused by the fact that he knew you’d ask him to keep it down, but then you grow smug as you ask your next question.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to have dinner and watch a movie with me tonight,” you say cheekily as you bask in the confusion on his face as he finally looks up from his phone to peer at you.

“What?”

You clear your throat before repeating yourself, “I said do you wanna have dinner and watch a movie with me tonight? Come on, it’s the weekend, you got through all your paperwork, I heard you boasting about it to your friend on the phone the other day and you have nowhere else to go thanks to quarantine so why not?” you say, giving him a half smile.

He doesn’t respond for a long time, visibly contemplating his decision and you’re almost about to regret asking when he looks back up to you, crimson eyes glimmering.

“What movie?” He waits for your answer as you sheepishly look away and you know he’s judging you silently.

“A Disney movie, but I haven’t decided on which one, yet,” you mutter to yourself. He rolls his eyes and looks back down to his phone.

“Pass,” he says lazily and you puff up your cheeks.

“Oh come on! What is it with you and not wanting to accept the magical wonder that is Disney into your life,” you say throwing your arms up in the air. He chuckles as he watches you get riled up.

“It’s unrealistic. Who the fuck goes around singing what they’re thinking?” he retorts, raising an eyebrow and smirking teasingly at you.

“Ok, you have a point but come ON. Not ALL of the Disney movies have singing!”

“Oh really? Name one.”

He’s got you. You didn’t think before you spoke and now you’re rapidly filtering through every Disney movie checking to see which ones have no singing until it hits you. You’re also positive it’s one he will actually enjoy.

“Atlantis. It’s settled. I’m showing you Atlantis tonight and you’re going to sit and reserve judgement until the end,” you say, shutting your laptop and standing.

You place your hands on your hips and cock it to the side, waiting for his affirmation. You raise an eyebrow and purse your lips when he continues to stare up at you with the “You’ve got to be kidding me face.” When he finally realizes that you’re too stubborn to let it go, he sighs deeply, gets up from the couch to stand in front of you, and looks down into your eyes. He moves closer to you, so close you can smell his minty breath on your face.

“Fine,” he breathes and you blink in confusion as his soft tone catches you off guard. He smirks and you take a shaky step back away from him to move from his weird intoxicating aroma. You shake your head to clear your mind and smile in victory at him.

“Perfect. But first, we cook!” you say, skipping to the kitchen.

Bakugo follows behind you, watching as you pull out the ingredients for spaghetti and set them on the counter. His eyes widen and he scowls deeply when you pull two bottles of wine out.

“I ain’t drinking that bougie shit,” he says, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

You bend down, your butt poking out of the fridge to grab the plump tomatoes and fresh garlic and when you pop back up and close the fridge with your hip you quip, “Good it’s not for you to drink.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “You’re gonna go through two bottles of wine in one night? You’re a fucking alcoholic.”

“And you’re a tactless jackass. We’ve got the makings of a shitty sitcom,” you say back, not even looking in his direction as you gather the pots and pans needed for dinner. It surprises you to hear him laugh, it explodes from him like he was desperately trying to keep it in. You look over your shoulder and smile at him and for a moment it feels like the two of you could actually be friends.

“One bottle is to cook with, the other is to drink,” you say pointing to each one.

You fill a pot with water and turn on the stove so it can start boiling as Katsuki leans a shoulder against the fridge watching you. “What the hell are you making anyway?”

You turn to look excitedly at him and you can swear you see him shift his eyes away quickly and hold in an embarrassed smile. “Spaghetti and meatballs!” you pronounce proudly.

“Ew.”

“God you really do ruin everything with every sentence that comes out of your mouth, huh? You sure that’s not your quirk?” you sigh, turning back toward the stove to prep the oven.

You can hear him hesitate and for a second you think you might have hurt his feelings and start to panic. But then you hear him scoff again behind you and you’re reassured.

“Spaghetti and meatballs is fucking gross because there’s never a correct ratio of pasta to sauce to meat,” he fusses.

“Yeah that’s if you don’t measure and you’re an amateur. Look I’ve spent years perfecting this recipe ok? And it is—and I’m not being cocky—the best spaghetti and meatballs I’ve ever had in my life,” you say as you wash the veggies and start to chop them.

There’s a small breeze next to your face and you turn to see him standing and watching you closely. You almost jump out of your skin again but the warmth radiating from his body soothes you. He’s looking over your shoulder at the hand holding the knife and gives you a disapproving look.

“You're chopping them wrong,” he says in a softer tone that you’re not used to. It still has the annoying edge to it, but it’s almost as if he’s whispering tenderly to you, like he doesn’t want to scare you. You can’t explain the thudding in your chest as he reaches out, his huge hands covering the one holding the knife.

“W...what?” He stands behind you now, arms wrapped around you, chest flush with your back and breath hot and tickling your neck. He’s holding your hand with the knife and reaching around to grab one of the tomatoes.

“That’s not how you dice vegetables, idiot. Do it like this.” He moves you to chop the tomato, hands engulfing yours as the knife slides through it with ease. In half the amount of time it took you to chop a tomato, he’s chopped four. When his breath on your neck finally starts to raise goosebumps on your skin and you’ve shoved the impulse to push your ass back on him, you pull away from him quickly stuttering about having to change into comfy clothes before starting on the sauce.

“Why don’t you just… chop the vegetables… and I’ll be back in a bit,” you stutter backing up down the hallway to your room. You close the door quickly, your hand on your chest as you stand there wondering what the hell that was.

Your perfume still lingers after you’ve left the room, kind of like your presence is Katsuki’s mind.

Wait, what the fuck? That was so corny. Even if it is a little true. Your perfume does smell nice, and it does invade all of his senses and makes him act differently than he usually does. Of course it does. Not like he would’ve pulled that chopping stunt if he were in a clearer mindset. He blows out a frustrated breath growling, “This is so fucking stupid.”

He watches the bubbles in the boiling water burst as steam billows up from the pot. How do Kirishima and the others do it? No wonder they’re never focused at their agencies. Too busy thinking about thick thighs and soft skin.

Idiots.

Although…he isn’t at the agency now. And your skin felt so soft and smooth under his calloused fingers. Your hair smelled sweet and from the angle he was standing at, he could see a tiny peek of your cleavage. He was very lucky you pulled away when you did. The growing tent in his pants would’ve definitely been hard to talk himself out of.

He shakes his head, blonde spikes swaying as he knocks a fist against his temples. ”Get it the fuck together moron,” he sneers to himself. He has a goal in mind, one he promised himself he wouldn’t give up on and that nothing would stand in his way. He will be Number One.

He repeats it over and over in his mind as he continues to chop the vegetables until you step back into the kitchen, shoulders squared with a look of determination. You’re wearing a red and black oversized t-shirt that hangs to your knees and what he hopes are shorts underneath and not just your panties.

“Ok, let’s get cooking!” you say in a preppy too excited tone. He rolls his eyes as you skip past him and add the noodles to the boiling water.

Katsuki isn’t aware of how long it takes to prepare this gross meal of yours but he is very intrigued by each step and how thorough you are in carrying it out. You measure everything precisely, sprinkle seasonings, and meticulously knead the balls of meat into perfect little spheres. Katsuki is even more impressed that you complete all these steps while causally keeping conversation with him.

“So what do you usually do on Friday nights when the world isn’t in pandemic mode?” you ask, squishing your hands into the ground beef in the bowl.

Katsuki lets out a loud puff of annoyed energy, “Usually I work late at the agency. Take time to fill out reports and crap. You know all the boring stuff I’d have a sidekick do once I’m number one.”

“Right right, you’re a sidekick at Endeavor's agency, yeah? With that one really handsome hero all the girls go nuts over. Shoto. Endeavor’s son, right?” you say not looking up and sticking your tongue out in concentration as you crack an egg into the mixture.

Katsuki silently seethes at you mentioning Shoto. He’s definitely past feeling inferior to Shoto. He’d even consider him a good...acquaintance, but hearing you talk about him like that…it makes his eyes squint and heat rise on the back of his neck. You notice his silence and look up at him with concern.

“Did I get it wrong? I thought you were a sidekick for the current number one hero,” you question.

Katsuki takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, “Yeah I am. And it sucks. I wanna open my own agency already but the old man says I ain’t ready yet.”

“Well you aren’t,” you say matter of factly as you place the finished meatballs in a skillet to sear them.

“Hah?”

He looks at you angrily and you meet his eye, unbothered with the way he’s shaking and trying not to explode on you. ”Bakugo, you live in a 900 sqft apartment with a roommate you split the rent with and you have a temper that's more ignitable than alcohol… speaking of,” you say, turning to grab the bottle you’ve labeled as the drinking wine and take a swig. He watches you gulp it down with narrowed eyes.

“My point is, you’ve still got a ways to go. It’s not easy opening your own agency and you’ve still got shit to learn,” you say, wiping your mouth.

He pouts, looking at the ground as he listens to you read the hell out of him in the middle of your shared kitchen. “Tsk, I know alright? I know I’m not the most popular hero like that pretty boy Shoto and I’m not a smiley idiot like Deku, but I get the job done. That’s what matters,” he says, not looking at you.

He can’t believe he’s talking about this so openly with you. It’s so easy and he doesn’t feel like he has to hold back when venting about his frustrations. You actually listen to him, but you don’t show him pity like he’s weak. You tell the truth, even if it’s not what he wants to hear—unfortunately. He respects it, hell he likes it, a lot, and it makes talking about other things on his mind —no not the dumb ass crush—seem more comfortable.

You pick up on the frustration in his voice and your turn to look at him once the meatballs are cooked to perfection. “You’re not a bad hero, Bakugo. You just need to show people a different side of you. Ya know, let people know you’re not just an angry jerk. You’re an angry jerk with feelings.” You chuckle and punch him lightly in the shoulder and he can’t help the tiny smile he flashes back to you.

You’re smashing tomatoes in a huge saucepan on the stove, and humming to yourself when Katsuki takes a breath, gathering courage. “Well? What about you? What do you do on a Friday night?” He huffs trying to sound uninterested.

It doesn’t work, you stop mid smash and look at him in disbelief. He instantly gets defensive, eyes bulging and grinding his teeth. “What! You get to ask me my life story and I’m not allowed to ask about you?”

You blink and then put your fingertips to your lips and giggle—cute, unfortunately—before you respond, “I just didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t. I was bein’ nice,” he says, crossing his arms and turning away as you take another swig of wine and continue smashing the tomatoes.

“Right right. Well I’d probably be doing what I’m doing now. Making dinner, getting drunk and watching movies at home with my best friend. Or at her house,” you say.

Katsuki again swallows the jealousy he feels thinking about you spending time with someone who isn’t him. Will it always be like this? You aren’t even his yet.

Yet?!

His inner monologue is interrupted by you laughing to yourself, saying something about how horny your friend is and how she could use a few weekends to herself. He tries to quickly forget his slip up and singles in on the bait you've given him.

“Then you’re two horny peas in a pod,” he teases in a gravelly voice.

You squint and lift the wooden spoon covered in sauce up toward him. “Not a word about it you annoying little gremlin,” you say through your teeth. “Anyway, we’d watch a movie and drown our sorrows in alcohol and then fall asleep and run errands for the weekend. Start the cycle over and over,” you say sighing in defeat.

Katsuki doesn’t like your tone though. It bothers him, yes you're clearly being humorous but there’s some truth to your depressed tone when you speak.

“Nice to know I’m not the only one you force to watch those shitty movies,” he says trying to lighten the mood again.

You puff up your cheeks in that cute—fuck no stop not cute—pouty way and yell.

“I don’t force her! And for the last time, Disney movies are not shitty! They remind me of my childhood and my mom! And they just…make everything feel...less sad,” you say in a rush, that trickles off into a melancholy stammer.

There it is again, that sad tone echoing in his ears. He tries to hide the concern as you look at the ground sadly and then shake your head and plop your goofy pouty face back on.

Katsuki walks over and grabs the drinking wine from beside you, takes a few huge gulps, then winces as the tangy fruity liquid warms his insides and leaves him feeling tingly. “Ugh how do you drink this shit?” he asks, wiping his lips.

“I have a refined palate,” you say, snatching it from him and taking a sip.

“Yeah, clearly,” he responds, gesturing to the saucepan.

You lift up on your tiptoes to get close to his face and his heart almost stops. He can smell the wine on your breath, your eyelashes flutter as you blink slowly, the wine definitely starting to affect you.

“I’m going to make you eat those words when you finally taste this,” you mutter in a soft assured voice. Katsuki swallows loudly, his Adam’s apple gulping as he stares into your eyes. Your breath is hot on his face and he takes a safe step back away from you before smirking.

“Yeah I guess we’ll see then, won’t we Princess?”

The shit eating grin doesn’t stay on his face long. The shit’s delicious. Katsuki can’t find one thing wrong with it. Everything is cooked to perfection, nothing is too salty, the sauce to meatball to pasta ratio is indeed perfect. Hell, you even made it a little bit spicy just for him and it still is delicious. You’re both sitting on the couch now as you bounce excitedly and point the remote at the tv.

“I tolllllddd you,” you sing happily and Katsuki rolls his eyes for the fifth time.

“Yeah yeah I heard you the first time dummy,” he huffs out leaning back to get comfortable on the couch, belly full and relaxed.

He can feel the wine he drank—he had a glass with dinner as well-—sloshing in his stomach and tingling through his veins. He’s relaxed and enjoying your tipsy bubbliness. You seem really excited to show him this movie and for once he’s happy to indulge you. It’s a chill evening, the sun has finally set and only the light from the TV illuminates the two of you.

You’re both sitting on opposite ends of the couch, as far from each other as possible and Katsuki wishes you’d scoot closer. He momentarily contemplates moving closer to you but decides against it. Probably best to keep his distance, especially after how close you got to him in the kitchen.

The movie starts and Katsuki is instantly turned off by the beginning. The main character reminds him of Deku and the way his superiors treat him brings up bad memories.

It apparently dredges up memories for you as well. He hears you whisper, “Fuckers…ugh,” and Katsuki has to stop himself from laughing at you.

He can see you glance over at him during specific points in the movie, watching his reactions and facial expressions excitedly. He can’t tell if it’s the alcohol making him feel all mushy about it but he tries not to think about how happy he is that your eyes are on him instead of the movie.

As the movie continues and the action starts, Katsuki gets a bit more interested. He didn’t know people died in Disney movies and when one of the ships blows up from the weird fish thing attacking he nearly jumps off of the couch.

“Holy shit! You didn’t tell me people die in this! This is a fucking cartoon!” he yells excitedly. You smile big and bounce on your knees moving closer to him—which he absolutely doesn’t take notice of, shut up—as you squeal.

“I told you! Shit gets real in this movie!”

Katsuki is amazed that he’s actually enjoying it. When Kida is introduced, his eyes bug out of his head and you definitely pick up on it. You squint and give him a teasing smile, moving closer to poke his arm. It's warm where you touch him, almost burning and again he tries to ignore the sensation.

“You like her, don’t you? Think she’s hot?” you snicker.

“Shut up, idiot!” he screams, fanning your hand away as his ears turn red. You're laughing, holding your belly and leaning into his side as he grumbles to himself.

She’s supposed to be hot. Dumb ass animators drew her to be hot of course, plus she’s a bad ass and a fighter. He stops his inner monologue before it can betray him in comparing the made-up character to someone he knows in real life.

He is enjoying himself but there’s a pit in his stomach that hasn’t gone away since he first asked you about your Friday night plans. The sound of your sad tone bugs him, and he can still hear it. When the action has calmed down on screen and the two main characters are speaking to each other about their pasts, Katsuki looks over to you. You’re engrossed in the movie—this must be your favorite part—eyes wide as the blue light reflects in them. You’re right next to him now, not touching him but he can feel the warmth radiating from your body.

He coughs a bit nervously before he says in a gruff soft voice, “Hey.”

“Hmm?” you answer offhandedly.

“What did you mean earlier…uhh… ya know,... when you said these dumb movies make things feel less sad?” He struggles over the words, bracing himself for when you ask him why he even cares and he’s stuck floundering for an explanation, because why does he care?

“Oh, uhh well work is a disaster, my life’s a disaster so like…it helps to lose myself in a made up world where everything ends up being ok at the end.” You say this while shrugging and never taking your eyes from the screen. Almost like it’s natural, like what you’re saying isn’t extremely upsetting or like you’re not actually unhappy with it. Just like you’ve accepted it.

“Your life’s a disaster?” He stretches out and gets a bit more comfy, sneakily putting his arm on the back of the couch and therefore around you as if he’s claiming you as his.

You look at him now, eyes still wide but full of honest truth. He has a feeling you wouldn’t be this open and vulnerable if not for the wine but he’s thankful for it. He wants to know more about you.

“Well yeah. I’m stuck in a dead end job where I work my ass off for not enough pay. But I’m not gonna go anywhere because it’s something I’m good at even if it isn’t what I want to do. Plus I’m afraid of being a disappointment to my mother, which… I’m sure I already am considering where I’m at in life haha. But after a few years, I’ll probably move up in my company and get some recognition for all my hard work, and I don’t know, find a husband and settle down and have a few kids, because that’s life,” you finish, shrugging like it doesn’t bother you even though it clearly does.

Katsuki stares at you blinking and unsure of what to say. He stiffens when you suddenly lean into him, laying your head on his chest and sighing.

“Ahh but wouldn’t it be so cool to do something like Milo did? Go on adventures, see the world, discover new things. That’d be amazing,” you say dreamily.

Katsuki is shocked as he tries to process everything. Everything in him wants to hold you, pull you close to him and tell you you deserve that. Instead he only clears his throat and grunts.

“Tsk, you idiot. You’ve still got time to do all that shit. Your life ain’t over.” You move off of him to look in his eyes and he already misses the warmth your body provided.

“W...what are you saying?” you stutter, fluttering your eyelashes at him. He squints and then rolls his eyes.

“I’m sayin’ don’t rule yourself out yet moron. You still got plenty of time to do all the shit you wanna do. So stop sulking and go do it,” he grunts harshly before adding, ”And you’re not a fucking disappointment. I’ve heard you barking orders to those extras you work with. You keep them all in line. That’s not a disappointment. That’s good leadership.”

You blink in astonishment before smiling genuinely at him. “You know, you’re not that bad when you’re not being an asshole,” you say before laughing hysterically. Surprisingly he joins you and you both sit on the couch laughing with each other before you settle down and turn to look him in the eye.

“Hey for the record,” you say, getting close to his face. He doesn’t move back from you, gazing into your eyes as you take deep breaths and blink slowly up at him. “I think you’re a great hero and you’ll make it to number one in no time,” you finish.

Katsuki licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. A million thoughts are going through his mind. He wants you, so bad it hurts. It can’t be a good idea though. You’re tipsy and so’s he. It wouldn’t be right. Plus what if you're just like this because of the alcohol.

Your eyes are wide and he can tell you're thinking about it. He moves in a bit closer, can smell your breath and feel its warmth on his face. You smell so good he wants to taste you. His heart races and he bites his lip. He moves to reach up and caress your cheek.

A large explosion on the tv makes both of you jump in fright and you pull back away from each other. You quickly turn your attention to the movie and scoot away from him, clearing your throat.

“We’re almost to the end!” you say trying to restore the friendly atmosphere. But Katsuki knows there was something more happening. He won’t say anything, but it definitely won’t be leaving his mind anytime soon.

The thing about drinking wine, especially ¾ of the bottle, it means you will absolutely have to pee in the middle of the night. You always seem to forget that fact every time you drink, but when the clock hits 2 am and your body is suddenly awake and telling you to go, you’re unfortunately reminded. You stumble, eyes half open to your door, a droopy hand on the knob as your sleep filled mind thinks about the fact that you’re only in a t-shirt that barely covers your ass and panties. Nah, there’s no way Bakugo is still up, he’s an old man who goes to sleep at like 8 PM and when you both stumbled to bed after the movie it was like 11PM. He’s probably dead asleep.

You open the door groaning lightly to yourself as you stumble down the dark hallway to the bathroom. You’re so busy cursing your tiny bladder that you don’t hear the rustling in the bathroom and you don’t notice the door slightly cracked instead of being open to signal it’s vacancy. You tiptoe past Bakugo’s room toward the bathroom, put a hand on the knob, and waltz in before a breathy moan followed by your name stops you in your tracks. You’re confused, perhaps still a bit asleep, and thinking that maybe there’s a ghost calling your name?

You can hear wet slapping noises now, grunts and moans and whispered sounds of pleasure and your mind is now begging for a ghost to have been the one that said your name. Your eyes are wide open now as you stand frozen in the doorway.

Bakugo is sitting on the lid of the toilet, shirtless, pajama bottoms down around his ankles. His thighs are flexed as his feet dig into the cute mat around the bottom of the toilet you bought when you first moved in. His head is leaning back, eyes squeezed shut as his large hand moves up and down his very thick—yes you can still tell in the dark—cock. His hand is glistening with precum that dribbles down his shaft and the bathroom is filled with lewd wet noises as he speeds up and bucks into his hand.

The muscles in his thighs flex again and his pecks heave up and down as his breathing increases. He’s grinding his teeth, a peek of his gums showing over his curled up lips, his eyebrows are pulled together in concentration and bliss and when he breathes out and groans in ecstasy, you can see his Adam's apple bob. There’s a sheen of sweat over his body, glistening in the moonlight shining through the tiny window and the erotic scene not only has your pussy dribbling but reveling at how beautiful he is.

He sucks in a breath, still not aware of your presence and you can tell he’s close to finishing. He lifts his hips up into his hand again and growls through his teeth, “Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock.”

You blink, lick your lips, try to stay quiet until you hear him on the cusp of release groan your name, loud and long and you squeak giving away your presence.

“Oh my god,” you say, breaking the silence.

Bakugo’s head whips up and he stares wide eyed at you, cock still in hand, frozen in actual mortified fear. The two of you stand in shock staring at each other for what seems like hours until you repeat, “Oh my god!” this time with feeling and race out of the bathroom and back to your room.

That. Happened. That actually happened. You’re lying in your bed that morning, staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of everything. You know Bakugo is up, you can hear him banging around in the kitchen and starting his usual workout, but you cannot find the courage to get out of bed and face him.

You’re almost a little jealous of how shameless he is. He saw your dildo and you wanted to hide in your room until the dinosaurs roamed the Earth again, but you catch him jacking it and he gets to stroll around the apartment like he won an award for World’s Best Jacker?

Fuck it.

You get up pulling on comfy shorts and walking to the bathroom to pee—yes you held it the entire night after the incident—and brush your teeth and comb your hair. You look in the mirror once more before departing out into the kitchen.

You still can’t believe he said your name. Bakugo was fantasizing about you. To say you’re flattered is an understatement. To say you’ve never thought about him while you got yourself off would be a lie. To say that you didn’t spend all night replaying the scene and thinking about how pretty his cock was would also be a lie.

You shake your head, clearing your mind as you stare at his back. He’s standing at the stove making something that smells delicious for breakfast. “Ahem...good morning. That umm...smells good,” you say nervously.

He doesn’t turn around, just continues swishing whatever is in the pot around and replies, “Course it smells good. I’m cooking it.”

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Ah so this morning in the bathroom was just so you could reset your asshole levels. Got it.” You stroll over to the coffee maker, pulling out the coffee grounds and turning it on to make your morning cup.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he says, peering angrily over his shoulder.

You look at him in disbelief. Really? He’s gonna act like it didn’t fucking happen? Fat chance of you ever letting this go, especially after he laughed for ten minutes about the fucking dildo. But for now it’s too early to argue and you desperately need coffee if you’re going to get through the rest of the day.

“God, nevermind.” You press the button on the coffee maker and sit at the bay window waiting for it to finish. It’s raining today so the sun isn’t shining through the windows. The clouds block the sun and the pitter patter of rain is soothing.

“So uhh…” Bakugo starts and you almost think he’s going to be the one to bring it up. Instead he says, “I liked the dumb ass Disney movie you showed me last night and I want you to show me more.”

He’s finally turned around toward you and he’s holding two plates with an omelet and fried fish on it. He’s thrown you off again.

“Wait.. really?” you ask incredulously.

He places the plate in your hand then sits at the small table and uses his chopsticks to stab and slice the skin of the fish open. “Yeah, but none of the shitty singing ones. More ones with violence and adventure. And then tonight, I’ll cook dinner for you and show you my favorite movie, since it’s only fair.” He says the last part quietly under his breath.

You glance down at the plate in your hands, and when the coffee pot beeps you get up, place the plate on the table across from him and go to pour yourself a cup. You gesture to the full coffee pot, “Want some?”

He curls his lip up in disgust, ”Tch not a chance. That shit stunts your growth.”

You roll your eyes, turn back toward the cupboard and pull out another mug. You pour a cup, add a bit of cream and sugar to each and then walk over to set one of them in front of him. When he shoots you a pointed look you respond in a sassy voice, “That’s just a myth, idiot.”

For the first time in six months since you two moved in, you two have breakfast together and it’s pleasant. You learn that neither of you are morning people and you enjoy the quiet and rather not speak. You eat in silence, except for when you compliment and thank him for the omelette. He doesn’t even give you a cocky reply, just quietly says you’re welcome before grabbing both of your plates after you finish and washing them silently. He even drinks all the coffee but refuses another cup when you get up to pour yourself another.

You don’t know if it’s just because it’s the morning, or if it was the little heart to heart you had last night during the movie that makes him seem softer, but you like this side of him...a lot.

You watch him wash the dishes as you sip your coffee and again filter through the disney movies you can show him. You decide on Pirates of the Carribean—only the first three because anything after those you despise— and as he places the wet dishes in the drying rack you tap him on the shoulder.

His skin is warm and surprisingly soft despite the scars littered down his back and when he turns to look at you his scarlet eyes bore into you and warm your insides.

“Erm…Pirates of the Caribbean. That’s what we’ll watch. There are three of them so cancel all your plans,” You say smiling brightly and shimmying in excitement so much your coffee plops up on your cheek.

He smirks the cute little half smile you’ve come to find endearing. “You're such a dork,” he goads and uses the shirt wrapped around his neck to wipe the coffee from your cheek.

Again you’re both caught off guard by this soft intimate little exchange and Bakugo’s face divulges that he wasn’t thinking about what he did. Your face heats up and you turn away from him.

“I’m gonna shower before we start, ok?” You walk to the bathroom and shut the door.

You try and fail to not think about how Bakugo was sitting here last night, rubbing his cock to the thought of you while you turn on the water. A nice hot long shower will clear your head, yes.

You’ll enjoy the rest of your Saturday and maybe just maybe you’ll come out of this weekend with a new friend. Just a friend. When your mind wanders again to the way his back muscles looked this morning, you wrench the bathroom door open and yell down the hall.

“And would it kill you to put a shirt on?” When you hear him grunt a playful “Fuck off” down the hall you chuckle and close the door.

Fucking. Hell.

Katsuki slaps a hand over his eyes in embarrassment and relief. He’s dodged another bullet. You didn’t say anything about last night, except for that one sly comment. But goddammit this is becoming difficult.

You make it so hard to not like you, to not be comfortable with you and let his guard down. Watching that movie with you last night was the calmest he’s ever felt and dare he say he had fun hanging out with you. He curses himself for both not pulling you to him to kiss you and also wanting to kiss you. What if you reject him? What if you don’t like him as much as he likes you?

Fuck, that is entirely possible. You call him an asshole every chance you get, with good reason. He sighs and does what he always does when he starts to doubt himself, text Kirishima. When he doesn’t answer and Katsuki can hear the water of the shower turn on, he texts the group chat instead.

(10:42 AM): I fucked up.

Mina: Well good morning to you too Katsuki.

(10:44 AM): Good Morning I fucked up.

Hanta: You mind giving some more details?

(10:44 AM): Wait Mina you just responded? Where the fuck is Eijirou?

Mina: Asleep, why?

(10:45 AM): Because I texted him first.

Dumb Ass: Oh I see so we’re just your second choice then?

(10:45 AM): Yes. Idiot.

Dumb Ass: Why do you always have to be so mean?

Hanta: Anyway back to the issue because I am nosy. What happened Katsuki?

(10:50 AM): I almost kissed her.

Mina: Yay! That’s great! Why almost? Is that the fuck up?

(10:50 AM) No let me finish dammit.

(10:53 AM) I almost kissed her, but I chickened out and she was a little tipsy so it just felt wrong. But then…

Dumb Ass: Dude with all the suspense. Come on already, what did you do? Flash her or somethin’?

(10:55AM): ...

Dumb Ass: NO WAY.

Mina: KATSUKI TELL ME YOU DID NOT WHIP OUT YOUR DICK LIKE ONE OF THOSE WEIRD PERVY DUDES YOU SEE ON TRAINS.

Hanta: DUDE WHAT THE HELL?

Eijirou: I’M HERE YOU DID WHAT?

(10:57AM): Oh so the mention of my dick will wake you up?

Eijirou: Actually Mina’s yelling woke me up. Now don’t change the subject!

(10:58 AM): I DIDN’T FLASH HER OK?

Mina: I never thought I would ever have to type this out to you Katsuki, but I’m proud of you for not flashing your dick to your roommate.

(10:58 AM): Shut up.

Hanta: SO WHAT HAPPENED THEN?

(11:03 AM): She may have caught me… you know…

Dumb Ass: LOL She caught you beating your meat??!?!

Eijirou: You beat your meat?

(11:03 AM): DUH! I’M ONLY HUMAN!

Eijirou: That’s kind of hot.

Mina: Keep it in your pants big guy, I'll take care of you later.

Hanta: Gross.

(11:04 AM): Agreed

Dumb Ass: Hot.

Mina: Shut up. ANYWAY, What did she say? Did she like, see everything or just oops walk in and then shut the door.

(11:06 AM): ...she saw everything. I...said her name.

Eijirou: No fucking way.

Hanta: Dude you’re whipped.

Dumb Ass: I'M SCREENSHOTTING THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION AND SAVING IT FOREVER. THE KATSUKI BAKUGO GOT CAUGHT MASTURBATING AND MOANING HIS CRUSH’S NAME.

(11:07 AM): You screenshot this and I will end you.

Mina: WHAT HAPPENED AFTER?

(11:08 AM): Nothing. She ran back to her room and then we woke up and I made her breakfast and now we’re going to watch more shitty Disney movies.

Mina: Aww that’s kind of sweet. You made her breakfast?

Dumb Ass: Wow Katsuki makes a “sorry you saw my dick and heard me fantasizing about fucking you” breakfast and he’s sweet but I don’t text a girl back ONCE.

Mina: Denki you GHOSTED that poor girl. You get no sympathy from me, asshole.

(11:11 AM): Yeah you’re an asshole.

Hanta: Did she say anything to you about it this morning?

(11:12 AM): No.

Hanta: Then you’re good. Don’t freak out and enjoy the day. It’s obvious you like her a lot.

(11:14 AM): It ain’t that simple. What if she doesn’t like me?

Hanta: Dude she saw your dick and heard you moan her name and she’s still talking to you.

Eijirou: Hanta’s right man, if she’s still sticking around after that, it's kind of safe to assume she likes you. Just start there and don’t overthink it.

Mina: Yeah and next time if she moves in closer to you, grab her face and kiss her all romantic like! If she moves closer it means she’s inviting you to kiss her!

Dumb Ass: Yeah bro in all seriousness I’m happy for you. She seems like a cool girl and if you like her this much, I’d say go for it.

(11:20 AM): Thanks.

Dumb Ass: And then if you fuck it up, I can swoop in and be her knight in shining armor.

Mina: DENKI!

(11:21 AM): fuck off.

Dumb Ass: I’m joking!

Katsuki shoves his phone back into his pocket. Hanta’s right. You didn't seem to mind and you looked excited to watch more movies with him. He takes a deep breath in and out, calming his nerves. He hears the water in the shower stop and he prepares himself.

--

The first movie is a success in keeping you both enthralled in the action. Katsuki really enjoys the way you watch movies. Even though you’ve definitely seen them all many times before, you still watch them with the same excitement as if it’s the first time you’re seeing it.

It not only makes the movie entertaining but the experience of watching it with you enjoyable as well. Like last night he finds himself watching you more than the movie. You’re sitting next to him on the couch—not a full couch cushion away but right next to him—with crossed legs and wide eyes as you stare at the screen.

The two of you chat in between scenes and the fifth time you say “I fucking love pirates” while watching a sword clashing scene, he says it with you and you both laugh.

“Yeah yeah I know. You fucking love pirates,”

You spend the afternoon snacking on popcorn, giggling and asking each other questions as you watch through the trilogy. He learns your favorite color and about the time you accidentally shaved half your head and then wore it through most of high school:

“How do you accidentally shave half your head?”

“You accidentally shave one patch off and then keep going because you think you can ‘fix it’. It worked out though because I looked super hot and intimidating and no one fucked with me for the rest of the school year.”

You learn about his first hero name and about the cute little sailor outfit his mom dressed him in for pictures when he was 5 that you unfortunately talked him into showing you:

“Wait until everyone hears that “King Explosion Murder” took cute pictures as a wittle baby sailor”

“You utter a word about it to anyone and I’ll personally see to it that you never type another tweet again,”

Katsuki never ever gets tired of the screeching wheezing laughter you emit when one of the pirates on screen does some stupid shit, or the way you giggle behind your hands when he comments about how cool one of the characters is. Barbossa may be a villain but he’s badass and has the best lines.

The afternoon carries on as the rain continues to beat against the window and Katsuki only has to tell himself to stop looking at your thighs in the shorts you wear three times which is quite the accomplishment. You step out halfway through the third movie to answer a call from your mother that takes literally two hours and when you come back out of your room, you're smiling apologetically at him. He’s in the kitchen chopping vegetables when you waltz out.

“Geez took you long enough.”

“Sorry, that woman doesn’t know the meaning of ‘a quick chat’,“ you say laughing. You stand next to him, peering over his shoulder at the vegetables he’s chopping. “Whatcha making?”

“Spicy curry, full of vegetables to combat all the sweet sugary bullshit you pumped into my body today,” he says smugly. You hop up on the counter next to him kicking your legs as you watch him chop. You swipe a chopped carrot from the pile and pop it into your mouth.

“Hey I didn’t pump anything into you. I only have control over what I pump into myself,” you say, chewing and wiggling your eyebrows.

“I’m aware of what you spend your money on. Remember?” He teases, continuing to chop and enjoying the way your eyes go wide and you turn away from him in embarrassment again.

“Yeah well, I’m aware of your early morning activities so you have no room to talk,” you say back reaching for another carrot but before you can pick one up Katsuki catches your wrist in his large hand. His body moved before he could think again and he’s staring at you with a tense glare as your eyes widen. You look almost frightened and he scolds himself for scaring you, but he softens his gaze and loosens his grip.

“So you did see,” He grunts.

“Yeah,” is all you respond.

There’s a long pause as neither of you look at each other. Katsuki is still holding your wrist, idly rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. This is it. This is where you tell him to fuck off for being a perv.

“But…I liked it.”

What?

He tears his eyes from the floor to look at you and he finds you batting your lashes at him and smirking. He tried to keep a steady pace of his breathing but he’s tingling inside with anxiety and excitement as he replays your words over and over to decipher the meaning. His hand moves from your wrist to grasp your hand now and he watches your reaction carefully.

“What’d you say?” he asks, a devilish grin playing on his lips. He drops the knife and turns around to stand in between your legs. He sighs under his breath in relief when you open your thighs to welcome him in. You're cheekily smiling at him, batting your eyelashes like an innocent school girl confessing a crush.

“I said I liked it.” It’s a light whisper, breathy like you have no control over your breathing and then Katsuki is wrapping his arms around your waist, digging his fingers into your hips and pulling you closer to him. Your ass is halfway on the counter now and you're both so close, hearts beating quickly as you stare into each other's eyes.

Katsuki tries to shut all the thoughts running through his mind out but he’s only a little worried he’ll move too quickly and you’ll push him away. He can feel your hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, your thighs wrapping around his torso and squeezing him and you even bite your lip as you look at him.

It’s all the signs that you want him to kiss you and he still hesitates. He knows there’s no turning back if he does this. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger. Hanta was right, he is whipped and the second he gets to feel your lips against his, he’ll want nothing but you. So he looks into your eyes, feels you tighten your thighs around his waist and push your tits into his chest, he flashes you his signature shit eating grin.

“You sure you don’t wanna go grab the dick?”

Your eyes widen and then you roll them sassily, “Oh my go-” before he crashes his lips into your open mouth and slips his tongue between your soft lips. The second his lips collide with yours and his tongue is tasting you, you moan like it’s the first time you’ve been kissed in a long time. Your fingers pull the hair at the nape of his neck and he grunts as he pulls your hips closer to him and grinds his cock against your thigh.

Katsuki hasn’t kissed many people but it wouldn’t matter if he had because your lips would still be the softest lips he’s ever kissed. He’s blown away by how good you taste, how your lips move against his, how you bite his lip and tug his hair greedily and it makes his cock ache. You’re definitely not as shy as you’d have him believe. Your grinding against him, moaning pathetically and goddammit he wants to see you naked and begging and stuffed full of his cock.

When he pulls away from you to take a breath, your pupils are blown, you’re breathing hard and biting your lip and he can see you weren’t ready for him to pull away just yet. But he has plans for you, plans that do not include fucking you right here on the counter next to the food even though he desperately wants to. So instead he cups your face between his big hands and gives you a peck on the lips, silently enjoying the ease of doing so.

“Alright you horny freak, you should eat before things get too hot and heavy,” he says trying to turn the hard on in his sweatpants away from your leg.

~~~

He’s joking right. He’s got to be joking. You’re sitting with your super sexy—might as well admit it—roommate between your legs after he just made out with you. You thought you were about to be dicked down and he just...stops and talks about continuing dinner?

This man is truly an enigma, he fucks his fist to the thought of you, makes you breakfast the next morning and pretends you didn’t catch him doing it and then when he finally confronts you about it, he kisses you then tells you to he’s gonna finish dinner instead of fucking your brains out like what would’ve happened in a romcom. Not to mention the complete shift of his personality. You can hardly believe just a few days ago you were at each other’s throat.

He takes your face between his hands, kisses you again, then moves from between your legs to start chopping again.

“No goddamn way,” you pout as he laughs at you. “There’s no way I am the horny freak. Not after you diddled yourself to the thought of me!”

“Don’t ever fucking say I ‘diddled’ myself again,” he responds, now glowering at you.

“I’ll say what I want,” you reply bratty and he drops the knife and stands in front of you again. He scrutinizes you for a second, raising an eyebrow and squinting.

“You’re actually upset, aren’t you? You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, half shocked and half amused. You poke out your lips and raise your eyebrow as well.

“So what if I am? Too much for you to handle?” you challenge and his eyes darken.

You smirk and before you can do anything more he’s on his knees in front of you. He pushes your thighs apart and sinks his teeth into your skin before sucking to stop the blood flow and leave a huge mark.

His tongue is warm and you moan instantly when he kisses there. His fingers keep your thighs pushed apart as he blazes a path of kisses up your inner thigh sucking and licking and biting as he goes. He speaks in between each kiss.

“You have… no...fucking.. Idea… how much I’ve wanted this.”

You bite your lip, he hasn’t even gotten close to your pussy yet and you’re already moaning like a pornstar. Great way to let him know how desperate you were for some action. Still he’s really really good at this, like too good at this and you wonder how many times he’s done this.

When he finally does make it up to your clothed pussy his fingers move to the waistband of your shorts and he looks up at you, scarlet eyes gleaming between your thighs.

Permission. He’s wordlessly asking or—pleading judging by his increased breathing and quiet groans—for permission to keep going, while his warm breath is still caressing your thighs and his mouth is still sucking and making a mark on your inner thigh. His eyes look feral like your word of consent will release a beast.

You look down at him and nod and he moves so fast pulling the shorts down your legs you have no time to be shocked that your bare pussy is right in front of his face now.

“You probably taste so fucking good. I’ve been waiting to know what you taste like,” he groans as he stares at your pussy, glistening with slick from his kisses and words.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip at his confession and you breathe his name, a silent plea for him to do something as the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. He pushes your thighs further apart to get a better look, licking his lips like a hungry animal.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispers and you gasp at the praise. Then he uses his fingers to pull your lips apart, succumbing to his desire to finally taste you. He surprises you with tiny quick licks, cleaning the dribbling slick, slipping down your ass and thighs and even that almost sends you over the edge.

You throw your head back , eyes closed, “Oh… oh fuck Baku-“

The absence of his lips makes your eyes pop open and you’re about to release a string of the foulest language ever spoken for him teasing you again. But when you look into his eyes and see the seriousness you grow a bit worried.

“No,” he says simply. Your eyes bug out of your head.

Panting you respond, “No...what?”

“I’m not about to be face first in your pussy and listen to you call me ‘Bakugo’ like I’m some common guy you met on the street,” he huffs. You cannot believe he’s between your legs, mouth literally inches from your pussy, having this conversation.

“That’s your name. What else do you want me to call you, ‘daddy’?” you quip, trying to sneakily scoot your cunt closer to his face.

The shit eating grin returns and there's a quick glint that flashes across his eyes. He runs a finger through your folds, coating his finger and popping it into his mouth. You whine a squeaky desperate mewl.

He chuckles and it’s dripping with the cocksure tenor of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I don’t have to ask people to call me that, Princess. That comes later. For now, ’Katsuki’ is fine.”

Before you can roll your eyes from the annoyance of his cocky statement you feel his tongue flatten against your folds and lick with gusto. Your eyes instead roll to the back of your head and like he’s using magic to pull words from you, you whimper his name and grind your clit against his nose.

“Oh...fuck...K...Katsuki.” It feels good in your mouth, all the syllables tumbling from your lips in a moan, almost like it was meant to be moaned.

You can feel him chuckle against your pelvic bone and it strangely adds to the pleasure he’s bestowing upon you. Then he opens his mouth and spits on your clit before sucking it loudly, spit mixing with your cum as he slurps and groans into your pussy.

You know he’s talented. You know he’s a strong, pro hero with kick ass instincts and lots of intelligence, but the way he eats pussy, this must be his secret talent. He’s talking against your clit as his tongue runs intricate little patterns over it, filthy things that make your cheeks heat up, your heart race, your moans louder and sends your ego through the roof.

“You taste so fucking good. I knew you would. I fucking knew it. So pretty… such a pretty pussy… want you to squirt all over my tongue.”

You don’t think he can push his face any further into your cunt, that is until he takes both hands, spreads your folds, and pistons his tongue into you. He has you seeing stars and your hands immediately fist into his hair, white hot pleasure pooling in your core.

He’s growling now as you pull his locks in pleasure, grinding against his nose as he pushes his tongue deeper into your walls. Your jaw drops and you lean farther back on the counter arching your back.

“You gonna come for me? Already? I haven’t even given you my fingers yet,” He growls between your thighs, eyes shining from below you.

“Shut… the fuck…UP,” you manage to get out and again he laughs against your pussy and makes you jerk at the jolt of pleasure.

He reaches up to grind circles on your clit with his thumb and again you whimper and squeak in pleasure. “Who’s too much to handle?”

He has full control over you now and you give in willingly. You can’t even think of a witty response back to him. Your mind is too focused on his thumb moving faster and faster over your mound. “Katsuki, please… I can’t… I’m gonna…”

You're on the cusp of release, panting, shaking, moaning, the coil in your belly tightening as he grows hungrier. He growls louder, grunting and slurping excessively nibbling your clit, pulling at your lips, and coaxing you to come on his face.

“Come for me princess.”

You oblige, dropping your head back and moaning as your cum drips down your thighs and sprays on his face. He opens his mouth and accepts your juices graciously, licking your thighs and pussy to clean up the mess.

“Oh my fuck…” you gasp trying to catch your breath.

When he’s all done and your body relaxes from the onslaught of pleasure, you sit back up on the counter, the lip leaving an indentation from you sitting on the edge. Katsuki, still crouching between your legs, flashes all of his teeth with a hint of gum on the side before he slaps a wet open mouthed kiss onto your clit and snorts when you jolt, whimper, and push his head away.

“Now, like I said. It’s time for dinner.”

---

Katsuki is loading a huge helping of rice and curry onto two plates, face still sticky with your juices. He revels in it, plays the way you moaned his name over and over in his mind, how it rolled off your tongue, how right it felt coming from you and his pants tighten.

There isn’t anything that could ever be better than eating your pussy, except maybe fucking you. He clears his throat as he thinks about it again and turns to you. You’re sitting on the counter next to him again, a different pair of shorts on now and a huge smile on your face as you watch him move around the kitchen.

“Eat,” he grunts, shoving the plate in your hands.

You giggle, obviously basking in your post-orgasm bliss and hop down from the counter to go and sit at the small kitchen table. “You’re so bossy.”

“Tch, I just cooked dinner with your cum still on my face. I have every right to be bossy. Now shut up and tell me how good my cooking is,” he snaps back.

“Well I could suck your dick in exchange for the pre-dinner face riding,” you flirt back licking your lips.

Katsuki groans low wriggling to readjust the way his cock twitches against his leg in his baggy sweatpants. His eyebrows are furrowed in frustration as he saunters over to place his plate down on the table, then he swiftly grabs your cheeks in between his strong fingers and makes you look up at him.

“That wasn’t some sort of transaction. I didn’t do it so you could return the fucking favor or anything. I did it because I fucking wanted to. Got it?” he says, glaring seriously into your eyes. You nod once and he releases you and sits down across the table. He grins a toothy smile when you take a bite of the curry and put your hand up to your cheek in shock.

You scarf the rest down happily and he wouldn't admit this aloud but the fact that you enjoy his cooking makes him almost as proud as he would feel if he were the number one hero. When you’re both done eating and sitting back on the couch to finish the ending of the movie, you pat your belly satisfied.

“A man of many talents, I see,” you say, tipping an imaginary hat to him and he laughs and mutters “dork” again under his breath. “No but seriously, where’d you learn to do that?”

“Cooking is easy dummy,” he shrugs and presses play. Leave it to you to be easily impressed by everything. You scrunch your nose—how is everything you do so cute?—and scoff.

“I’m not talking about cooking, dummy,” you say mockingly and when he realizes what you mean he smiles wickedly.

“That’s just called being talented toots.” He says this with the same air of confidence he does when he tells everyone he’ll be number one.

To his surprise you don’t roll your eyes or snap back with a witty comment. Instead you drop your eyes and fiddle with the hem of your shorts anxiously.

“A lot of practice, I assume?” You say, voice wavering and not looking at him. He understands what you’re insinuating and raises an eyebrow.

“Maybe a few,” he responds nonchalantly.

“A few?”

“What are you? A parrot? Yeah a few.”

“And how many is a ‘few’?” You’re smiling a wily cat smile as you scoot closer to him on the couch and poke his bicep annoyingly. He blows out a frustrated noise.

“Like two or three, alright? Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Oh,” You blink as the number catches you off guard. He can’t read your expression, can’t tell whether the number is higher or lower than you expected. Either way it’s annoying not knowing what you’re thinking. He takes the chance to make it less awkward and boost his ego again.

“I don’t fuck every girl who throws her pussy at me,” he huffs squinting his eyes and turning to watch the tv grumpily.

“So there’s a lot of girls throwing pussy at you?” you inquire. He can tell you’re trying to stay nonchalant but the slight quiver of your voice at the end of the sentence gives you away.

Are you actually jealous? The thought makes Katsuki’s heart beat race and feeds his ego once again. He could reassure you that the others he slept with weren’t nearly as good as you and that he didn’t have interest in anyone else but you, but why ruin the fun? Instead he shrugs, peeping at you from the corner of his eye.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

“Nothing to be jealous about,” you say, turning away and it looks like you’re giving up on something.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you back closer to him. Your warm body is against his chest now, one leg swung over his torso and a hand over his heart. His arm is wrapped around the small of your back and he pulls your face close, glaring into your eyes.

“You’re right. Cuz I don’t want anyone else,” he rasps in a husky voice.

He squeezes your hip and you bite your lip, your eyes narrowing as a sensual smile flutters onto your lips. You reach a hand up to stroke his cheek and he closes his eyes to concentrate on your soft nimble fingers as you move them up the side of his face to play in his hair.

You lick your lips, move closer and run them over his as you speak. “Tell me what you were thinking about when you were...”

You grind your thigh over his cock, rapidly growing again in his sweatpants and he grinds his teeth. “You know what I was thinking about.”

You’re close to his ear now, voice barely above a whisper as your hands move up and down his chest. He sucks in through his teeth, feeling your teasing fingers draw patterns in his chest, lingering on his raised nipples. You giggle and kiss his neck and he clears his throat to stop the loud groan pushing its way up his throat.

“I want to hear you say it, Katsuki.” His name again falling from your lips with familiarity, like you’ve known him a lifetime and then in a firmer demanding tone, “Tell me.”

He’s heard this tone before, when you’re on conference calls with your dumb ass coworkers and you’re handling business. His heart is thumping in his chest and he closes his eyes, digs his fingers into your hip and thigh, grinds up against your leg now putting pressure on his cock.

Your command awakens something in him. He’s not one to take orders from anyone. But the way you’ve captured him, he’ll only admit it in his head, if you were to tell him to do anything right now, he’d do it without hesitation.

And so, he speaks through heaving breaths and groans caught in his throat as you continue to kiss and lick his neck, laying out his fantasy for you.

“I thought about making you...fuck...scream my name, and watching you sink down on my cock, begging me for more,” he says through clenched teeth.

Your hand runs down his chest and for the first time you grasp his dick through his sweatpants. He groans now, no longer trying to hold it in as you palm it and lick his earlobe.

“I’m not really one to beg, you’d have to be really good,” you tease, rubbing up and down his shaft.

He grinds his teeth again. “Always such a fucking...teas-”

A guttural noise oozes from him when your hand plunges down his pants to grasp his bare cock.

Your hand is so fucking soft, warm and small and dainty. He’s twitching uncontrollably in your hand and your moaning and sucking on his neck is almost enough to send him over the edge. He bucks up, flexing his thighs and hips trying to get you to move but instead you grip him tightly, press down on his thighs and keep him situated in place.

“What the fuck are you-“ he grunts between clenched teeth, growing annoyed at your incessant teasing.

“Shut up and don’t move,” you purr. You slide down his body, force his legs open and situate yourself between them on your knees. You keep your eyes on his, hand still plunged inside of his pants playing with the precum quickly oozing from his tip.

A faint smirk plays on your lips as you slowly shimmy his pants down his hips. You help him step out of them, lifting one foot and then the other before throwing them to the side. The cool air in the room relieves the burning need for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock and he sighs.

His eyes bore into yours, not daring to flit away for a moment as you appraise him with a hungry lust in your eyes. He watches you lick your lips hungrily before you whisper, “It’s so pretty, Katsuki.”

His hips jerk up and he clenches his fists at his side. Every fantasy of you he’s dreamed up is nothing compared to how desirable you look right now, on your knees and praising him.

You quirk an eyebrow as he sucks in a quick breath, a hissing noise sliding through his teeth as you bring the tip of his cock to your lips. You kiss it, a quick peck right on the tip and his precum glosses your lips.

You giggle and breathe heavily over his aching cock, grasp him again, your hand barely able to wrap around his girth and lock eyes with him. You’re smiling seductively at him, a bit playful and fuck, if he’s doesn’t feel your mouth around his dick anytime soon he won’t be able to hold back anymore.

“I’m doing this because I fucking want to. Got it?” you parrot his words from earlier before you lick long and slow from the crease in his balls all the way up to the slit of his dick.

“Ffffuckkkk,” he hears himself say. It feels like an out of body experience, your slow deliberate kitten licks as your tongue swirls around every portion of his cock. You moan in response smiling as you move back down to his balls and pop one into your mouth, sucking with gusto.

You’re worshipping him, he’s ready to burst and you haven’t even taken him all the way into your mouth yet. Seems he’s not the only talented one. He lifts a hand to fist it into your hair as you take his other ball into your mouth and suck graciously.

“Unf…that’s so fucking good,” he moans

Your hand moves quickly to grasp his wrist and pin it back to his side, firm and tight. Your message is clear. You’re in charge right now and he will listen. If this were another time, if you were someone else, if the desire slotted deep in his core burning it’s way down to his cock weren’t so deep, he’d show you who’s boss.

For now though, he focuses on not shooting his cum onto your face as you lick up his shaft again. You slob all over it, mixing with slick before you look at him and command, “watch me.”

You wrap your lips around him and take him deep down your throat watching him with hollowed cheeks as you sink down.

All of his muscles tense as he groans in bliss, veins popping out on his forehead and hands as he tries to keep them put at his side. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, he curls up his lip, showing his pointy canines and focusing on your throat.

You start moving, bobbing your head up and down, slurping and gagging as you struggle to keep his thick shaft down your throat. Your tongue swirls around him and when you lift up to take a breather, he can’t hold back anymore.

He bucks his hips up, placing his large hand on your head and luckily not catching you off guard. Instead you reach up to grab his wrist, maneuver yourself so he can easily keep thrusting up into your mouth and moan around his cock, encouraging him to continue. He plunges down your throat, fucking your face and losing himself in your gags and moans.

“Fuck, fuck baby. You’re so good, you suck dick like a fucking pro, oh fuck oh fuck,” he praises as he feels the pressur in his gut build to a release. He’s so close, limbs twitching as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel you dig your nails into his muscular thighs and he’s about to shoot sticky hot cum down your throat.

“Can I-unf...down your throat? Can you take it baby? All of it?” he grunts through labored breaths and just as you whine what sounds like an affirmation, he thrusts one last time and holds your face down, growling and grunting as you take his load happily down your throat.

His body goes limp as he relaxes back on the couch. You look up at him, cheeks stained with tears and his cum and fuck it’s so sexy. His dick grows hard again when you smile in delight and open your mouth wide, tongue hanging out to show him that you swallowed every last drop of him.

It drives him wild and he’s no longer trying to hold back. His body moves on it’s own, grabbing you and slinging you over his shoulder as you squeal in shock and what he hopes is excitement. He stomps to your room and throws you on the bed, the fairy lights you’ve hung on the ceiling rattling and providing the perfect amount of light.

“Katsuki…” you breathe watching him with wide eyes. You don’t have to say it, he knows what you want and now he’s hell bent on giving it to you.

He stares down at you, cock twitching against his leg, “Take off those fucking clothes,” he says in husky voice.

He watches you pull the shirt over your head, your tits exposed to him. “Heh no bra?” He quips, licking his lips.

“Easier without one,” you retort, wiggling your brows. You shimmy out of the tight shorts and lay bare before him. Everything about you is delectable and he stares at your pussy like it’s the first time he’s seen it all over again.

You're dripping and glistening under the soft lights. Your hands cup your breast and you pinch your nipples while watching him. “Like what you see?” You giggle again and he shakes his head.

“What happened to that ”embarrassed girl” act you were doing, huh?” He says crawling over your naked form. The heat from your cunt beckons to him as you spread your legs to welcome his presence between them.

“Had to match your cocky energy,” you squeak, placing a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. He can’t hide the blush that dusts his cheeks and you laugh when you see it and wrap your arms around his neck.

His heart races, the amorous joy on your face warming his cheeks and pumping blood between his legs. He lines the head of his cock up to your entrance, sliding it through your folds and readying himself with your slick.

He bites his lip, gazing into your now lidded eyes as you mewl beneath him, a pleading expression finding its way onto your face. It boosts his confidence and before he pushes into you he grunts, “I’m gonna ruin you princess.”

You gasp when the head of his cock pushes past your tight ring of muscle and he grinds his teeth and clenches the sheets between his fingers. You’re fluttering around him, breathing heavily and moaning. A string of curses escape your lips as he slowly pushes further into you. When he finally bottoms out you both cry out in ecstasy.

He’s done it. He’s finally inside you, and holy fuck you’re squeezing him so tight. Your back is arched up, you’re wailing about how good his cock feels and he hasn’t even started moving. This scene will forever stay in his mind. He looks down to see you stretched around him, sloppy and dribbling while your legs quiver.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses.

You whimper as he adjusts onto his elbows and pulls your body closer to his. Then he pulls out slowly and rocks and grinds his hips back into you. He can feel his dick dragging against every spongy ridge in your pussy with every deep thrust.

Your hands are interlocked tightly around his neck, your eyes squeezed shut and biting so hard on your lip he can see the teeth imprints left on your lip when you drop your jaw and wail his name.

“Katsuki… Katsu… please… it’s so good… oh fuck…”

Your moans intensify with every drive of his hips and soon he’s slamming into you. He’s lost in how your pussy grips him, aching to feel more and more of you. He pushes your legs back, opens them wider as he pounds into you. Squelching wet sounds and slapping skin accompany your singing cries of pleasure.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock. You can do it,” he coaxes in your ear, sweet and passionate.

Katsuki’s feral growls and grunts of pleasure come to a head when you clamp around him, squealing and squirting on his cock. Your chest is heaving as you pull him close to your body, your limbs locking around him and holding him as you convulse and fall limp on the bed.

A few more pumps of his hips into your bruised cunt and he’s quickly pulling out to paint your belly with thick ropes of cum. He collapses on top of you, and pulls your face up to kiss you, lips moving lazily against yours as you both catch your breath.

He keeps kissing as your fingers dance around on his back, wet smacks up and down your jaw like he can’t get enough of you. Your eyes are closed as you hum in post orgasmic bliss. Katsuki can’t stop the words falling from his lips between kisses.

“Be..my..girl...be mine…all mine...please.”

He can feel your cheeks heat and lift as you smile and whisper. “Ok.”

His heart swells when he hears your response and he chuckles as he flops on his back and pulls you into his chest.

“Good. Now I know you’ll forgive me,” he says, looking at the ceiling and tracing lines on your back as you cuddle up to him.

“Forgive you for what?” You say, lifting your head from his chest to look into his eyes worriedly.

He sneers teasingly, “Putting your dildo out of a job before you ever got a chance to use it.”

--

Thank you so much for reading!

[fantastic-bby]

ATEEZ vs. bum touching

Pairing: Reader x Member

Word count: 1.3k

Genre: Fluff | Comedy | Reaction/Headcanon

Summary: ATEEZ has to live with either you touching their ass or touching your ass.

Warnings: A lot of ass touching

A/n: Hi, so I really like ass... which was the whole reason why I wrote this lol

Masterlist

Hongjoong

Gets very confused

Also very taken aback

Had a feeling you really like his ass

But you also never really directly mentioned it

It was always just passing comments about how his pants look nice

Doesn’t really know what to do because it’s so sudden

He was in the kitchen, just getting water after spending hours in his home studio

You follow him into the kitchen because you saw him leaving his studio

Joong had been busy the entire day, so you took the opportunity to force him to love you :D

Hongjoong doesn’t even realise you’re there

Until suddenly you’re pinching his ass with your thumb and index finger

“AHH!”

Stares at you like you’ve just destroyed his laptop

“What was that for?!”

You laugh bcs he’s cute and hug him

His entire face is fucking red because your hands are nicely placed on both cheeks

“I like your butt”

Honestly can’t even be mad because of what you said

Lets you hug him, but spends the entire day thinking about his own ass

Seonghwa

Gets very confused pt 2

Thinks it’s kinda weird bcs you’ve always said that you like his butt

He doesn’t exactly stop you from touching his butt bcs he doesn’t mind, he just gets really confused and flustered whenever it happens

Sometimes he can tell when it might happen

Also doesn’t really do anything to stop it

Hwa honestly just hopes you don’t do it especially when you’re in public

But you have the decency to not embarrass him like that

So you do it while he’s cleaning

Hwa’s bent over to pick up a few things and you just seize the opportunity to go over and squeeze his bum

Like whole hand on his ass full hand squeeze

Almost flies into the air because it was so sudden and he hadn’t even noticed you entered the room

Accidentally lets go of everything he’s holding and whips around while holding his butt

“What was that??”

You just smile and go back to doing your own thing without an explanation

“Baby???”

“Your bum’s cute”

Yunho

Doesn’t really mind it

He just lets it happen as long as he gets to touch your bum too

Whenever you’re cuddling, you just let your hand rest on his bum

Yunho honestly thinks its cute

Just gets a bit flustered whenever you do it in public

You have a habit of sticking your hand into the back pocket of his pants

He actually really likes it because it means that you're comfortable around him

You like doing it bcs you think it's funny whenever he walks away from you

And your hand's in his pocket

You pull him back sometimes and Yunho goes "AHH??" because he forgot lol

So he basically doesn't mind it

Unless someone points it out

Just so happened that the someone was Jongho

“Hyung, is (Y/n)’s hand in your ass pocket?”

Yunho’s face just turns red

Immediately takes your hand out while you laugh

“Sweetie, I know you like my ass, but let’s not do it in front of my friends”

“Whatever you say, Yun”

Yeosang:

Another one who thinks it’s quite strange

He’s always known you had a thing for his butt

You always say that his butt looks good

And he’ll just turn around like what ass

I’m joking pls don’t hurt me thanks

Yeosang’s also very quiet about how much he likes your ass

Sometimes when he walks past you

Hand on bum

Whenever you bend over

Hand on bum

But he always makes it seem like an accident

“Sorry, darling, could you scooch over so that I can get the salt?”

You, on the other hand, makes it very obvious whenever you touch his ass

Walk past him

Hand on bum

He bends over

Straight up spanks him out of nowhere because you couldn’t help it

Yeosang turns around and stares at you like you’re disgraced, not only him, but his family, his bandmates, and his pet from when he was child

“What?”

“The opportunity was right there”

San:

Doesn’t mind it at all

Actually really likes it

Bcs he knows you’re comfortable enough to just touch his ass whenever you want

San also likes your ass anyway so it’s a win-win situation for him

Whenever you’d wake up, someone’s hand is on someone’s ass

In the kitchen whenever you’re cooking, San greets you with a firm smack to your ass

He’s an ass man, you can’t convince me otherwise

Doesn’t even hide it from his friends

You’re more shy of doing it in public

But I wholeheartedly believe that San’s the type of dude who would smack your ass in public

You’re talking to one of their managers

Just a chill convo about the weather

San sees you and comes up to you

Hand goes swoop and smacks you right on the bum

“AH WHAT?!?!?”

“Hi baby”

You’re staring at him like wtf

The manager thinks it's hilarious

Mingi:

Very flustered baby

He’s very shy about his

Booty area

So Mingi gets very flustered by it very easily

He’s also very shy about your bosom as well

Mingi’s always tried to be mindful of where he puts his hands

Even tho you’ve already verbally told him that you don’t mind

Still stays away from touching your booty unless you’re alone or doing some funky stuff ;)

You don’t do it that often

Bcs honestly you think his confused face is so cute

Mingi decided that walking around your bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist was a good idea

You saw the opportunity almost immediately

Just a lil pinch

“AH WHAT THE FUCK?!”

He whips around and gapes at you

His towel is | | this close to falling, but he quickly catches it and continues to stare at you

“Baby, you know I like your butt, right?”

“Yes, but what?!”

“Well, I like your butt and it was right there.”

Is horrified for the rest of the week

Wooyoung:

Like San and Yunho

Does not mind it one bit

If he can touch your ass too, then he’s totally fine with you touching his ass

Even if it’s out of nowhere

Even if it’s that thing where you jab their assholes with your finger as a prank

He did that to you once and you threw a book at him

You did that to him once and he pretended to cry for a whole day

Wooyoung absolutely LOVES your ass

He loves every part of you

But your ass?

Special place in his heart

So he touches it all the time

Spanks you in public just to get a reaction out of you

Gets whiney if you do it bcs he’s a baby like that

So you’re out grocery shopping and Wooyoung’s pushing the cart

He’s more of gliding around with it haphazardly, but as long as he doesn’t get hurt, you’re alright with it

Wooyoung bends down to pick up something from the bottom shelf

And you just spank him so hard that he stumbles forward and almost crashed into the shelf completely

“BABE???”

“Yeh”

Jongho:

Pretends not to like your ass as much as he does

But he

OHF

He LOSES IT whenever he sees your ass

It’s like primal instinct

He just goes WOAH

And he HAS to smack it

Jongho’s so strong that sometimes, he forgets that his smacks hurt

So one day when you’re just moving around the place and doing your own thing

He decides that he wants to spank you

Hits you so hard that you stumble and almost fall over

He feels bad almost immediately

“Oh god! Are you okay?!”

“Jongho, what in the world were you thinking?!”

“I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”

You probably have a handprint on your butt now because of him

He spends the entire day making it up to you

Does everything in his power to stop you from being mad even tho he thinks your mad face is cute

Even lets you sit on his lap and feeds you ice cream just to make sure you can’t be angry at him

[noteguk]

be quiet | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. It can be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which jungkook is the best at picking the worst possible place for a quickie. 

— contents and warnings; smut, pwp, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, public sex (library), doing the nasty in the theology section, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mid-sex arguments, jk is a mean lil shit (nothing new), kind of dom!jk, creampie, oral (female receiving), cum eating, cum play

— words; 3.1k

— author’s note; this was requested by anon and I thought it would be a nice thing to drop before the angsty parts begin 😌 also, for time context, this happens a bit after “bad behavior”

~

You were pretty sure that Jungkook had chosen that section on purpose. Because he hated you, that’s why. 

Never once in your life had you wondered so far into the university’s library, past the known biology and chemistry shelves, and into the dusty alleyways of the humanities courses. And that was the shameful reason why you didn’t even know that there was a religious section in the first place. 

The realization was obvious if you actually stopped to think about it: there were so many classes related to theology in your university that it would be ridiculous not to have books on that. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel like the old, hardcover bible was staring at you in endless disappointment as Jungkook turned you around and threw the hem of your dress over your hips. 

“Shhhh, baby, keep it quiet,” he shushed you after a small whimper had escaped your lips, his palms spreading over your ass cheeks. “Someone’s gonna hear you.” 

Because Jungkook hated you (as previously established), he instantly contradicted himself with a loud slap against your ass. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you hissed, fumbling closer to him as he tugged your underwear to the side. The cold air hit your wet folds instantly, spreading goosebumps through your skin. Jungkook was an expert at noticing the most timid, basic ways that your body reacted to his touches, so the clear asymmetry between your rough speech and the shivers running through your body was enough to make him snicker. “Keep it down. This isn’t funny.” 

Jungkook chuckled behind you, the sharp noise of his zipper opening sounding like a gunshot inside that quiet building. “No. It’s hilarious, actually.” 

You sighed, praying to all the books around you that no one would stumble across that erotic spectacle. You had no idea if there was another living soul wandering around the library so late — in fact, the place was like thirty minutes away from closing and you were positive that the librarian was already dozing off on the front counter when you arrived, so she was probably balls deep in REM sleep by that point. There was no one cramming for midterms, no night owls to interrupt the two of you and, just to top it all off, it was a fucking Friday. The library was so empty that you didn’t even know why you went to that place. 

Okay, that was a lie. You went there because Jungkook had booty called you — yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, shame and disgrace — but, in your defense, you honestly thought he was just in desperate need for some extra help with his project (which was what he had initially told you). Turns out, “extra help” in Jungkook Dictionary didn’t mean the academic one. It meant that he was pathetically hard and he wanted somewhere to stick his dick in (instead of doing it like a normal person and using his hand). 

Regardless, your position was equally embarrassing. You could’ve just walked away when you realized his true intentions, and not followed him into the theology section of the library, for fuck’s sake. You really needed to start exercising some self love and put some limits in that chaotic situationship before you got yourself in serious trouble. 

Still, all those mental promises turned into silence when you felt his fingers playing with your folds, teasing their way between them. “So fucking wet,” Jungkook’s horniness dripped from his voice like honey, so soft and deep that got your knees buckling, back arching so he could reach your heat better. “Such a needy girl. Always begging for cock.” 

“I didn’t beg for anything,” you weren’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit; looking over your shoulder just so you could stare him down. Somewhere along your messy make-out session and the Bible-induced guilt, Jungkook had already moved his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, his cock standing erect and proud. His timing was fantastic when he was actually interested in something. “You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants.” 

He scoffed. “Don’t ruin the mood.” Jungkook punctuated his sentence with the plunging of two of his fingers inside your pussy, making a surprised whimper fall from your mouth — which you suppressed a second too late. “And of course I can’t, not when you’re dressed like this.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the pleasure that started to build up at the pumping of his fingers in and out of you. “My knee-level dress is neither sexy nor an open invitation, you troglodyte.” You had chosen to wear that dress because it was a deliciously warm afternoon, not because you wanted to get railed while staring at religious texts. Jungkook, however, seemed to stare at your choice of clothing like he was looking at an “all you can eat” bouffet. You groaned. “But if you’re gonna do it, can you rush? I don’t wanna get caught.” 

It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as his digits left your heat. You knew he’d tease you endlessly if you didn’t say that, and you two were on a tight schedule. “You never do,” he mumbled. 

“Duh,” you said, watching as his hand curled around his cock, pumping it a few times. You placed your own hands on the shelves and refused to look at the books any longer. “I have a future, you know. Don’t wanna get expelled halfway through the—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted you, holding onto your hips. Jungkook aligned himself with your entrance, coating his crown with your wetness and grunting at the sensation. “Fuck. Don’t wanna talk about your stupid high marks right now.” 

Jungkook made his point clear with a swift roll of his hips, his thick length gradually entering your pussy. You bit down on your lip, closing your eyes as you marveled at the aphrodisiac sensation of his cock opening you up. “Shit,” you moaned — a whispered, breathy moan that wiped all your fierceness away. “You’re so — fuck — so annoying.” 

“I said shut up,” Jungkook hissed, his cock hitting deep inside you with a strong hit of his hips against yours. You could feel him everywhere, mercilessly pushing his way inside your tight walls and stretching them wide for him. 

Your eyes instantly fell shut, eyebrows raising as he started to set a rhythm, moving in and out of your soaked heat. The sounds of your bodies meeting was dirty and, worst of all, it was super perceptible to any one passing by — however, in typical Jungkook magic, you quickly forgot about most of your worries. “Oh my… Jungkook,” you gasped, feeling his grasp on your skin grow tighter at the uttering of his name. “Someone’s… someone’s gonna hear us.” 

But you had successfully managed to piss Jungkook off, which was a terrible sign in that specific (public) situation. “Shit, you’re always like this,” he groaned, raising the force of his thrusts. A desperate moan died on your throat at the feeling of his cock drilling in and out of you, your breath shallow. That couldn’t be good. “Can’t stop fucking talking.” 

Thinking was starting to get difficult, and speaking was even worse. “That’s not what I—”

Another whimper broke your sentence, your trail of thought long forgotten, and he used that opening to his advantage. One of Jungkook’s hands slithered from your hip to the front of your body, moving between your breasts before, at last, settling on your neck. There was no strength on his actions when he pulled you backwards, making your back press against his chest. “Why can’t you understand when I tell you to be fucking quiet, uh?” His voice was a rough growl close to your ear, filled with so much hunger that you almost lost your balance. Before you did, however, the tap of two of his fingers on your lips made your focus shift. “Do both of us a fucking favor and put your mouth to good use.” 

For the first time that night, you were obedient. Without hesitation, you parted your lips so his fingers could move inside your mouth, a deep exhale leaving his chest once you started sucking on them; muffling your whimpers. 

“That’s it, fuck,” he praised, his momentaneous anger slipping away from his grasp. You could feel Jungkook throbbing inside you every time you swirled your tongue around his digits, his length splitting you open like no one else could. “You’re so fucking tight. The only reason why I don’t stuff your mouth full of my cock right now is because this pussy is too good.” 

You clenched around him, tried to say something that sounded like gibberish with his fingers still in your mouth. Amazingly so, Jungkook understood what it was. 

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He asked, breathless. You could only nod, your body bouncing up and down with the force of his precise thrusts. “Yeah?” He chuckled. “You know, I should just leave you like this, see if you learn to shut up for once.” 

“Pfflease, no,” you struggled to get out. 

“No? Now you listen to what I have to say?” Jungkook kept teasing you, watching as your initial petulant attitude was washed away. Doing that to you seemed to be a habit that he couldn’t let go, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way you fumbled and whimpered under his grasp that inflated his ego more than anything. “You only listen when I have you like this. Don’t you think that’s funny?” 

Jungkook pulled his fingers out of your mouth, using that hand to press your body closer to his; tattooed arm wrapped in an iron grip around your waist. “Sorry,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point; you were just trying to grasp at anything that could bring you some sort of salvation. Maybe if you tried to appease his pestering spirit, he wouldn’t be so cruel when it came to your release. “Jungkook, please.” 

“Please what?” He asked, his breath ragged against your ear; sounding like he was almost getting lost in your pussy. 

“Please let me cum, please,” you begged. You didn’t know how he managed to do it: to make your entire personality crumble down into a desperate, needy mess with little to no effort. He knew just the right buttons to push; just the right way to fuck you. It was a dangerous game that you were playing and the score clearly wasn’t in your favor. 

“I’ll think about it.” He groaned, a particularly loud moan ripping itself from his throat at another hash buckle of his hips. He was fucking your so well that you couldn’t even remember where you were for a second, all inihibitions pushed aside as your mind turned into a hazed, disconnected mess. “First, be a good girl and let me fill you up.” 

You nodded desperately, not trusting yourself to say anything else. The heat in your stomach was building up at a worrisome speed, threatening to spill over at any given second, and yet you didn’t think it would happen quick enough. 

Just as you expected, Jungkook was cumming a few thrusts later, spilling himself inside your pussy as he groaned against your shoulder. “Fuck, baby,” he was fighting for air, trying to keep his moans as quiet as he could manage them. And yet, when his mouth right next to your ear, you could hear with divine clarity the beautiful, airy sighs he gifted you as he continued to fuck you through his high. “Take it, come on. Fuck.” 

You were almost pleading for your own body to hush and allow you to cum before Jungkook pulled away but, once again, you weren’t that lucky. You were left with shaky legs as he removed himself from your heat; feeling awfully empty as he swirled you around before crashing his mouth against yours in a messy kiss. 

Yes, Jungkook fucked you like no one else could, but kissing him managed to be even more heavenly sometimes. Time and time again, he would surprise you with kisses that left you seeking for air; the slow drag of his tongue against yours matching perfectly with the way his hand cupped your cheek, thumb delicately caressing the skin. It was the eye of a hurricane, the tranquil skies before the storm hit, and you could get lost in it with such ease that it scared you sometimes. 

But then he pulled away, and the magic left you just as quickly as it had arrived. “J-Jungkook, I didn’t—“ 

“Shh, baby, I know.” Another tender kiss against your lips, and his mouth moved to your jaw, nibbling on the skin. “Gonna clean you up, princess. Don’t worry.” 

Brain too overwhelmed to react, you were left speechless as Jungkook trailed a path of sloppy kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine before, at last, getting down on his knees before you. A question got trapped in your throat, rapidly forgotten, when he raised one of your thighs and placed it over his shoulder. “Hold this up for me.” He signed at the hem of your dress, and you did as he requested, pulling the fabric to the level of your breasts. “That’s my girl.” 

A shivering sigh danced on your tongue as you waited for him to move, his eyes eagerly taking in the way his release dripped between your folds, mingling with your own wetness. Jungkook loved to watch his work. “So pretty,” Jungkook mumbled, as he always did; sounding like he was trapped in a daydream. Like you weren’t actually supposed to hear that. “Always so pretty for me.” 

You got lost in his praise for exactly two seconds before he was leaning in and pressing his mouth against your heat. Your hips buckled forward, barely held in place by his strong arms around your thighs. “Jungkook,” you called his name, making his dark eyes snap towards yours. His tongue prodded against your opening once, twice, teasing your pussy a few times before he licked his path up your slit, lips wrapping around your clit. “God, so good.” 

Jungkook hummed against your heat, lapping between your folds like he was a starved animal, not caring about the fact that his own cum was mixed with your arousal. You were starting to consider that maybe he had a bit of an oral fixation, because you never saw him so focused as when he had his face buried between your thighs; his tongue playing with your sensitive spots so eagerly that you couldn’t help but whine out his name. 

“Oh— Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling  as that familiar pressure started to build on the base of your spine. Your hands were sweaty, clenching onto the fabric of your flowery dress as Jungkook continued to moan and lick his way around your pussy. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jungkook was looking up at you through the thick curtain of his messy hair, his devilish eyes sparking up in a silent dare for you to make a mess on his tongue. At the same time that he told you to keep quiet, you knew that he got off when you were loud — especially in a place like that, where the two of you could get caught. He was a fucking demon when he wanted to be, and he seriously didn’t have any trouble dragging you to hell along with him. 

The worst part was that you liked it. You liked it since the very first time he had you, liked the way he took your precious control away from you. You liked when he had you like that: a shivering, desperate mess hanging by a thread; dwelling in the fantastic sensation of his wet muscle prodding your entrance, fucking it open as he stared up at you like he could eat you whole. 

It was always the sight of Jungkook like that — between your thighs, eating you out like you were his favorite sweet — that pushed you over the edge. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, muffling your needy cries as you finally reached your high, his tongue still playing with your clit as you came down. Jungkook groaned as a small wave of your arousal dripped on him, his mouth expertly cleaning it up, just like he had promised. 

“S-Stop,” you whimpered, a violent shiver overtaking your muscles as you started to feel the effects of your sensitivity. “Too much.” 

After a final stroke of his tongue against your slick, Jungkook tugged your panties back in place and removed your thigh from his shoulder before, finally, he moved back to his feet. Your hand, weak, let go of the fabric and allowed your dress to collapse back into place, covering the mess between your legs. 

He smirked at your overwhelmed, fucked-out state as he tugged himself back inside his pants. The sound of his zipper was once again a noisy interruption, which brought along a new wave of panic as you remembered your location. 

You grabbed Jungkook’s wrist, twisting it around so you could look at his watch. “We have five minutes until closing time.” You sighed heavily, looking up at him with your typical irritated stare. His magic didn’t last for long, after all. “Why are you always like this?”

“Like what?” Jungkook raised one eyebrow, unable to hide the entertainment in his voice as he watched your expression. He ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it back. “Incredibly handsome? Charismatic? Good at everything? Including eati—”  

“I was going to ask why do you have the inherent need to defile religious places, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” you interrupted. “By the way, this,” you pointed between you two, “is not happening again. So I hope you had a good last time.” 

Jungkook chuckled, holding your chin with his fingers. “This is like the third time you’re saying that, baby.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss, barely a tender press of his lips against yours. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

 ~

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

Taglist: @youurkryptonite @taehyungieskith @fan-ati--c @btstrasht @crazy4myself @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky @imluckybitches @gyukult @jinsalpaca @0901-1230

[todoscript]

monopolize

SUMMARY: Having realized Bakugou and Midoriya’s infatuation with you, Shouto decides to make a firm point at showing that you’re his and his alone.

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader (feat. bakugou katsuki & midoriya izuku)

genre: smut. slight angst. pro hero au.

word count: 8.0k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. possessive!shouto. (!!!)coercion. exhibitionism. bondage (kinda). slight degradation. praising. squirting. humiliation (bakugou & midoriya receiving).

author’s note: so the idea for this fic came to me one day while i was studying chemistry and it kinda got out of hand the moment i started writing it...haha, oops... but anyway, shoutout to rosie ( @shoutogepi​ ) for listening to me ramble about this and encouraging me to write this shit, love you lots babe! <333 also a reminder to please look over the warnings before proceeding, thank you!!!

If your open jaw is not enough to emphasize your shock, then the bag that hits the floor after escaping your grasp does that job for you. It also alerts the three existing presences in the room of your arrival, to which all eyes maneuver to the door of your shared bedroom, witnessing your appalled state at what is lying in wake.

Lounging on the futon, Shouto breaks your awed silence. “Welcome home, love,” he greets, warmly as per usual whenever he arrives home from work before you do.

You’re utterly surprised by how indifferent he sounds despite the two additional faces in the room. After all, it’s not every day you’d ever expect the Pro Number One and Two heroes to be here in your very bedroom, bound by what you have to assume is your boyfriend’s ice.

Unsure how to go about your reply, you instead opt to slowly walk into the room, assessing the situation. Your wary gaze darts between the angry red eyes of Bakugou Katsuki and the strained green ones of Midoriya Izuku. “I... U-Um… Shouto? What is all of this? What are Midoriya and Bakugou doing here?” You finally manage to address the elephant in the room, yet Shouto does not tackle your questions with as much haste as you are hoping.

He gets up from the bed to meet you in the middle, gathering you in his arms before his lips find your temple—the kiss he presses soft and tender, but the fact that there are two other pairs of eyes glancing over at you from such a compromising position warms your cheeks buried in his chest.

You don’t catch how Bakugou practically wrenches at the sight while Midoriya turns away, abashed. There’s hurt discerned in their expressions that can only be akin to pure jealousy. But you don’t know that. Well, not yet anyway.

“Let me explain, love,” Shouto starts, his voice a meager space away from your ear that he tucks a hair behind, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but are you aware that these two both—”

“That’s it! I don’t have to stay here and listen to this crap!” Bakugou’s loud voice bursts out, cutting the rest of Shouto’s words short just before they fall to your ear. Watching as a fever of energy begins emitting from Bakugou’s palms trapped in the ice, the dual-haired hero quickly acts by erecting another glacier to impede the blonde’s abilities, effectively keeping him trapped there. Bakugou can only grit his teeth as he remains bound. Meanwhile, you gape at the lengths Shouto goes to prevent these two renowned heroes from leaving this space.

The chill that diffuses throughout the atmosphere of the room pairs fittingly with the frigid stare Shouto points at your guests. Ensuring the cold doesn’t affect you, he regulates your temperatures with his fire side while your body is still pressed against him before continuing. “As I was saying, these two men in front of you both harbor the same feelings for you as I do,” Shouto says. You slightly turn to meet his heterochromatic gaze with confusion written on your face, unsure what his words exactly imply.

Reading this, Shouto’s hand at your waist travels to your nape. “I’m sure you must have realized it by now, love... The way their touches linger on you for far longer than necessary whenever you meet them...” His calloused hand rubs at the back of your neck, the other traveling up your chest that yields a strained noise from your mouth.

“Or how they flirt with you whenever you visit my agency while they’re there, thinking I don’t notice. Telling you how good you look or how pretty you are.” His words meld into your skin as his lips meet below your jawline, the sensation of his nibbles manifesting your noises into frail moans that lights blushes in your spectators’ cheeks. All attempts at disregarding those cases as friendly compliments are hindered when your attention is captured by Shouto’s wandering hands and hypnotizing voice.

“Though I wholeheartedly agree with every statement, I think it’s only right of me—your boyfriend—to be a little concerned when they’re always giving you those looks.”

You bite your lip in hopes of suppressing the next noise that threatens to spill from your mouth before curiosity overtakes you. “What looks?” you pry yet not entirely ready for the answer. Shouto breaths in closely next to your ear, voice guttural and full of weight.

“Like they want to fuck you.”

His claims have your eyes blown out wide, timbre compelling goosebumps across your skin at something so vulgar departing his mouth. You try to muster out a comprehensible thought for the sake of the two heroes, but the words are drawn back in your throat. Shouto catches your guarded look.

“Now, don’t go saying they’re just being friendly with you, baby. I mean look at them. Are those the faces of two men who just want to be friends with you?”

The air has suddenly grown tense, the tension so taut it could be cut with a butter knife. Hesitantly, you shift to meet Bakugou and Midoriya’s eyes to gauge a response from them. To your surprise, all you can perceive are the sheer expressions of shame painted on their faces—red smearing their cheeks with humiliation as they can’t help but glance at anywhere else but you.

“Well?” Shouto chimes in after you’ve fully grasped the reality of the situation.

Peering into his icy heterochromatic eyes, you gulp. You know you have no right to be lying to his face, no matter how much you insist it isn’t so.

“N-No,” you admit.

A grin curves on his lips before he kisses your cheek.

“Mm, smart girl.”

Despite you waving your white flag, Shouto doesn’t stop his touches from wandering your body. He palms at sensitive areas that leave you burning. Those whimpers you’ve desperately tried to conceal unfetter from your lips when his hands inch upon skin hidden beneath your clothing. His touches are firm with a mixture of warmth and coolness that has you holding your breath. The sensations cloud your thoughts, making you forget where you are as the other presences in the room now in the back of your mind.

Midoriya and Bakugou can’t bring themselves to look anymore—can’t bear to gaze at such intimacy they can never hope to attain. Especially when your cute noises leave a twitch in their pants, a feeling they fail to cast off in shame.

“Todoroki... you made your point, now please let us out of this ice,” Midoriya says through his dry lips. Though the verdant-haired hero knows he could free himself on his own with his strength, if Shouto has anything to say about it, he’d just conjure another pillar of ice as quickly as a snap of a finger to replace the shattered ones. Considering that’s what he’s done to keep the two of them from leaving thus far.

“You can’t be fucking serious about leaving us here, Icy-Hot,” Bakugou adds with far more hostility in his tone as he shoots a glare at the red and white-haired man.

The reminder that the top two Pro Heroes are still present in the same room as you while Shouto trails his large hands at every expanse of bare flesh he can find delivers a jolt of embarrassment throughout your body. Embarrassment that somehow kindles a lick of heat in your abdomen.

“On the contrary, this is only part one of what I have in store for you two tonight,” Shouto says, lips playing on the fine line of a smirk. “In fact, I plan on ingraining in your very minds that my love belongs to me and only me by making you two watch her come undone on my cock.”

There’s disbelief throughout the room, trying to comprehend the lengths behind his words.

“W-Wait, are we really doing this in front of them?” you sputter.

“If you’re that uncomfortable about this love, then I’ll simply leave them in this room and fuck you in the next one so they can at least hear every little thing I’m doing to you,” he offers, tone descending multiple steps that rack shivers down your skin as he circles your body, standing chest to your back.

“But having an audience entices you, doesn’t it? After all, look at how wet you are.” He hooks an arm below your leg, lifting it slightly so his free hand can slip into your panties beneath your skirt, no longer blocked by your thighs clenching together. You find yourself winding an arm behind his neck to keep balance. Your eyes shut tight from both mortification and pleasure at how he strokes your slit in front of the two heroes. Sure enough, there’s an abundant amount of slick gathered at your center, the shameful squelching at your throbbing cunt not eluding anyone’s ears in the room.

“Mmm, already such a drenched fucking mess. It’s like the fact that all three of us lust for you makes you even wetter,” he whispers into your ear like a red-winged devil professing your sins to you—sins you should feel disgraceful for, yet you can’t help the exhilaration simmering in your chest. After all, having three powerful, attractive men vying for your attention is nothing short of every girl’s dream. To deny the effects this has on your body would only add dishonesty to your list of sins. Shouto takes your silence as confirmation.

Parting from your panties, he reveals his fingers coated in your shiny essence to everyone in the room. Bakugou and Midoriya water at the sight, groans stifled under their breaths as the many nights of dreaming about how sweet you taste come back to hit them all at once. The saccharine dripping between your thighs is so close, and yet so far as Shouto remains firm on his word about keeping them bound throughout his show of dominance.

Though driven in such compromising circumstances, the two Pro Heroes can’t find it within themselves to tear their eyes away from you. Perhaps in actuality, a deep, dark longing inside them secretly confesses to wanting to watch you unravel amidst the throes of pleasure, even if your undoing is due to someone that isn’t them.

“What a naughty slut you are, admitting you get off at the thought of more than one man wanting to ravage this body of yours.” His lips brush against the shell of your ear, heightening your mortification and the ever-growing wetness at your center.

“However, I’m all you need, isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m the only man that can reduce you to this soaked, quivering mess from just my voice alone, and the only one whose cock makes your body shake with pleasure that leaves you sore for days.”

“Yes, Sh-Shouto…” you airily whimper in reply.

Shouto’s index finger presses against your trembling bottom lip, slightly smearing your slick on its plushness before he cups your face to stare directly at Bakugou and Midoriya.

“Go on then. Tell the Number One and Number Two Pro Heroes who you belong to,” he commands lowly in your ear. Before you can speak, heat ignites in your cheeks. You glance down and take note of the prominent bulges within the two’s tight clothing, their cocks positively aching to break free from the confines. The fact that the two seem to be getting off on the sight of you manhandled by Shouto is something to acknowledge.

“I… I belong to you…” Your voice wanes.

“Who? Be more specific, baby.”

“I belong to the Number Three hero, Todoroki Shouto,” you say, more clearly this time. The response is sufficient enough to satisfy the man behind you, who turns your head so your lips can connect in a passion of teeth and tongue dancing together that leaves your lungs gasping for air, detaching with ragged breaths. While you’re recovering, Shouto tugs you closer by your chin, pressing your foreheads against each other, where you gander into the depths of his gray and turquoise eyes swimming with lust.

“That’s right, and no one else is going to fuck you like I am tonight.” He sneaks a side-glance at his fellow heroes. “They can only watch as I drive my cock into your pussy over and over again, wishing they were me.”

Midoriya remains silent, letting his troubled expression speak for him, blush persisting on his face. Bakugou, on the other hand, decides to spit a few words out.

“Fuck. You.”

Make that only two words. Still, the venom dripping off each one gets his point across, in that he’s absolutely livid. But sadly for him, it has no effect on the calm and collected Todoroki Shouto.

Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the futon, sprawled out flat for your small audience to behold the entirety of your fucking tonight. Shouto kisses the back of your hand before leaving you to continue standing. He settles himself on the sheets with his arms propped behind him to view up at you as you obediently wait for his orders.

“Well, love, you know what to do. Take off some clothes for me,” he says gruffly. You oblige, slowly peeling off layers. Your skirt piles into a heap on the floor at undoing the zipper holding it in place, quickly followed by the blouse tossed over your head which leaves the remaining clothing on your body your mismatched lingerie. The dainty, silk intimates are the only thing separating you from being fully exposed to everyone.

Even given a sparing view of you from behind, Midoriya and Bakugou readily eat you up. If they somehow haven’t been undressing you with their eyes before this, then they certainly are now. Bakugou zeroes in on your pert ass, emphasized by your panties, and itches to grasp its softness in his own palms, desiring to squeeze, rub, and spank till his heart’s content.

Contrarily, Midoriya has his sights set on the clasp of your bra. What he wouldn’t give to unfasten it from your body and have the article of clothing slip off your skin, putting your beautiful breasts on display, nipples likely stiff and begging for the attention of his fingers and mouth.

It’s unfortunate for them that no such fantasies will come true tonight. After all, you don’t belong to them. You belong to Shouto.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, you rub your thighs together to create some friction between your lower lips, trying to subside the throb growing in your belly. But you can only endure for so long when Shouto is staring at you with such scalding intensity. You’re struggling to hold onto the remnants of your dignity before it’s stripped away from you at the next command.

“Baby, you’re gorgeous, but,” Shouto hums, admiring the view for a second longer before cutting to the chase, “I want it all off.”

Not wasting any time, your thumbs hook under the waistband of the silk, quickly casting the panties to join the pile below your feet. The way your web-like slick connects your folds to the material before breaking off as your panties reach the ground does not go unnoticed. Your bra, of course, is the next to be discarded—unhooked and tossed, unveiling your tits to the chilly air.

Defenses torn down, you stand bare and exposed to all eyes in the room. You don’t miss the glint flitting in the mismatch of Shouto’s eyes, staring at you like he’s uncovered a beautiful pearl beneath the ocean. Though this is far from your first time engaging in your sexual desires with him, you always fall prey to that carnal look of his, which seemed even more lecherous tonight. He runs a finger on his lips pulled into a seductive smile, eyes piqued at your naked form.

Prickles of arousal travel down your spine. You can’t discern whether it’s the very thought of your vulnerability or the fiery looks you swear are piercing into you at every angle that has you tingling with anticipation.

Either way, such spark coursing through your veins drives you into Shouto’s waiting arms as he beckons you to him. He welcomes you onto his lap, allowing your thighs purchase next to his own while his large hands grope at your soft skin. It isn’t long until your lips meet again, Shouto coaxing—no—prying them open with his tongue as it finds yours, brushing the underside and chasing with zeal. His roughness has you at a loss for words, quite literally as all you can respond with are the airy moans leaking out between each fervent lip-lock. When Shouto grabs at one of your mounds, index finger circling your perky nipple, you let out a surprised squeak.

Your two bystanders’ dicks stutter in response at the noises, having absolutely nothing to do but watch and listen in envy. Every time they hear such a sweet succession of sounds from you, they fidget in their positions, attempting to pathetically generate some pressure against their clothes to alleviate the pain in their cocks.

Shouto does not miss the way they struggle within his periphery, smirking at their pitiful attempts to find any form of relief. At this, a sly thought flickers in his head.

With his hands on your hips, he guides your body further against his own. You find your knees supporting you up while your upper body leans over Shouto, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you steady. The position he’s led you in doesn’t grant you many options, besides obliging to be pliant in his hands.

Peeking over your shoulder, you flush with heat when you realize your ass is perked in the direction toward Midoriya and Bakugou. The troubling thoughts of whether you should feel flustered or flattered by their mesmerized state at how spread you are, hovering above Shouto’s lap, is ripped away when the Pro Hero begins cascading his hands across your skin. His palms waver back and forth within the boundaries of your ass and thighs, every now and then squeezing your warm flesh during his crossings between the two.

“Mmm, Sho…” you whine, the palpable neediness in your voice begging for him to touch your throbbing center already. Bakugou and Midoriya wish for the same, tormented by how slow he decides to take his caressing. If it were up to them, they’d already be tongue deep in your pussy already, perhaps even bottoming their cocks inside your walls, considering how soaked you must be. But no, Shouto wants this night to last. And he’s going to set the pace however he sees fit.

One of Shouto’s hands creeps beneath your leg to maneuver them further apart before his palms find their place at the underside of your poised ass. A short sigh floats amid your parted lips at how he spreads your cheeks, exposing your cunt freely to the two. You hear a groan, followed by an obscene “fuck…” that has you wondering what the view must be like from their perspective to render them so awestruck.

And man, if only you could see your pretty little cunt—wet, glistening, and fluttering on nothing, pleading for stimulation. Stimulation that Shouto grants sparingly as his middle and ring finger suddenly prod your slit, tearing a surprised gasp from your mouth while you toss your head backward.

Your slippery pussy coats his fingers in an opalescent sheen. He hums at the debauched image of your body yearning his touch. “Such a slutty, needy pussy… So messy, even though I haven’t even taken my clothes off yet.” Shouto takes the sullied fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue at your delectable taste abiding his digits. It’s obscene how he makes a show of drinking up the honey from your thighs to taunt Midoriya and Bakugou, groaning between licks like it’s the one thing keeping him sustained. Well, then again, Shouto could probably survive on your essence for days if he tried, considering his favorite places to be is between your thighs anyway.

Head tilting in the direction behind you, you could’ve sworn you saw one of the two licking their lips while the other swallowed a large, heavy gulp. Before you can question it further, Shouto’s words resume ringing in your ear.

“It’s all for me right, love?” he asks as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

Your body quivers as he dives down to continue prodding your cunt before you can even respond properly. “Y-Yes, it’s just for you, Sho— Ah..!” You try your best to muster the words out. But his fingers give you no moment to spare. A jolt of pleasure spikes through your body as he reaches your clit, leaving your voice hanging in the air.

“Unnf... f-fuck...”

Shouto is relentless this time, attending to your bundled nerves at an excruciating rhythm that has you swaying your hips into his hands. Then all coherent thoughts are whisked away when you feel two fingers penetrating your sloppy pussy, thrusting into places you could never reach on your own, and prepping your walls for what’s to come.

“Baby, you take my fingers so well, you’re practically sucking them in,” he praises, reveling in the way you writhe in pleasure at him playing with your cunt. Whining, your legs move further apart involuntarily, allowing him deeper access.

You shake amid his ministrations, teeth pulling at your bottom lip at every sultry sensation rushing through your body. Wrinkling the fabric of his white shirt, your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails sinking deeper into clothed skin when you feel that familiar ache boiling in your abdomen.

“Your thighs are trembling just trying to hold you up. Going to cum soon, love?” Shouto asks. He chuckles at how vigorously you nod your head next to him, knowing your voice would fail you by the moans threatening to unravel precariously from your lips.

“Good, I want you to fucking scream. Show them how well you can cum from my fingers alone, yeah?” he murmurs beside your ear, not giving you much warning than that before suddenly increasing his movements on your cunt.

“Ah, Sho..! Sho!”

There’s nothing for you to do other than to chant his name over and over again like a mantra. You squeeze your fingers into his skin to make sure you don’t end up dissolving in his hands from the fire flaring inside you, threatening to melt you entirely.

And he loves every bit of the needy noises you make. Knowing it’s his name that echoes in the room around them, resounding in the very minds of his rivals who witness firsthand the way you scream out amidst the throes of pleasure—the scene better than any imagination of theirs they’ve conjured in their delusional fantasies—feeds Shouto’s ego deliciously.

The strained gasp you choke out when his lips make contact on your jawline has him smiling against you, the kisses he plants there blooming loving blemishes on your skin. You struggle to keep yourself together from all the sensations storming you at once. There’s something euphoric yet… foreign coursing through your body that you can’t discern, and you’re half-worried of what’s to happen when you reach your imminent release.

“Sh-Sho, wait..! Oh god, I’m gonna—!” you warn, but that only compels Shouto to speed up his pace in a last push for you to cum. From his bruising bites to his fingers methodically working you with skilled ease, it isn’t long until your escalating high peaks into intangible relief.

And god, the throb feels almost uncomfortable but so blissful at the same time.

The pressure builds up to an intense climax that has your walls clamping around his fingers, and your thighs shaking beside him while you yell out Shouto’s name. Holding you through every step of the way, his fingers steady inside you as you convulse around them. The ones at your clit continue rubbing your sensitive, swollen bud throughout your release to widen the intensity.

As your whole body trembles at the haze-induced orgasm, you lean against the hero for support.

“Ohhh baby...” His purrs rumble deep within his chest, an extra lick of delight in his tone. Your eyes are shut while you stumble down from your rapturous high, whimpering when Sho removes his fingers from your pulsating pussy.

“D-Did she just..?!” Midoriya questions incredulously, to your surprise.

“Fuck! I can’t believe she fucking squirted!” Bakugou follows.

At that, your eyes shoot open. You muster the energy to lift your body off Shouto’s lap and reveal to yourself the evident damp spot left on his pants from what you very much have to assume is a result of you gushing your release on him.

Trepidation creeps underneath your skin, swallowing you in mortification.

You really did that.

Squirted in front of the top three Pro Heroes in the country, making a mess on Sho’s pants with your flowing, translucent cum. The very reminder of it spouts your head with your overthinking.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to— I-I mean... I didn’t think I was ever a squirter. It’s just—”

“Love.”

A single word is enough to dispel your ramblings. You look up at Shouto like a deer caught in headlights, expression harrowed by apprehension. At that, he holds your shoulders, pulling you forward so he can press a reassuring kiss against your forehead. The tender gesture numbs the uneasy static racking through you, moving away to glimpse at the endearment hidden within the smoldering fog swirling in Shouto’s eyes.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures through hushed words he embeds unto your skin, hands warmly running down your sides. “Besides, you squirting on my fingers was so so sexy.” His seductive allure returns almost as quickly as it disappeared amidst his soothing tone. His touches and the extra flair in his voice makes you hot all over again despite just cumming.

“I must have made you feel incredibly good, getting you to cum so hard like that. Even giving those two over there a show. Just look at them...” Shouto whispers closely, nudging you in the direction of your onlookers whose reddening faces visibly recoil when your eyes cross. It’s as if they’ve gandered into the abyss—anxious at what’s to come yet can’t seem to look away. You flutter between their expressions, gauging their blushes and furrowed brows, before lowering your gaze at the prominent stain on the crotch of their pants, pre-cum seeping at the surface due to the arousal built watching you ruined on Shouto’s very fingers.

A part of you wonders how pent up they must be. Your curiosity dances upon lewd thoughts about how stiff their cocks are and how their lengths would look freed from the constricting clothing. Veiny, hard, and painfully red all because of you. All because of what Shouto is doing to you.

It evokes you with a newfound surge of confidence, finding solace in your sea of uncertainty. And coupled with Shouto’s loving demeanor, you don’t seem to remember what you were ever so self-conscious about to begin with.

“Look at how depraved these sad men are.” Shouto clicks his tongue, a voice in his head confirming of what he already long knew. Deep down, he at least assures himself that his former classmates are aware of their place. In which they’re only allowed to look—not touch—and if they so much as plunge into forbidden territory, he’d rise above the waters to bite their heads off. He recognizes this from just a simple inspection of their faces.

Deterring after hearing Shouto’s words, Midoriya’s eyes cast downward to the floor, brows softened with hurt. His expression is burdened upon not only stigma but guilt, lusting after a woman that isn’t even his while allowing the absurd thought he could steal you away from the fire-and-ice hero to ever cross his mind.

Meanwhile, the blonde mulls over in defeat more so than shame. Although never one to yield from a fight, Bakugou had long realized this battle was over before it even began. You were deftly out of his reach. All he can settle for now is the afterimage of your undoing played back in his head, the recording surrounded by a thick cloud of envy.

Shouto reads their compliance clearly—a wordless surrender witnessing your aftermath of pleasure. As a result, a grin surfaces his lips. Unfortunately for them, the sly devil latent inside him is far satiated. Perhaps it’s time to move onto the next course.

His fingers brush along the underside of your chin, leading your half-lidded eyes to him.

“Baby,” he says, and the way he calls to you in that low baritone makes you receptive to his every word, “why don’t you go over there and help our guests get their cocks out of their pants, hm?” You nod slowly, half-wondering if he read your mind during your indecent contemplation. Shouto kisses the corner of your lip before you stand from the futon and saunter toward the two pillars of ice resting in the room.

Your steps are slow and languid, the consistent sway of your hips hypnotizing to both sides. Reaching the two, you lower to your knees, bending forward and offering Shouto a view of your exposed cunt that still drips of your essence. He bites his lip, palming his bulge through his pants until he begins freeing himself of the unnecessary clothing that would have been discarded by now if he wasn’t so absorbed in your climax.

In the meantime, you kneel in front of the top two Pro Heroes, mooning over who to approach first until your red and white-haired boyfriend answers for you.

“Midoriya first. And then Bakugou.”

You can practically feel the fire lighting inside Bakugou at the command, knowing Icy-Hot gives the order in favor of Midoriya just to get under his skin. You do well to ignore his malice by crawling over to the green-haired hero, hovering above his bound form, and meeting his emerald eyes that are wide and fixated on your every move.

The proximity between you two has the air trapped in his lungs. He holds his breath out of fear that if he lets go, you’d vanish into a mirage. But his throat hitches the very moment your fingers trace up the fabric of his pants, disembarking across his thighs and toward his painful erection that twinges at your touch. It’s fortunate enough for him that you don’t disappear and that the sultry look you give him as you drag the zipper of his pants down isn’t a figment of his imagination. You catch a glimpse of his briefs, along with the head of his dick peeking above the waistband, still strained by a single layer of fabric.

Midoriya swears he can cum right then and there when you lightly palm his hardness—the first relieving sensation he’s felt all night before it’s surmounted by you tugging down the waistband. Cock released from its confines, it jumps forward out of excitement before slapping back against his navel. Midoriya hisses at being open to the air, his feverish skin stinging surrounded by the coldness throughout the room.

As you predicted, the Number One’s cock stands stout and protruding red at being neglected for so long. It begs to be touched.

“P-Please…” The whisper is almost inaudible, but you discern the desperation in his tone.

Midoriya’s pleading expression staring down at you nearly sways you to grant pity on him, but you know you’re given no position to do that. So sadly, you move on. The hero laments you leaving so soon, a whine quietly squeaking from him, left with nothing but his length stiff on his abs as you make your way to Kacchan.

Unlike the former, the blonde actually makes an effort to free himself one last time, a struggle you pick up on when you near him. He’s gritting his teeth together, heat slowly radiating off his body stoked by his anger. Yet that somehow all dissipates at a simple glance of your face. There’s a glassiness in your eyes that renders him silent.

His narrowed stare wanders toward your plush lips, looking so damn soft and kissable. If only he could muster the willpower to break free and move forward to capture them in his own, seal them tight so he wouldn’t have to hear Icy-Hot’s name spilling out of them anymore. But your steady gaze on him freezes him into the ice, halting his motions as if you were medusa. He hears nothing but his racing heart palpitating in his chest as he waits for you to make a move.

“Hm, Bakugou’s been a bit of a brat tonight, wouldn’t you say, love? How about you tease him a bit?” Shouto suggests mischievously.

Turning in his direction, you see him sitting on the bedding, naked and stroking his cock listlessly as he waits for you. The sight encourages you back to Bakugou’s erection to finish the task you started, thighs shuffling against each other at a glimpse of your prize between the Number Three hero’s legs.

As if you couldn’t get anymore seductive, you adjust yourself right between the blonde’s spread form, carelessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend forward, back arching. Bakugou has no idea what he’s in for, fearing for the worst knowing you plan to tease him. He starts muttering a question that never reaches your ear, the words splintering off when he deftly realizes you’re pulling his pant’s zipper between your fucking teeth. Making sure never to break eye contact with him, you drag the metal down at an excruciating pace, each tooth of the zipper undone so slowly it’s practically torture to him.

“Shit... Y/n…” he groans wantonly as you reach the end of your destination. After being contained all this time, it seems his cock wants to come out with a vengeance. You gasp when it suddenly springs past his briefs, nearly making contact against your cheek.

Bakugou sputters an filthy amount of curses, finding the image of you wincing in shock and glancing up at his thick cock towering next to your face with the tip oozing of his pre-cum to be utterly pornographic. Well if this is truly reminiscent of a porn scene, you’d be wrapping your hands around the base of his cock by now, fisting it before delightfully enveloping the tip in your hot mouth. But the call of your name behind you cracks that fantasy into pieces.

To his dismay, your attention swerves from the embossed vein lining Bakugou’s dick to Shouto’s muscular body, idle on the futon, where he gestures a finger at you. You return to your usual place atop his lap, except this time there’s no longer any barrier of fabric to prevent you two from feeling each other’s heat.

Shouto grazes his hands on your back, humming into your neck. “Well, baby, you saw how hard their cocks were. How does it feel to have the top three pros all craving you at once?”

You pause amidst your reply, the little kisses he brushes on your jugular serving to distract you for a moment. You have to ask yourself if your boyfriend is throwing a trick question at you. Giving it some thought, you decide to tackle it honestly.

“It feels... pretty good,” you murmur, a tad squeamish while he maps the expanse of your neck with his lips. It’s an answer he anticipates according to the next question he follows up.

“But of all the cocks in this room, whose do you want the most?”

“Yours, Sho.” Compared to before, your answer is given promptly. Shouto grins at how eager you are for him. “Only yours.” You affirm one last time, effectively hammering a nail into Midoriya and Bakugou’s chests. Shouto’s hands traverse your waist, then to your thighs, giving your flesh a solid squeeze.

“That’s right, you’re my fucking cock slut and no one else’s.” You almost choke when he lurches forward to grind his erection against your wet core, emphasizing your innate effect on him. Whimpering at the slippery friction of his hardness on your swollen clit, you find yourself moving in tandem with his motions.

“My my, still that needy even after you already squirted all over my fingers? Your pussy is just so so greedy for me, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes... F-Fuck, Sho, please let me put your cock inside me. I want to cum on your cock so much!” you plead, voice rising at every insufficient jerk of your hips. It isn’t enough to just rub your sensitive little pearl against it. You need the thing inside you since yesterday, and you’re more than willing to throw your last fragment of modesty out the window to get it.

Luckily for you, your neediness seems to work in your favor as Shouto has no objections at granting you your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, baby. I told you I’d be driving my cock in and out of you in front of them, didn’t I?” He runs his fingers on the edge of your cheek, admiring the cute desperation readable over your features—eyes glazed, skin hot, and cunt positively dripping. “Of course, I intend to keep that promise. But first…” He lays you two into his favored position, maneuvering your body until you’re straddling his thighs. He peers up at you while nestled back on the sheets.

“I suppose since I forced them here, the least we can do is continue giving them something to remember. It is going to be the first and last night they’ll see you like this anyway,” he reasons. The two mentioned pique hearing the statement. You yourself grow considerably hotter, realizing he’s angled you in a way that grants your audience another enticing view of your body above him.

“Well, princess, why don’t you start riding your stallion then?” Shouto incites his request as more of a command than anything else, and you begin earnestly catering to him by lifting your hips. You align his length toward your entrance. His calloused hands spread on your thighs at the anticipation of watching the head of his cock enter your wet heat.

“Ooooh yeah, keep going baby, take it all in,” he encourages through purrs reverberating in his throat. With each inch you swallow between your folds, his expression knits into pure bliss, brows narrowed at how well your tight pussy hugs his cock. He looks up and catches you slowly unraveling before his eyes. You strain to keep yourself together, eyes shut in pleasure at the delicious burn swelling in your stomach.

There’s a stifled noise parting your mouth that hangs open as you gradually envelop him to the shaft. Shouto’s thick cock slowly bottoms inside your walls and makes you feel so complete. While he lets you adjust to his sizable girth, his palms grope your skin, soothing the tense burn churning inside you.

“Mmph…” you whine, hands trying to find some leverage, laying flat on his abs. You give yourself a second, followed by another until the short pain you feel morphs into a delectable buzz.

“I… I’m going to move now, Sho,” you tell him before flitting up and down his long length, progressing tentatively. His heterochromatic eyes are dark and murky, watching his cock glisten in more of your sheen while you glide it into your pussy at a steady tempo. You make sure to take everything offered to you to the fullest, from the tip to base where his balls brush the underside of your ass. Shouto is more than endowed and you don’t ever plan on taking any part of his gift for granted.

“Mm, even after I prepped you, you’re still so tight for me,” Shouto groans, your cunt rippling waves in his body. Despite being consumed in your ministrations, you have to note how sinful he looks below you, sweat shining on his skin and tufts of red and white hair sticking to his forehead. It’s hard to believe a man as handsome as him could be so possessive with you, going through such lengths to prove to his rivals that you only belong to him. But man, do you find it to be hot. The notion once again has your cunt clenching considerably.

“It’s because—ah—you’re so th-thick,” you tell him, and in turn, he gives you a devilish smirk that adds fuel to the fire lighting in your abdomen. Before you can conjure another thought, he suddenly thrusts his hips up to meet yours, reaching a particular spongy spot that causes you to cry out.

“Why don’t we increase the pace then? Ride me faster, love. I want you to cum hard on my cock in front of them.”

Oh boy, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

You swiftly nod, gathering some ardor in your thighs that helps you bounce more fervently on top of him. What was once subtle claps chiming in the room escalates into a concert of skins slapping against each other. Gripping your hips, Shouto meets every heavy drop with a firm thrust upward, continuing to reach the same place that induces heaven across your entire body.

Your moans are uncontained now, flittering out at how good Shouto’s cock is making you feel. The sounds are beyond intoxicating to him, like a midnight song he could get drunk on and gladly switch to repeat.

Every slam into your spread pussy steals your words away while reducing him to hissing between his teeth, your folds enshrouding him with unimaginable euphoria that has his onlookers glaring in envy.

The sight is one that Midoriya and Bakugou will surely replay throughout their wistful days after tonight. Your breasts swaying in time with your sloppy movements is a marvel to gawk at as the two implant your glazed body bouncing atop Shouto into their memories, their deluded imaginations going to work at inserting themselves into the fray.

Your hips plunging in sync at each surge of Sho’s cock has stars twinkling across your bleary vision, eyes rolling in the back of your skull. His cock penetrates you in ways no one else could, brimming your body with sublime rapture that you relay honestly in your wails.

“Fuck, you feel so good—” Shouto mutters his praises. He effortlessly keeps up his drilling and angles himself perfectly so the tip reaches your erogenous zone throughout. His hands are digging so deep into your skin, you have no doubt your hips will be daubed purple by the end of the night.

Sweat thoroughly coating his body, his aggressive rutting into your velvet walls has his cock twitching inside you. He recognizes you’re nearing your climax as well when you slowly grip him like a vise. “Gonna milk me, love? Squeeze all the cum out of me and into that slutty pussy of yours?” He asks the question through grunts he spits between his teeth, the sounds coming out on the cusp of feral growls. He’s amused by how your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to form any kind of response. The rampant motions make it hard for you to grasp any sense of reality other than the sensations that collide your nerves.

“Y-yes, yes! I’m so close, Sho— Please—!” The moment you have a hand on your wheel of cognition, you start begging like it’s second nature, uncaring of the other two in the room as tears dot the edges of your lashes for relief. And how is Shouto to deny you when you’re playing such a lewd act?

“Need it so bad, n-need to cum— Ah—!”

In the very next second, your body dives to where your back forcibly lands snug on the futon, choking your words to a startling puff. Shouto shadows over you, leering down like he’s sizing his prey one last time before going in for the kill.

“Hm, since you’re begging so nicely for me, I’ll gladly help you reach your bliss, baby,” he says, tongue running along his bottom lip before he resumes driving into your pussy.

He hooks his hands beneath your knees to spread you apart further, giving his cock no repercussions on pistoning forward at unbridled speeds. Your fingers delve into the sheets, gripping the cloth like it’s your lifeline. You feel your lower body slightly lifting off the bedding due to Shouto wanting you two impossibly closer, cock thundering against you.

What you’ve yet to realize—trapped within your tornado of ecstasy—is your spectators freeing themselves from the ice, glaciers reduced to pieces at their powers. The whole exhibition had been too much for them to handle, quite literally snapping their restraints. Their clothes are gone within a flash, articles of them thrown half-hazardly on the floor. It leaves nothing to stop them from finally granting some form of bliss on their neglected cocks, fisting their lengths in conjunction with your symphony of moans.

That aside, they don’t matter to you at this moment. All you have eyes for is the man above you, whose heterochromatic gaze returns your shared adoration with equal fervor, if not more so.

“Well, love, you wanna cum, right? Then you know what to do,” Shouto grunts, lowering his torso so he can close a bit of the distance between your faces, “Tell me, who’s making you feel this fucking good right now?”

Brain a scrambled mess, you’re thankful the answer you scrounge for is a simple one.

“You, Shouto! Unnf, it’s your cock that’s making me feel good!” you exclaim, your back bowing off the bed when you perceive the coil tight in your abdomen nearly about to break. Your wanton reply has him sending his satisfaction back tenfold into you through the expert rocking of his hips.

“Yesyesyes, oh fuck— Y/n, cum all over my cock! Let go, baby!”

You scream the moment the order is given, Shouto slamming into your g-spot the impetus you need to come undone in violent spasms. Firecrackers spark beneath your skin at the ecstasy hitting your every nerve. Seeing you reach the apex of your high—eyes lidded and limbs trembling as you throw your entire body into the sheets—encourages Shouto toward his release, pumping himself in and out of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck! Y/n!” he pants raggedly before snapping his hips in place, dick twitching inside you. A gasp rips your throat as you feel his thick ribbons of white cum fill you to the brim. Shouto remains inside you for a good minute longer, hovering over your sluggish, sweaty body to seize your lips in his while you two slowly descend from heaven. You move sweetly and slowly against him, savoring the moment in the presence of his tender loving.

Meanwhile, Midoriya and Bakugou have already blown their loads all over themselves, creamy spurts painting their skin. They lean back to find their groundings, unable to even speak after what was surely an excruciating event for them both.

You’re still unsure how to go about confronting the aftermath of it all, deciding to only imbed your eyes onto Shouto due to the embarrassment that starts simmering in your mind now that you’ve come down from your highs. Your fingers rise to swipe a few stray strains of damp red-and-white hair off your boyfriend’s forehead, murmuring something kept between the two of you.

“Going through all of this just because you were jealous? You sure are insatiable, Sho.”

He chuckles at the jest behind your words, giving the other Pro Heroes a once over before he comes back to you with a satisfied grin plastered on his face, making you question whether his devilish tendencies have truly left him after tonight.

“What can I say? I guess I just want to monopolize you, baby.”

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[chaos-burst]

ooh, 60. "A day at the zoo, is what you need." with fearne? or 1. "It's called a safety pin for a reason" ft ashton mayb :3 have a good day ♥!

It’s not like Ashton is dumb. Sure, maybe he’s not the brightest candle on the chandelier, but they’re well aware of their own emotions even if he doesn’t much talk about them. Feelings are, most often, a fucking nuisance and also damn embarrassing—which says a lot because Ashton is rarely embarrassed by anything.

And to be fair, this specific type of emotion is not really embarrassing. Not per se.

It’s just that the person Ashton has those feelings for is embarrassing.

If someone had asked him two months ago if he could ever be into a rich boy from a noble family Ashton would have laughed so hard their head might have cracked a little further. So it’s easy to imagine the fucking disgrace Ashton feels when he first discovers that they have the hots for Dorian fucking Storm.

The pristine, awkward and somehow still charming bard of all people. Ashton would have preferred to be horny for Imogen or Laudna, or really pretty much any other member of his newest ragtag group of idiots—well. Maybe not letters, because that would be awkward and weird, even for them.

Ashton is aware that, objectively, Dorian is handsome. Maybe even fucking pretty. Whatever. But that doesn’t mean that Ashton has to be into him.

There are hundreds of hot people who aren’t rich boys.

Ugh.

But now that it’s come to that Ashton would feel foolish to pretend that the attraction isn’t there. He enjoys watching Dorian play music. They enjoy the shy smiles and the awkward laughter, mostly because he imagines Dorian getting flustered as fuck if someone made sexual advances on him.

Something that Ashton won’t do.

Seriously.

They have standards.

And Dorian has enough people fawning over him, it’s not like he needs another admirer who wants to get into his perfectly clean pants.

Ashton can keep looking at Dorian when no one else notices it and imagine what kind of pretty sounds he might make if Ashton sucked on his neck or pulled his always terribly orderly hair.

Fuck, Ashton would love to get his hands on that.

Before he met the others they would never have been concerned about someone finding out about their secret masturbation fantasies but now Imogen hangs around them and Ashton wonders if she’s ever been hit by the unwanted picture of Ashton holding Dorian down and making him sing.

As long as it’s just being horny Ashton can deal. They’ve been horny for many people in their life. And if the next person he picks up in a bar they go to is a blue-skinned tiefling with long hair, then there’s nothing wrong with that.

Or with the weird disappointment that comes after they wake up in the morning and have a sleepy and still half-drunk second of thinking that the blue-skinned person next to him is someone else.

It happens.

Shit happens all the time.

Especially to Ashton.

Most of the time Fearne and Orym have the pleasure—or the privilege—to share a room with Dorian when they stay at an inn or a tavern, but from time to time, if them taking watches in turns aligns just so, Ashton and Dorian end up in the same tent or next to one another in their bedrolls.

And oh, Ashton is tempted.

Dorian, that fucking nuisance of a blueberry, even looks pretty while he’s asleep. Ashton is one of those people who sleeps with their mouth wide open while snoring. Dorian just looks like a princess from a fairy tale who’s waiting to be kissed awake.

Fuck him and his pretty face.

Preferably in a very literal sense.

“You’re staring”, Imogen says quietly as they sit around the campfire, roasting some type of bird that Orym got for them.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring. At Dorian?”, Imogen clarifies and nods towards Dorian who sits with his back against a tree, his lute in his arms. He’s been playing softly for a while now, his eyes closed while he hums quietly.

Ashton turns his head to look at Imogen.

“Did I accidentally harass you with my indecent thoughts?”, they ask, feeling like it doesn’t make any sense to keep his sexual attraction a secret from someone who reads mind frequently.

Imogen’s smile is tired and a little pained, but she pats Ashton’s shoulder and shakes her head.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at blocking you guys out, don’t worry. Your ‘indecent thoughts’ are your own.”

“Well, thank fuck for both our sakes”, they say with a grin. Imogen snorts.

“That bad, huh?”

Ashton shrugs.

“I could do without it. It’s fucking distracting.”

Imogen looks at him from the side and smirks slightly. Then Ashton hears her voice in their head.

“Could just try to get it out of your system”, she says inside their head.

“Nah. I have standards.”

Imogen raises an eyebrow at him.

“He’s perfectly nice and handsome.”

“Yeah, I’m fucking aware. Too nice for my tastes.”

Imogen shakes her head and doesn’t say anything in return, so Ashton allows his gaze to travel back to Dorian who’s eyes are now open. When their eyes meet Ashton throws Dorian a wide grin. Dorian blinks and a smile that looks almost uncertain appears on his pretty face.

If Ashton’s head wasn’t already cracked they would very much like to bang it against the next best tree.

*

Ashton really didn’t need to see Dorian in an almost transparent chiffon outfit because Fearne urged him to show it to the others to demonstrate how great Dorian looked during some fucking pageant in a shithole called Byroden.

Seeing all those toned muscles does nothing to make his traitorous dick any less interested.

Fuck Dorian and his fucking abs.

*

“You seem a little grumpy, Ashton. Anything I can help you with?”, Letters asks him while they spend their evening in the fanciest tavern Ashton has ever been to. The glasses are too small and clean for their tastes, but Dorian seems entirely delighted by those ridiculous napkins and way too small portions of food.

“’M good”, they say and throw back another shot.

“You sure? You seem on edge for some reason. Does your head hurt again? I could take a look at that if you’d like.”

“It’s not my fucking head, it’s what’s inside it. Never mind”, he says and waves at the waitress to get another glass. FCG looks at them with their head cocked.

“If something inside your head is wrong I definitely should—“

“Nothing you can cure, okay? It’s just my brain being an annoying dickhead. Don’t worry about it.”

He knows that FCG will worry, of course, because they always do. But it’s not like Ashton is about to tell a fucking automaton that he’s been having blue balls for over a month now because they can’t seem to get Dorian fucking Storm out of his damn head.

Maybe Imogen is right and Ashton should just get it out of his system.

But Dorian doesn’t seem the type for fucking around—and especially not the type for fucking around with people like Ashton.

So he throws another shot back and ignores the feeling that seems to pull him forward and towards Dorian.

*

All of Ashton’s good intentions are thrown out of the window when one of their jobs goes sideways and he finds himself running through a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, dragging a panting Dorian behind them by the wrist.

“I don’t think—we can—outrun them”, Dorian pants as Ashton pulls him around a corner and into the darkest alleyway yet. They can hear footsteps and calls only a few meters behind them. Ashton is ready to throw hands until he feels a pair of hands pulling on his vest.

“What are you doing?”, Ashton hisses.

“Get this off, I have an idea”, Dorian hisses back and before Ashton can either protest or ask what exactly Dorian’s plan is Dorian has ripped half his vest open.

“Why is this such a pain to get off?”, Dorian whispers frantically.

“It’s called a safety pin for a reason!”

Any of Ashton’s further questions disappear into the darkness along some of the safety pins that hold their vest closed as Dorian pulls the rest of it apart and throws it to the side.

Ashton makes an undignified noise as Dorian throws away his cloak and opens his pants.

“Let’s pretend to make out!”, he hisses.

Ashton opens his mouth. Usually they wouldn’t be caught off guard by a suggestion like this. Hell, he’s wanted to make out with Dorian for over a fucking month. But right now they find himself speechless.

“Okay?”, Dorian asks hurriedly.

Ashton finds himself nodding a second later they can feel a way too soft pair of lips pressing against his mouth.

His body only needs a heartbeat to react as their brain turns itself off and his body takes over.

Ashton grabs Dorian and turns them around so that Dorian’s back is pressed against the wall. And then they’re kissing for real.

Not a chaste first kiss or a testing of lips against lips to find out how to move together.

It feels more like two starving people being offered a fucking feast after weeks without food. Somewhere in the back of his head Ashton is aware that they make a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as he presses his crotch against Dorian’s thigh and Dorian simply seems to melt against them.

Long, strong arms wrap around Ashton’s neck and pull them even closer.

He has forgotten all about the people chasing them as they bury their fingers in Dorian’s long, silky hair to pull on it. The noise Dorian makes is even better than Ashton has imagined it and to hell with whoever is trying to shank them in this fucking alleyway, Ashton is going to make the most of this.

When he drops to their knees Dorian makes a whimpering sound that puts a wide grin on Ashton’s face but he doesn’t get as far as they intended because in that moment people round the corner and immediately stumble backwards, cursing, as they take in the picture of Dorian’s opened pants, Ashton’s naked upper body, Dorian’s tipped back head with his mouth slightly open and his eyes almost closed.

“Let’s try this way”, one of the bastards says and a moment later they’re gone.

Ashton takes a deep breath and sits back on their heels as he looks up at Dorian. His blue cheeks are flushed purple, his eyes glassy and he licks his lips as he looks down at Ashton kneeling in front of him.

“Well—“, Dorian croaks and clears his throat. “That was—uh. Sorry for springing that on you all of a sudden.”

Ashton resists the urge to get back up and swallow Dorian’s apologies.

“It was a great plan”, Ashton says weakly and gets back on his feet to look around for their vest as Dorian takes care of his pants and bows down to get his cloak.

“Great plan. Yeah. Really—uh. Shall we?”

“After you, your Highness”, Ashton says with a mocking bow and he manages a grin as Dorian walks past while rolling his eyes.

They’re not sure that this counts as getting it out of his system. At all.

[kiatheinsomniac]

1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something where Ezio's wife is feeling quite insecure because she feels like she isn't as good as some of the other women Ezio has "been" with like Caterina and Ezio is trying to assure her that she shouldn't feel like that

Of course!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get round to this, I've hardly been active on Tumblr at all in quite a while but I miss it here :(

She glanced over to where the Contessa was being checked over by a doctor while Ezio worriedly looked over her. Deep down, she knew that he was only concerned because she was a powerful ally to the brotherhood and her arrest at the hands of the Borgia had put her contribution to that alliance in jeopardy. But she couldn't help but fear that he was worried because they had a history together.

Claudia had told (Y/n) enough of what her husband was like in his youth - romancing every attractive woman he laid eyes on. On good days, this made her feel special - she were the one he married, after all - but on worse ones, it made her worry that he felt he could do better and go back to some of these women. Ezio was a faithful man, especially when it came to family, but this didn't stop her from worrying that she may not quite reach what he's been treated to by other women in his past.

She must have been glaring a little too hard though, because soon enough, Claudia was by her side, her arms folded.

"The woman is fine, I have a meeting to attend and he’s holding it up to fuss over her.” She snapped in disdain, her voice lowered as to not carry across the stone walls of Isola Tiberina’s Assassin hideout. 

“I don’t like it.” (Y/n) confessed, her eyes shooting daggers at the Contessa of Forli. Claudia raised a brow at the acid in her tone, finding it so unlike her sister-in-law to be so bitter. Glancing over at Claudia’s expression of surprise, she stepped her way out of the conversation to go and fetch Ezio. He had duties as Mentor of the Brotherhood and she had the claws of jealousy tying knots at her like a marionette. Emotions were something personal to (Y/n) and she wouldn’t watch herself become a wreck over some half-disgraced woman who had lost hold of her city. 

She could remember Ezio telling her how impressed he was to see a woman running a city all on her lonesome once... 

She cleared her throat, dismissing the thought as she did.

“Ezio, our contacts are waiting for you.” She spoke up, her face and voice the mask of business to hide her feelings. 

“Sì, I just-” 

“Bartolomeo has barracks to attend to, Volpe has a tavern to maintain and Claudia has a brothel to run.” She cut him off, watching as he turned his head quickly to face her, his expression a lock of shock and offence, “While they wait for you, their factions wait for them. You keep our entire Brotherhood on hold in a most dire hour to fuss over the Contessa who I’m sure if capable enough of getting her own health in order with the medico.” Ezio had stood now from Caterina’s side, bewildered at his wife’s ill temper. 

“Amore-“

“You have a job to do so go do it!” She snapped, “I have recruits to attend to and correspondence to deal with.” And with that said, she stormed off to the study in order to deal with the letters sent from the Brotherhood’s contacts across Italia. 

She set the few recruits that she had gathered in Roma some training assignments and filed through all the available contracts in the Mediterranean, even going as far as to reorganise all the books of the study’s library. All of this was done to avoid going to bed, knowing that Ezio would be there and knowing that he wold ask her about her attitude from earlier. 

It was when she was obsessively trying to get the paperweights in position that the door opened. In stepped the last man that she was willing to face in that moment: her poor husband who had suffered the brunt of her lashing out in jealousy. 

“Gioia,” He began, his tone soft yet cautious, “come to bed.” 

“But I need to sort these out…”

“I’m sure that the papers won’t grow wings and start flying any time soon.” He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and inhaling deeply as he pressed his face to her neck, “Come, I want to hold you and talk.” 

“I just need...” She obsessively tried to get the weight to fit between the lines of the letter perfectly, some part of her mind telling her that everything would be alright if all these little things were exactly where they needed to be, that she wouldn’t have to talk about her feelings if she just got these other things sorted out first. 

“You need to lay down with your husband,” One of his palms splayed across her stomach, tenderly rubbing up and down as his other hand caressed her waist, “and let him hold you in his arms,” A soft kiss pressed to the nape of her neck, “and tell him all about what has you so stressed. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah, except the talking about my feelings bit.” She mumbled as the weight refused to quite fit between the lines, tears pricking her eyes, even if she tried to laugh a little. Ezio hummed knowingly. 

“Come on…”

“Ok...” She surrendered, letting him lead her upstairs with one arm around her waist while his free hand held her own, smaller, hand in his. 

He lead her up to their room where he began to strip her of her clothes that day, leaving her in a chemise. He frowned in sadness at her apathy, the way she didn’t melt into his touches as she usually would, and worry set into his veins. 

He pulled her to the bed where he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow while she laid on her back, her bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and jaw held tight in determination to keep a cool composure. 

“What has upset you?”

“It’s stupid.” She replied simply, “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or worried you, you don’t deserve that.” She took in a quick breath and covered her face with her hands, a small sob escaping her lips, each one that followed like a pair of scissors to his heartstrings. 

“If it’s making you feel this way, it can’t be stupid.” He rested a hand on her arm and she turned away from him, her hand gripping the case of the pillow under her head impossibly tightly. 

“It’s the Contessa.” She mumbled into the plush pillow, her cheeks already heating up in humiliation, “The way you risked your life to save her today and then you were fussing over her health and...” 

“Amore, you know that I would do all the same and more for you.” He spoke, almost in disbelief that this is what she was so upset about. There was a long silence as she wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping that somehow she could physically hold herself together with her arms. 

“Why did you marry me?” Fresh tears wet her cheeks and she muffled the sound of her crying in the sheets. He drew closer to her and held her in his arms, feeling her frame jolt with each sob. 

“Because I’m in love with you.” He replied simply, “I’m in love with the way you see the world and people, I’m in love with your passion and humour and intelligence.” He squeezed her tightly. 

“But you could have had any woman you pleased, any woman you’ve been with before. The countess of Forli: the only woman strong enough to run her own city and even fend off Borgia armies.” She hesitated but now that she had bottled up such strong emotions all day, the glass had cracked and no one could hold in its contents lest they slice their hands on the glass. “And don’t think I didn’t overhear that night back in Monteriggioni when I was still just the decipherer Leonardo had sent for the codex pages.” 

Once upon a time, this would have been a time for Ezio to be boastful, but now that he was a married man, he only felt rather embarrassed instead. Looking away for a moment, his eyes came back to land upon his wife. 

“You worry that you don’t live up to the women I’ve had before then?” He asked cautiously, knowing that this question may well only make things far worse if he were wrong. 

“She’s a fucking countess who runs her own city and has her own armies, not to mention the fact that she’s also very clearly good in bed. Who am I? The goddamn babysitter of all the recruits.” She threw her hands up in the air before rolling onto her back and turning her head to face him, at last, with teary eyes. 

“You, amore mio,” He began, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, turning his body even more so in her direction, “are the woman who stole my heart so quickly, that I simply couldn’t wait to marry you.” It was true, they had only been seeing each other for just over 18 months when he asked her to marry him. “You’re an Assassin who is fighting for everyone in Roma and then all of Italia behind her borders.” A conviction began to grow within his voice as he took up her left hand in his, holding it up so that she could see her wedding and engagement rings. “You are the only woman in this world that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He brought her hand up to place a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have had histories with women before, we both know this… But they are the past and you,” He leaned down to place a soft kiss upon her lips, lingering and tender, “are my future.” 

A small smile quivered upon her lips as fresh tears welled in her eyes, tears of an overwhelming sentiment of love. 

“I love you with all my heart, Ezio.”

[royalty-subway]

Ooooo i have one!

How would the twins react to swapping bodies with their s/o for a day?

Oof. Not gonna lie, but I had that idea for a while-

Glad someone had the balls to say something.

Oof. I think it would depend if their s/o was a dude or a girl (or non-binary or something else, I’m just mainly talking about the body itself, but this is a Christian server so we’re not going there-).

Sordward

Well, he’ll probably freak the FUCK out. Like, how is this even possible??? He just fell asleep and then boom, he’s now you and you’re him.

He probably tries his best to get help from someone, like from his younger brother, but even he doesn’t know how the fuck to solve this. He’ll probably ask Sonia about it in the most panicky and rude way possible, because in his words “she’s smart, and smart people know how to solve things-” (and of course she told him to get the fuck out-)

I think for the rest of the day he’ll try to figure out how to solve this as soon as possible and still being panicked as fuck, while you probably accepted your fate in being the new peepee hair man in town-

And don’t you DARE do anything that he wouldn’t do. Like, putting his hair down in a ponytail or making the funny Eggman announcement on Twitter. He’ll be kinda pissed and embarrassed-

But he sort of calmed down when the day ended, mainly because he was really tired and maybe you decided to calm him down a bit (which he appreciates it). I suppose he’ll figure out something tomorrow, he just needs to sleep- NEVER MIND EVERYTHING IS BACK TO NORMAL NOW, GET FUCKING NAE NAE’D ON-

Shielbert

Well, like his older brother, he’ll freak out a lot. Like, he’s a dude that panics, and then tells everyone to “calm down”, and then starts panicking again because THIS ISN’T NORMAL-

I mean, he might ask people about how to solve this, and pretty much no one believes or helps him aside from his older brother, maybe. Mainly because he sounded insane when he explained the situation.

… Huh. It’s kinda weird to see the world from another person’s perspective. Like, he’s royalty and he did some disgraceful stuff, right? It’s kinda weird to be treated differently, as if he wasn’t royalty and did nothing wrong.

Although, now you’re the one who’s being treated like shit. And he doesn’t want that. So it’s kinda likely that you’ll both just get away from the public and do something else, whether it’s just trying to relax (and failing) or think of ways to solve this.

Like, you guys sort of tried to live the day normally while thinking about a solution. Yeah, he’s still panicky about it. But he calms down just a bit, not much. Until he just woke up the next day, back in his own position. Man, what a day-

Emmet

He probably thought this was a fever dream, if anything. But like, seeing from your perspective for some reason. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GUYS SWITCHED BODIES-

Actually, kinda pog not gonna lie. But also weird as fuck. I think out of everyone, he panics the least because he couldn’t really 100% care. All he literally does is play games and sleep because he’s a mood.

I mean, maybe Ingo would care more than he does. And it’s sort of up to Ingo if he should either bring you or Emmet to work. Or none and attempt to get help or solve whatever the fuck this is. If you both decide to tell Ingo, that is.

Like, he’s open with the idea of pranking Ingo, like you pretending to be him while he pretends to be you. It sounds fun. Although, it depends on how well your acting is of him. Just say “I am Emmet” and everything should work out just fine.

He can spend the entire day pretending to be you; which is basically simping and playing video games. That was until the next day everything was back to normal somehow- (and now he doesn’t need to visit Arceus-)

Ingo

It probably took him a while to notice, like, whether he looks at his hand or in a mirror. That kind of thing. And of course he sort of freaks out about this. I mean, it sort of shows on his facial expression.

I mean, compared to Sordward and Shielbert’s reaction, he’s a bit more calm about it. Like, he’s still panicking, but not as much since he isn’t really a guy that expresses emotions much. And he knows panicking won’t help.

So uh. He’ll probably confront you about this and come up with some kind of plan. Since he has a job to do and you have whatever you’re doing. So getting help would be difficult.

I mean, if you have nothing that day. Then he’ll definitely be with you when it comes to working in the subway. Mainly to help you and make sure you don’t make a complete ass of yourself when you’re playing his position.

I mean, he’ll definitely try to get help either way, even while helping you. But it ends up useless since no one could’ve helped him. And he’s pretty stressed out about it. Are you two stuck like this forever? How did this even happen? I mean, not like it matter since this just last a day-

[1kook]

card swiped (3)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love.  GENRE romance, smut, teensy angst WARNINGS eventual smut, mentions of sex, virginity plays a huge role OTHER college crushes, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, volleyball player!jk, student council pres!oc, seokjin is 32... and a a coach lol<3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.5k

NOTES (!) seokjin being a hot 32 year old <3 jk gets progressively more dumb as it goes, prayer circle <3 lmk what u think !

[ masterlist ]

The truth is, the reason Jungkook doesn’t lie that much is because he’s terrible at it. 

His mother had found out soon enough who put that dent on the car after a slip-up at the dinner table. His high school coach had learned he had purposely skipped out on practice after an accidental snapchat and jealous teammate had snitched. And, well. Fifteen minutes after the end of practice finds him sitting outside the gymnasium, a grimace on his face as he considers running back to your room and confessing to all his lies. Admitting he’s still a virgin— which was practically of no use to you —and maybe even revealing his own recently uncovered feelings was the easy way out. 

Thankfully, Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is there to knock some sense into him. The hard plastic of the clipboard they use to outline their attacks smacks him hard over the head, making Jungkook’s bones rattle from his skull down to his toes as he steps up behind him. He whirls around to glare at the perpetrator, only to come face to face with the aforementioned assistant coach. “Go home,” Seokjin says, twirling the gym keys in one hand. “I’m trying to lock up.”

“What’s stopping you,” Jungkook huffs, tucking his knees to his chest, ignoring the awfully rude manner in which Seokjin nudges him away, foot against his back as if he’s just an annoying pile of cardboard boxes in his way.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Seokjin asks casually, doesn’t sit next to Jungkook on the steps because he’s always been a little too posh. According to Taehyung, Kim Seokjin graduated from some elite university in another country with near immaculate all-around player statistics before Jungkook even knew what a volleyball was. His success and fame in the world of collegiate volleyball is why he never wears the standard-issued slippers around the court, always some high-end, luxury brand. One glance slightly to his left has Jungkook meeting the black stripe of the frequently sought after Givenchy sneakers head on. 

He scoffs, a sound that Seokjin doesn’t approve of if the karate chop he lands on the back of his neck is anything to go by. “Ow,” Jungkook flinches, pushing him away with an irritated sigh before eventually slumping over his knees again because it’s the exact same thing you do to him sometimes. Study nights— dates, his brain supplies now —where he begins gazing off into space are filled with numerous karate chops to the neck in an effort to get him to focus on his homework. “Come on, Jungkookie,” you always tease, playful smile, lithe fingers toying with the corners of the pages in your book in a way that was almost sensual. But then he does a double-take because he’s aware of the rose-tinted lens he’s unknowingly slapped over it, something he would have maybe not noticed pre-realization of his feelings. And even he is shocked by the absolute seductiveness his brain inserts into an otherwise innocent memory. He’s pretty sure you haven’t called him Jungkookie in years— was his brain trying to hint at something here?

Jungkook groans, knocking his head against his knees as a form of self-punishment for his lecherous thoughts concerning his best friend. 

But his show of emotions must move Assistant Coach Kim because, after a moment of trying to concuss himself against his own knee, there’s a hand placed on his shoulder that makes Jungkook pause. He doesn’t even bother turning around, just throws his head back to look at Seokjin upside down. He’s got a double chin from this angle. “It’s a girl, isn’t it,” his coach sighs, looking at Jungkook with what can only be described as an unimpressed expression. 

“No,” Jungkook defends even though it’s true. “Can’t I just be sad for oth—“

“I heard Jimin call you a simp on the way out,” Seokjin says rather bluntly. And then he surprises Jungkook a second time as he throws aside his posh status to sit on the dirty concrete steps beside him with a sigh. “What did you do?” 

See, Jungkook could lie here and prance off to deal with his own problems. Leaving Seokjin and everyone else in the dark concerning his personal life was, honestly speaking, the smartest thing to do. He didn’t mind his volleyball teammates and friends (in this case, his coach), but he also wasn’t too fond of being relentlessly teased throughout the entire five or more hours they spent together almost every day of the week. 

But also… 

If what Taehyung had said is true— that being, if Kim Seokjin is the illustrious bachelor who charmed his way into multiple foreign panties all whilst demolishing the spirits of liberos and defensive specialists in another country —then Jungkook needed to capitalize off his presence immediately. 

So he lays his cards out flat. “I… might’ve told my best friend I’d take her virginity,” he blurts out, turning to face Seokjin. For the most part, the older man doesn’t look too surprised. If anything, mildly amused. Jungkook quickly adds, “while also being a virgin.” 

“You’re a what,” Seokjin exclaims, chokes on his own saliva in an admittedly not Casanova, bachelor-esque fashion that ends with him coughing into his elbow and Jungkook hurriedly patting his back. “You?” Seokjin repeats once he’s composed himself. “Are a— don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm. “No, Coach. I do not have a girlfriend,” he emphasizes, because who knew sharing the details of his (lack of) sex life would be this embarrassing? 

Seokjin frowns. “What about that girl?” he asks, and Jungkook raises his brows. “You know the one. Carries around stacks of papers to sign, goes to all the games. The one who pats you on head all the time.” And he’s talking about you, of course he is, but the insinuation that other people might, maybe, possibly, perceive you as his girlfriend makes Jungkook malfunction. 

“She’s— That’s—“ he sighs, dropping his head down until his chin touches his chest, brushed against the lucky necklace you’d given him two years ago during their first trip to Nationals. “That’s… my best friend.” 

Beside him, Seokjin says, “the one you’re gonna fuck?” 

Jungkook lets out a long exhale. “Yes. The one I’m going to fuck.” And it’s so blunt and crude, not that it’s surprising coming from him, but it’s surprising because he’s talking about you. Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love. 

The thought must show on his face because Seokjin snorts. “Well, good luck.” 

And then he stands up and begins walking down the sidewalk and Jungkook can’t spring up fast enough. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his forearm. He feels like a dorky character in those dramas you like so much, the ones you force him into watching every time he comes over. Like he’s some disgraced son looking for his father’s approval. Except Assistant Coach Kim is neither his father nor someone he really wants approval from anyway. 

What he does want is pointers. From an experienced pro, if you will. 

Jungkook has to swallow down all his pride as a man to ask his next question. “H- How do I—“

Seokjin beats to it him with a flick to the forehead. “I’m your volleyball coach, kid,” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not your sex coach.” It’s a sensible rejection, one that Jungkook expected, but still. He deflates, let’s the weight of the world and his heavy gym bag nearly knock him onto the ground. 

But Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is kinder than he lets on and, after one annoyed sigh, let’s him in on the secret Jungkook has been chasing for all his life. (Or, well, for the past few hours since he first propositioned you.)

“The key to impressing your partner is to always act like you know what you’re doing,” he tells him, arms crossed over his shoulders. It’s night now, the campus shrouded in darkness. But Jungkook swears a heavenly light shines down on Kim Seokjin just then, a halo appearing over his head when he jabs a finger against Jungkook’s chest. “Confidence is sexy.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” Jungkook repeats, feels like a kid who’s just met his favorite wrestler after years of being an avid fan, watching every match, memorizing every finishing move, collecting every figurine— it’s a little too specific but it makes sense in Jungkook’s case. You would understand this analogy perfectly, having grown alongside him during his iconic wrestling phase (before volleyball). You had indulged him in his interest, had let him practice those Do Not Try at Home moves on you again and again, even when you knew it ended with you bruised and crying, the twin pigtails you used to rock as a kid uneven and messy. But as your best friend, you had let him twist your arm and pin you to the count of three, because that’s what a good best friend did. 

And as your best friend, Jungkook was gearing himself up to completely, thoroughly rock your virgin world. Because that’s what a good best friend did.

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