ninrixs

Latest Posts by ninrixs

Swapping Secrets and Spit (*NSFW*)

Pairing: D.M x Gryffindor! Reader Summary: You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? W/C: 2.9k Tags: Sexual Content / cock teasing / oral stimulation (f/m) / face fucking A/N: NSFWWW. Lmao this got out of hand so fast LMAO [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

You exited transfigurations class and straight into the chaos of the hallways. Students coming from every corner attempting to make their way to their next class. Now usually was the perfect time for you and Draco to spot each other in the crowd and find a place to speak briefly. The roaring conversation of the students and the clamoring of their feet distracted most people from noticing the Slytherin Prince talking with a no-name Gryffindor.

You didn’t dislike Harry, that wasn't why you were feeding information to Draco at all. To be honest you were fascinated by him, and had a close schedule with the bunch to be able to inconspicuously listen and hear what they were up to. It wasn’t until your third year when Draco ultimately started teasing you about your involvement with them when you stood up for yourself. He found it surprising, and more interesting that you were bold enough to separate yourself from the Gryffindor heart throb.

Again.. You didn’t hate Harry Potter. But the interactions with Draco made you feel something, and if it meant just relaying information that was harmless to be in a room alone with him, you’d do it.

Some would call it a dumb hopeless crush, but you didn’t see anything wrong with it. It wasn’t something you told your friends about or Draco would let his goons know about. It was your own little secret. And you loved it.

You looked around casually as you descended the stairs to the main hallway. You waited to notice the blonde boy in green robes before you walked towards a broom closet just out of sight from the passing students. Waiting in the dark, you sat fiddling with your book bag trying not to look awkward.

It took a few minutes but Draco cracked the door open, and snuck his body in, his chest heaving. You look at him, eyes wide, unsure why he was worked up.

“Crabbe is actually going to be the death of me. The way he trips over his own feet is embarrassing.” He huffed, running his hand through his tousled hair. You waited for him to say more, but he just sat next to you attempting to catch his breath.

You cleared your throat, ready to jump into what you had heard lately. Umbridge had implemented new rules across the school, and it was harder and harder for you and Draco to meet. Even though Draco was a part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he typically saw the rules didn’t apply to him.

“They’ve started a club.” You whispered. Draco's eyebrows furrowed-

“A club? What, his three friends weren’t enough to soak up his emotional negligence as a child?” Draco snorted.

You just rolled your eyes. He didn’t understand but you didn’t understand the implications of the club either.

”No its like. A fighting club? A dueling club? I heard the sign up sheet had a curse on it, if you spoke about the club you’d get boils all over your face.” You added. His eyebrows relaxed as he took in your information.

“A dueling club? There’s not a place in the castle where they could do that secretly.” Draco chuffed. He believed you, but a part of him didn’t believe that they’d be able to get away with something under Umbridge's rule.

“That’s all I know.” You shrugged your shoulders. Draco sighed, but nodded his head satisfied with what you gave him. You couldn’t help but notice the new badge placed on his robes. You were about to compliment it before he pulled out his potions book, breaking you from your daze.

”Snape let us know that the O.W.L’s will have a practical and written examination but only of specific potions. You only need to know how to prepare and successfully write down the Draught of Peace, Strengthening solution, the invigor-“ Draco’s instructions were cut short, stopping to listen to the noise outside the door. He outstretched his hand to stop your writing, your hands vigorously attempting to write down everything he was saying. You paused with him leaning your body closer to the door. From down the hall, the voices of Blaise and Crabbe echoed. While he focused on the sounds in the hall, all you could think about was his hand resting softly on yours.

“Oy! Draco!” Crabbe started.

“Emergency meeting in 10!” Blaise finished.

Draco sighed looking at you almost apologetically, but his body language stayed firm. He took his hand back, letting it guide off your knuckles softly before collecting his things. He closed the textbook and shoved it in his bag.

“Meet me later in the library after curfew. Take the left stairway near the gargoyle statue and keep right. I'll wait for you.” Draco mumbled leaving you in the broom closet surrounded by silence. He came and went faster than you anticipated but that typically was how your meetings were arranged. Though this time was different, you were never invited to meet him again, nonetheless after curfew.

You tried your best not to imagine anything romantic, your mind wandering to a private meeting late at night with the boy. Part of you hated how you fell for him like the rest of the school girls. He was a brat, no good, but charming, beautiful, and suave. His demeanor in your little meetings felt different than when you saw him with his friends. He didn’t treat you the same, actually he didn’t really act like you existed outside of your meetings. But something festers within you, dumb hope perhaps.

You waited in your dorm, watching the clock on the wall tick meticulously. The other girls in your room were already fast asleep, all exhausted by the application of O.W.L’s and the combination of Umbridge's unfair laws. You took another look around before slowly unwrapping yourself from your bed, tiptoeing out of the room. It was just past 11:45, not too late into the night. You wrapped yourself in your sweatshirt and walked out the common room in just your socks. You thought the soft pads of your feet were a quieter way to get down the stone hallways.

Like Draco insisted, you walked around the castle finding the gargoyle and the left stairwell. You hadn’t heard or bumped into a single professor or heaven forbid Filch and his damn cat. The stairwell forked and you kept left. Your heart raced as you got closer to the library. He said he’d meet you but you didn’t know where. It wasn't until you turned the stairs again when your arm was tugged back and handed over your mouth.

Eyes wide, a voice whispered into your ear.

“Shh, It’s just me. Follow and don't make a noise. Okay?” Draco's voice was just barely audible. You nodded, his hand slowly moving away from your mouth. He walked ahead of you in silence to the top of the stairwell. You held your own hand against your cheeks, feeling the rush of blood turn you a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked in front of you, his green plaid bottoms and black short sleeve shirt suited him well. It was as if he was wearing a separate Slytherin uniform, kept clean and pressed. His hair was damp, noting that he took night showers. You wished you could turn off your brain, he was just using you for information. That was it.

You got to an empty hallway, Draco opening a broom closet just near the library, ushering you in. You got inside, surprised by how much smaller it was to the one you typically shared downstairs. You waited for a moment as he joined you, lifting his arm up to pull a string, dull yellow light now cascading over you both.

You both stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Both of you weren’t exactly sure that the other would show up, the meeting feeling almost forbidden.

Draco cleared his throat. Unable to find his voice. He was incredibly close to you, your eyes looking up to him through your lashes. After a moment he looked up and around, trying not to stare. You stood there, breathing in his cologne, unable to think about anything else. You didn’t know whether to start speaking or wait to be spoken to. The silence was deafening.

“I just wanted to, let you know more about the potions exam.” Draco finally spoke, his voice raspy and slightly shaken. His hands were firmly to his sides, the sinking feeling of how close you two really were. He thought about asking if you wanted to find another closet, but he liked how you looked, looking up at him through your lashes. Blood rushed throughout his body, the room now getting warmer with both of you occupying such little space.

“That would be nice.” You spoke softly. All you could do was smile, adjusting your shirt slightly. You tried to look down to adjust your clothes further, out of anxiety mostly, but your forehead hit his chest, bumping into him. Your hand flung up to your mouth astonished and embarrassed. He just laughed, his arm moving and holding you up.

“I’m terribly sorry.” You whispered, trying to stand back as far as you can, though it didn’t make much of a difference. He now stood, his back to the door, his hands still on your shoulder. Both of you looked into each other's eyes for another second before the grip on your body pulled you every so slightly back into him. Draco leaned down, meeting you just before your lips met, hesitating before softly planting a kiss.

His hands slid up your shoulders, holding your neck as he kissed you again now, deeper. Your hands at your sides, almost afraid to reach out and touch him. You melted into his hands, your neck leaning to the side to let him get deeper. His hands moved from your neck to your arms, guiding them to his torso.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingers raking up and down his back. Draco started kissing you harder, his tongue flicking around your lips begging for more. You opened wider, both of your tongues meeting each other, moving around each other's mouths in quick succession. You could feel the room heat up, the sounds of your mouths enveloping all of your senses. Draco felt focused, curious about how far you’d let him. He craved your touch, the countless private meetings in broom closets, his mind constantly thinking of what he would do if you were really alone. How you were his pretty little detective, a spy on the inside.

His hand traveled to your knee, pulling it up around his torso as he leaned you back. You moaned into the kiss, taken away slightly by his movements. His hips met yours, the feeling of his growing member beneath his bottoms bumping slightly into your core as he kissed you. You ran your hands through his hair, the feeling of the cold damp strands bringing you some relief.

Draco began to lean his hips further into yours, his movements becoming more rhythmic with every passing movement. You were aching for his touch, the slight friction of your pants and his only partially alleviating your needs. You let your hands travel down his torso, breaking the kiss, palming him lightly. Draco's head dropped to his chest, his eyes fixated on your hands. You bit your lip, impressed by your confidence.

“Fuck darling.” His hands were still cupping your face lightly, holding your head as he enjoyed your touch. Soon your hands slipped under his waistband, tugging them lightly. He smiled, pulling you back into a kiss. His hands removed yours from his waistband and up above your head.

He trailed kisses from your arms to your neck, biting ever so slightly behind your ear. It took everything in him not to leave bruises, but he wanted to keep you his secret more than anything. His hands let go of yours, your arms now resting on your head. He lifted your shirt, kissing down your torso towards your waistline. He licked seductively at your navel, his hands slowly inching your pants down, your underwear still on.

Your breath hitched, the feeling of his hands rubbing down your legs, kissing and sucking your skin. He urged your foot to rest on his shoulder, his smile as he maneuvered himself closer in between your legs. You closed your eyes, your arm covering any light from coming through. He kissed your clit through the material, his thumb rubbing against the wet spot forming just below. He just smirked, rubbing soft circles watching your body react to his touch. He kept removing his hands, waiting for you to moan in protest, loving how you begged for him to continue. He did it one more time, waiting to hear your voice.

“Draco please.” You whispered, your knees shaking slightly in anticipation. He could feel his core seize hearing your voice say his name. So breathless, so low. His fingers moved your underwear to the side, his tongue immediately shoved down your cunt. The savory taste made Draco go crazy, his head bobbed slowly, using his hands to care for your clit as he focused on your hole.

He felt monstrous. He could be down there forever, enjoying every last drop of you. The way your leg pushed against his shoulder, the way you arched your back against the wall, clawing your hands in his hair. He was in heaven, and he wanted to make you feel good.

He moved his fingers off your clit, replacing it with his mouth, lapping and sucking lightly. His fingers teasing your hole, entering only slightly watching you get closer to your climax. Your body twitching, your knees slowly getting closer to the sides of his head. He let you move your legs, hips buckling as he sped up, the rush of euphoria overcoming you.

Draco stayed under you, watching you catch your breath. Your breasts now exposed, your hands pulling at your shirt in any attempt to release tension. Draco's hands moved to your hips, pulling himself up lightly. He moved your hands from your blushing face, kissing you deeply. The rush of your climax brought you back to reality, you two were in the broom closet on the top floor, making out … and doing much more. You couldn't believe it.

Your hands traveled back to his waistband, this time more demanding. You turned away from the kiss, moving to his jawline and around his neck. You continued to palm him through his pants, the feeling of his cock much larger than before. Your hands rubbed methodically through the paternal until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lowering to your knees, you shimmied his pants down, your mouth filling with saliva as the seconds passed. You slightly scratched down his hips as you took off his underwear, the feeling making Draco’s head snap back in pleasure. His cock fully erect in front of you, almost intimidating in size. You took a deep breath placing your hands close to the shaft, kissing lightly at his tip.

You swirled your tongue around, savoring the salty precum before you took as much as you could in your mouth. Using your hands, you slowly started moving your head in motion, the sounds of Draco whimpering only making you go deeper.

His hands ran through your hand, grabbing all of it in his hand forcing you to take him deeper. You gagged, the vibrations making Draco’s hips twitch. The combination of his hands and his hips simultaneously forcing his cock down your throat with every thrust. The saliva was now dripping down your chin, all over your hands. You reached up to his hands on your head, urging him to push you further.

”Are you sure?” He asked, his voice breathless. You just nodded, your head still bobbing with his assistance. He soon used his hands to hold you in place, his hips pushing his cock into your mouth, face fucking you. The feeling was out of this world, you focused your cheeks and breath in between his movements. Your eyes welled with tears but the moment made you rush. Your hands ran down in between your legs, quickly rubbing your clit sloppily as Draco used your mouth.

Draco's moans were suppressed, only the sounds of you gagging making him slip up, moaning your name into the air. He thrusted his hips one last time, his thighs shaking as he shot a warm liquid down your throat. Your jaw sore and tongue chaffed from the event. He leaned back taking his cock out of your mouth allowing you to fully breath in and out, juices spilling over your mouth. You stayed on the floor catching your breath. Draco turned noticing paper towels just to his left, wiping his tip before pulling his pants up. Kneeling down to you, he lovingly wiped your face, taking the time to make sure he got everything off. Your face was flustered, eyes closed just enjoying the peace.

Draco stared at you, your face red, the small smile on your face. He was absolutely smitten by you. He hated that he’d credit Potter to you two meeting, but he would never have it any other way.

𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

mean! Isagi Yoichi smut, AFAB reader, slight choking, hair pulling, rough sex, degredation!

mmmmm i have such bad mean isagi yoichi brainrot rn i can't even!

normally, isagi is so nice to you. he gives you presents, compliments, kisses, and just about everything you could ever possibly ask for, and you love it! he makes you feel like the most perfect person in the whole world, and you couldn't be happier.

but then you go to his games, and the man you see in the jersey is completely different. he's ruthless, hurling insults at the other players left and right. his eyes have a spark in them that ignites something in you as well. to make everything even more confusing, once the two of you reunite after the game, he's completely fine!

a little while later, the two of you are in your apartment, his head on your lap and you playing with his hair. The TV is showing reruns of the match, and you can't help but say, "I've never seen you that mean before."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," he says a bit bashfully, "I can get a little mean, I guess . . . but not to you though."

" . . . shame. I thought it was kinda hot."

before you know it, your on the two of your's bed, getting pounded into from behind. Isagi has his hand on the back of your head, his hands fisted in your hair. you're drooling into your pillow, muffled moans pouring from your mouth.

"Is this what you wanted, hm?" he growls, his hips snapping into your ass. he revels in the way the flesh bounces and he tosses his head back when you clench particularly tightly around his shaft. A low sound emanates in his chest and he chuckles darkly. "Ohhhh~ you fucking slut. You needed this didn't you?"

"yes 'ichi!" he pulls on your hair, tugging your head up from the pillow. He lowers his whole body against yours, his chest flush against your back. "haaahh~ ahhh~ 'ichi . . . i love it . . . ah- harder!"

"ohhh, my fucking girl," he complies and nibbles at your neck. "you're so dirty, coming to all my games, hearing me shit talk my opponents, and all you could think of was me talking to you like that? you wanna be treated like my little slut?"

You nod, and he releases your hair. That same arm snakes around your neck and puts you in a chokehold. "ahhhh- yoichi! I . . . I . . ."

"i know, i know," he coos, "oh, are you gonna come for me baby?"

"yes!" you gasp.

he pushes himself up and twines his fingers again in your hair. He tilts your head back, staring down at your blown out eyes, open mouth, and flushed face. he leans down to kiss your forehead, pausing his ministrations for a brief moment, before straightening to his full height again and continuing to thrust into you.

the sight that meets your eyes now is tantalizing.

isagi is covered in sweat, his face glowing from the sheen of it. his deep blue eyes hold a firey passion in them, his heady gaze ready to light you on fire at any moment. but the cherry on top of it all is the shit eating grin on his face. it pulls his mouth to the right in a smirk and his teeth are bared as he watches your debauched expression. the sight alone is enough to choke a whimper from you.

"c'mon babygirl," he coos, his thumb brushing your chin. "lemme see it. lemme see you come after finally getting what you've been dreaming of."

"'ichi!"

"Fuck!" he roars, feeling your juices soak him. he ruts his hips into you a few more times, trying to drain everything out of you. "That's it! just like that!"

after a few more pumps, he finally finds his release as well, your name escaping his mouth if a roar.

he collapses again against your back, nuzzling into your shoulder blades. he whispers soft words against your skin, but it's mostly incoherent.

finally, once you've regained your sanity, you turn to him. "You can get really mean, huh?" you tease.

He chuckles and shakes his head, a few drops of sweat falling onto you. "Yeah, was it too much?"

You smile and shake your head. You kiss his cheek and nuzzle into his face. "No, it was perfect."

Draco Malfoy [Rottenherbs masterlist ₊⊹]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ [HP masterlist] ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A Promise Worth Keeping (꩜ At the final quidditch match of the season, you take a serious blow enshrining a win for Slytherin; but a certain blonde haired seeker makes sure to check on you in the infirmary // 1.7k // Fluff! Mention of Injury and blood) Seating Arrangement (pt.2) (𖦹 Late to potions and the only seat left was next to Malfoy. Were you able to keep up with the Slytherin prince or will this ruin any chances of a good first impression? // 1.2k ) Overprotective ( ꩜ toxic! Draco getting jealous over his Ravenclaw! reader girlfriend // 595 // Possessiveness, Public altercation) Trouble In The Library (𖦹 You liked helping your friends with their class work, but Draco saw it differently // 1.3k // Fluff, Slight Angst, Crying) Swapping Secrets and Spit (NSFW) (꩜ You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? // 2.9k // Sexual Content, Cock Teasing, Oral stimulation (f/m), Face Fucking) “I will get him to smile again” (pt.2) (𖦹 Draco isn’t looking too good. He’s been withdrawn for a while with his fight and continuous secrets he will have to keep in the upcoming year. You make it your personal mission to bring back his smile// 824 // Pining, flirting) The Muggle Way (꩜ muggleborn!fem!reader and Draco moving in together in their established relationship // 658 // Fluff ) Rest ( 𖦹 Sleepy Draco falling asleep on reader // 685 // Fluff, sweet intimacy) The Hound (꩜ fem!reader heading to bed after a shower, and she sees Draco on their bed moving his Patronus around the room // 1k // fluff) Christmas with Muggles (𖦹 Draco being girlfriend!reader’s date to her work’s Christmas party that is full of muggles // 2k // Muggle! adult life, Fluff) NYE Headcanon (꩜ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) A Couple Firsts (𖦹 “You just need a strong lead” // 1.5k // Yule Ball!) Secret Relationship! HC (꩜ Headcanons having a secret relationship with Draco) Secrets of Prefects (𖦹 You and Draco share a secret, passionate relationship while pretending to hate each other in public. As your connection deepens, you both struggle with the tension between your forbidden desire the consequences of keeping your affair hidden // 2.3k // Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Secret Affair, Making out, Pining) Clouded Sunrays (꩜ draco x hufflepuff!reader // grumpy x sunshine // 2k Dreamweaver (𖦹 Draco Malfoy begins dreaming of a girl he’s never seen before. At first, it’s fleeting. Then it becomes constant. He’s never spoken to her in real life—or seen her for that matter — he’s sure of it. So why does she feel more real than anything else? // 3.2k // Time Split, Slowburn, Angst)

Me looking for fan fictions but instead I get flashed by sex bot ads under the same tag

SLYTHERIN // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

REGULUS BLACK

le lendemain matin

the salt and the sea

forever

the better of two bad options

a pen

the door

the black heir

distraction

THEODORE NOTT

love is sour grapes

by netws & nott

something stronger

like snow on the beach

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

TOM RIDDLE

desiderium

love again

from the glue

salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink

midmorning

effects of amortentia

DRACO MALFOY

our little secret

honeydukes

firsts

how could i ever forget?

makeup

draco malfoy with shy!male!reader headcanons

cherry juice

MATTHEO RIDDLE

the cat

puppy eyes

the game

rainy nights m.r

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

like nobody else

love love love

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

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

You never did go pro.

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

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

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

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

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

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

You see it differently.

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

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

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

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

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

After all, you never did go pro.

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

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

It was the beginning of the end, then.

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

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

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

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

Endeavor's wing. 

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

Very different.

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

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

"Oh, ho, no way!"

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

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

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

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

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

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

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

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

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

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

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

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

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

For a second, you're seventeen again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

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

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

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

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

He hangs back. 

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

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

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

And he deserves to be happy.

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

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

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

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

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

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

You make yourself available.

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

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

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

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

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

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

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

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

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

Shoto winces.

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

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

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

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

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

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

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

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

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

"She wants me to call her after—"

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

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

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

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

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

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

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

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

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

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

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

Fuyumi's contribution. 

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

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

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

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

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

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

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

For a second, you're seventeen again.

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

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

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

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

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

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

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

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

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

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

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

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

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

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

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

...Right?

Green light.

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

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

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

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

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

What if you don't want to kiss him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not being weird—"

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

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

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

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

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

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

And then you whimper. 

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

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

He needs to slow down.

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

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you serious?"

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

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

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

"Are you free this weekend?"

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

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

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

Shoto scoffs. 

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

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

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

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

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

Serendipity Series

Summary: (AU) In every lifetime, Sung Jinwoo will make sure to leave a mark on your soul. To always accompany you as your devoted husband to his lovely and cute wife, no matter what...

Watching from a distance, Sung Jinwoo slowly savoured the taste of the wine in his glass, his fingers clenching the fragile stem. He restrained his anger as he witnessed your betrothed humiliate you and revoke your engagement for his mistress. Painting you as a villain to everyone as that foolish of a man flaunts his infidelity called 'love'.

Sung Jinwoo couldn't help but sneer at them and find fate laughable.

He has always been determined to have you as his wife, no matter what. However, fate has a twisted sense of humour. It seems, that in order, for him to have you, you must first endure humiliation and a broken engagement.

If fate is going to play its hand, then don't blame him if he turns the situation to his advantage and claims you as his own. And as for those who have wronged you, they will face the consequences of his wrath.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except for my characters and plot.

Warning/Genre: Romance, AU, drama, broken engagement, Yandere (Sorry for the miss grammar)

Chapter 1 - Stupidity

In a banquet hosted by the royal family in the palace, your betrothed, the crown prince hugs his first love protectively in his arms and condemns you without hesitation in front of all the nobles in the kingdom.

A smug smirk on his lips as he looked down on you while you, on the other hand, glared up at him.

The anger that has built over the years was on the verge of breaking as your supposed fiance embarrassed not only you but your family with the breakdown of your engagement.

Your name is Eliana Anderson. You are the eldest child of the Anderson household and the prestigious and precious daughter of the Primes Minister Anderson of your kingdom.

Ever since you came of age, you have been betrothed to the crown prince by the king without your father's approval.

You're the only daughter in your family and your father has always doted on you so of course the matters of your betrothal have been a sensitive and meticulous topic to your father. Not wanting to give his precious daughter to some boorish, unruly bastards.

And so receiving a marriage decree from the king, accompanied by a threat to your family, made your father furious beyond belief that you and your mother worried he might faint from anger.

Your father protested with all his might to deny this engagement, knowing how corrupt the current royal family is and how uncontrolled and malicious the current crown prince is but to no avail; the king ignored him.

In the end, you didn't have a choice but to follow, not wanting your family to end up in a difficult situation by opposing the king.

The crown prince does share the same sentiment on not wanting this engagement; however, that didn't stop him from showing his disgust at you. In fact, he seemed to revel in the opportunity to humiliate you whenever the chance arose.

The torment he has shown you since the first day of your engagement has never ceased, and continues even to this day.

And now he's hellbent on not only humiliating you but also destroying and smearing your family's reputation through the mud.

Letting out a breath, you calmed yourself, knowing that acting hysterical wouldn't benefit you nor save your family from the predicament this prince has thrown at you.

However, the urge to slap this idiot prince was so dangerously tempting that you had to close your eyes, and instead, a cold smile appeared on your lips and looked at your 'fiance'.

"If I may ask Your Highness, what crime have I committed that warrants you painting me as a malicious villain in front of everyone?" You coldly asked, your smile darkening as your hand clenched tighter on the fan you were holding.

Suddenly, a coquettish voice interrupted, "Lady Eliana, please stop lying and admit to your sins. Please don't make this harder than it is."

It was the woman whom your fiance had 'fallen' for. A woman who has brown shoulder-length hair, dopey downturned eyes and dressed in a white gown that accentuated her slim figure.

She has that pure, innocent beauty that always seems to attract men who want to unconsciously protect her.

It was the crown prince's 'first love', Amy Wilson, the illegitimate daughter of Baron Wilson, who was currently nestled in your fiance's arms.

Cowering and trembling as tears gathered in her eyes, looking like a small doe in front of everyone as she tried to confront you, earning her sympathy and pitying looks especially the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies.

You, however, were given a dark and condemning look from them.

You couldn't help but spit in disgust in your heart as you coldly looked at her.

She's a woman completely opposite of you, who has sharp and cold eyes, and whenever you look at the crown prince, a lingering disgust shows in your eyes.

Your once slender and petite frame is now tall and lean, the result of the training you have suddenly undergone to learn self-defence as you were pushed as the crown princess.

Truly a complete opposite from your past self. No more the naivety and joy in your once soft features.

Hearing her words, you sneered.

"As far as I know Lady Tr- Lady Wilson, I have only given you fair warnings on your behaviour and to maintain your distance as Your Highness is my betrothed. As for the accusations of harming you, unfortunately, I do not know of them nor have I done them."

You said as you gave them a cold smile behind your fan, patting yourself for catching yourself from calling that woman 'trash'.

That right, you have labelled that woman 'Trash' the moment she seduced the crown prince and tried to harm you.

Why, you ask?

It's not because you love that rotten bastard but because, in your eyes, the crown prince is a rotten garbage. And since there is a rotten garbage, it only makes sense that it has to be thrown in the trash and that trash is none other than Amy Wilson.

Hiding behind the crown prince's arms, that trash gave you a sly look.

You couldn't help but feel a disgusting chill run down your spine as an unsettling feeling settled in your stomach.

As far as you know, your actions thus far have been appropriate as a crown princess. Neither have you crossed the line of letting your feelings interfere nor have you remained ignorant of the situation to let it escalate.

You didn't hurt this woman in any form, only giving her a fair warning and if you did, you have your servants to witness it. As for the 'evidence' they have presented earlier, if experts, the kings and higher people in ranks were to investigate it, they would know it was nothing but fraud.

It's nothing but false evidence made by both the crown prince and his stupid group of cronies who were supposedly the next heirs to some of the most influential families in your kingdom and yet have been seduced so easily under such a contemptuous woman.

Regardless, they were nothing but brats who only rode their family's coattails and were nothing but a nuisance, using their power to abuse those who were weak and under them.

Thinking so, you curse them again in your heart and tried to calm your nerves as cold sweat still continues to run down your back.

"We have given and presented undisputable evidence, Eliana. Stop your nonsense and admit to it." The crown prince spoke with impatience in his voice, shaking his head as if he were speaking to a child.

Your eyebrow twitched hearing him calling you by your name so directly with such audacity.

If it were any other situation, you would have refuted him without reserve however since you were in such a situation, you can't do so recklessly or else your entire family would be dragged further than it already is.

Suddenly, the crown prince caught your eyes and gave a malicious smirk before declaring.

"Since your actions show just how much of an unreasonable and vile you are. How could I accept you as the crown princess and be the future mother of the kingdom! Hence, as of today, Eliana Anderson, you are stripped of your title as the crown princess and from now on Lady Amy Wilson will be the crown princess. Guards! Arrest her and throw her into prison for the crime of harming the crown princess."

You stared, speechless, at the crown prince at such absurdity.

That is when the unsettling feeling you have since you entered this ball completely grasps your whole being as if a slap hit you on the face. A whisper in the back of your mind becomes louder and louder as you feel something within you is on the verge of breaking.

You have always known that the crown prince was a good-for-nothing bastard. A spoiled bastard who only does whatever he pleases but it wasn't to the point of complete idiocy especially when it comes to you as your betrothal was one of the stepping stones on why he became the crown prince however it seems you have overestimated him.

Feeling your arms being restrained by the knights, you struggled. Your control over your emotions slowly slips as your frustrations and anger show.

You tried to regulate your breathing as you looked at the bastard before you, smiling mockingly as you gradually cracked under him.

He turns his head to look at your father who is now being restrained by the knights also when he tried to charge in your defence. A sickening smile on his lips as he taunted your father.

"Ah, Duke Anderson, unfortunately, you'll have to step down from your position as well since the evidence of your embezzlement and illegal actions have been presented to the king. The king has also decided that Marquis Henlyn will be replacing you as the Prime Minister."

Hearing this you curse the crown prince at such an abrupt accusation.

Your father with embezzlement?! Illegal actions?! being replace?!

Such stupidity!

Your father has been nothing but upright and loyal to the kingdom and its people. If it wasn't for him, this kingdom would have long fallen because of its corrupt royal family!

And now he's being falsely accused!? And on top of it, your father is being replaced by Marquis Henlyn who has been rumoured to have smuggled weapons and slavery between your kingdom and the other countries!

Just what kind of parasite is in that bastard's head to have allowed this especially the king!

You gritted your teeth as you yelled, "Your Highness, do you even realize what you're doing?! If you allow this, not only you and the imperial family will be implicated but the kingdom and its people as well! You say my father has done illegal doings and yet haven't you heard that Marquis Henlyn has smuggled not only weapons but has done illegal trading of slavery of our people! My father has been nothing but loyal and honest! Evidence?! It is nothing but a farce! "

Surely even this prince knows how impossible it was to replace your father as his hard work is more evident than this so-called ' evidence'.

Your father's power and authority are the sole reason he's the current crown prince. Removing you and your father would be a foolish move even the king knows this thus the reason he has given that marriage decree without your family's permission and yet why this?!

However, it seems not only have you overestimated the prince but that of the king as well as the prince laughed at you and leaned down as he whispered.

"Do you really think my father cares about your family now that your father has crossed his line? Not only has your father obstructed the royal family again and again, but this time, my father has had enough and since I have gained your father's authority and power, I no longer have any need of your family and my father wholeheartedly agreed to it."

Realization dawned on you as your eyes widened at the truth. A small yet audible sound of snapping resounded in you.

Suddenly a loud heartbroken cry erupted in your throat as you struggled fiercely, no longer caring for anything or your appearance.

Annoyed by your resistance, one of the knights kicks the back of your knees, resulting in you slamming your kneecap onto the floor.

Pain shot through your body. Your eyes reddened and tears welled up, not only from the pain but your control over your bottled emotions have now dissipated.

Gone! Everything you have worked hard for is now gone!

You shook your head and bit your lips until it bleed.

No, this can't be happening!

Even if you hated the crown prince, your position as the crown princess was the only thing that you couldn't let go of.

After all, because of the marriage decree these unscrupulous, unreasonable people have shoved down your throat, you have no choice but to let go of him. Someone so important in your life was exchanged for something you didn't want.

Feeling your cheeks wet, you realize that your tears have finally fallen.

Regret fills you to the point of suffocation as your mind unconsciously remembers the young boy you adored the moment you met him.

How you wish to have held his hand longer...

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. A relative of mine has passed away and it has been stressful and with work thrown in. It had been chaotic instead which made it harder for me to write and edit.

Though I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the Serendipity Series! If it's not too much, please comment on your thoughts. Thank you!

{All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author}

Welcome to my blog

Characters I write for:

MHA: Hawks, Shinsou, Aizawa, Dabi

Castlevania: Alucard

JJK: Gojo, Nanami, Geto

Masterlist

Hawks (Keigo Takami)

Nakidori- Hawks x FemOC fanfic on AO3 (fluff with eventual smut)

A bird that can't sing {part 2}- Hawks x femreader mini series(fluff)

Who is that? {part 1} - Hawks x femreader mini series (fluff)

See you later, Mr. President- hawks x reader mini series (smut) Part 1

See you later, Mr. President- (smut) Part 2

See You Later, Mr. President- (Part3) (sexual tension)

See you later, Mr. President- Part 4 (slight smut, adult themes)

See you later, Mr. President- Part 5 (smut, adult themes) 🆕

ALUCARD (Adrian Tepes)

I’ll Take you- Alucard x (Y/N) Reader (Part 1) (fluff and sexual tension)

I’ll Take You (Part 2) (smut)

I’ll Take You (part 3) (fluff)

Nanami Kento

Trouble - Nanami x Y/N Reader (Part 1) (fluff/sexual tension)

Trouble- (Part 2) (smut)

Gojo Satoru

Speechless (Part 1) - Nerdjo x Y/N Reader (fluff/ sexual tension)

Speechless (Part 2) (smut)

In the Middle (Part 1) GeGo x Reader (fluff, sexual tension) 🆕

Shinsou Hitoshi (ALWAYS AGED UP)

Shinsou x FemReader! In a band (Fluff) 🆕

Geto Suguru

In the Middle (Part 1) GeGo x Reader (fluff, sexual tension) 🆕

I post mini series and fics regularly. Make sure to follow me to get updates <3

Four. Four soulmates. Oh Kamisama no! - Reader x ShiggyOverDabiHawks

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

💞Chapter 1 - Ignorance is Bliss

You always thought it would be nice to experience anime in real life when you were young, a child even. Then as you grew up, the thought faded. It was too childish and ridiculous. You'd think about that wish and inwardly cringe sooo hard. Who wouldn't want something unexpected to happened out of nowhere, or otherworldly?

Well, maybe not someone who doesn't like surprises.

You suppose that's fair.

Maybe a cute gag here and there, a chance to meet your soulmate or the person connected to your red string of fate.

It sounded nice.

Would save you the heartache, disappointment and skip the drama. Perhaps start you two off on the right track?

Sounded nice and pleasant.

You definitely didn't expect God above or whoever the hell was looking out for you to give you, one, two, three, no…. four possible soul mates! Characters from My Hero Academia to be precise! Three villains and a Hero, no less! Was this god playing a cruel joke on you or something?

Wait. Hold up, let's go back.

To twenty-four hours ago.

❤️❤️❤️

It was your day off and you decided to go to get some errands done. You woke up bright and early, showering, dressing in a cute red and black plaid skirt, white long sleeved sweater, black pantyhoes with rose designs on it and red heels. It was crisp, but not overly chilly or too hot as the fall weather starting to come, multi-colored leaves falling off the trees.

Hot apple cider, pumpkin pie and flavored treats and drinks were everywhere. Your favorite time of year! You couldn't be happier!

You thought your eyes were playing trick with you as you entered the coffee and donuts shop. You saw a familiar spiky black haired man with burnt, patchwork, stapled skin as he carried black coffee and strawberry donuts; he covered his face with his navy raincoat and a black duster mask.

Dabi? You blinked. Nah, it's a cosplayer. You smiled to yourself.

Decided to leave him be and enjoy his breakfast you walked past him.

Oblivious that the Villain's azure blue eyes were following you.

You ordered a warm apple cider with whipped cream and cinnamon coffee cake. It was your treat to yourself after a long week at work. You totally deserved it!

After paying, sitting down to eat and drink your sugary breakfast with a low hum on you lips to yourself and nearly stopping yourself from physically kicking your feet back and forth as you scrolled on your phone. Check messages, emails, socials and your check list as to not get to distracted.

You blink as you finished the last bite of your coffee cake. Were you being watched? You glance around and not noticing anything out of the ordinary, or anyone looking at you, but you still shivered and rubbed your arm, then sipped your drink. God, I hope it's not the caffeine jitters. You never had them, but you had a few friends who did.

Throwing away your trash, double checking for any messes or crumbs, you grabbed a wet wipe from you purse and quickly wiped down the table as you pocketed your phone. What can you say? Old habits died hard from being a waitress in your teens. Nodding with a self satisfied smile you left a tip in the tip jar for the staff and left.

🔥🔥🔥

Dabi sat in the far back of the coffee shop, savoring his breakfast. Periodically checking his phone, he still had no signal which irked him as he scowled underneath his mask. Every once in a while, he would watch you. You had this peaceful and sappy smile on your face. Dare he call it cute? Not that he was going to say it out loud. It was his turn to follow you this morning after birdbrain tailed you yesterday and figured out your routine with one of his annoying feathers.

It had been a week since they were somehow transported from their world and into this one. It was a pain in the ass for keep Shiggy and Overjerk from killing each other, if Hawks had intervened.

His leg bounce in annoyance as he remembered the stupid new worlds match making God's words, "If you all want to go home, then you must make your soul mate fall in love with you and choose one of you four. Simple!"

Great, there lives hung on the balance of some doll. Dabi supposed that you weren't displeasing. There's no way in hell you would accept him, handjob or Toucan bitch. But it wasn't like he wasn't going to lose the competition to the feathered winged chicken. Oh, the over confidant and bright smile the Japan's Number Three Hero and words entered his mind, "Don'tcha worry, fella's I'll win the girl in no time flat! Count on me! I'm Japan's most eligible bachelor after all."

The more Dabi thought about it. The more pissed off and heated he would get before he cooled his temper and reschooled his features, placing his mask of indifference back on. The flame users mood brightened as he finally had access to the shops wifi, he opened his messages and texted the others.

Blue: I'm in and the target's heading towards you germfreak.

Finishing the last of his strawberry donuts and black coffee, he stood, pocketed his phone and left towards his next destination. It was his turn to shake down some losers for cash or pickpocket, whichever he felt like. Didn't care. Unless he turned them into a pile of ash, but the beaked shithead nagged about them keeping a low profile. Jesus fucking Christ, he was worse than a mother hen, nag, nag, nag, bitch, bitch, bitch. He honestly didn't know who the fuck needed to get laid more, Overhoe or Crusty?

Dabi's phone buzzed, he took it out and opened the message, a smug smirk curling as he snickered.

Raven (Bird Bitch): Watch your tone blue flame. Don't getting into too much trouble.

Blue: Yah, yah, I got it. Thanks, mom.

He watched the line of dots appear as the overly huffy yakuza boss was furiously typing away and about to nag him, again.

Raven (Bird Bitch): Just complete your task and hurry back to the base. The meet-up is tomorrow and don't be late.

Dabi can already imagine the feathered Toucan glaring at his phone in his hand now. He's too easy.

Shoving his phone and his hand into his pocket again, he spotted an easy and clearly morning drunken target. Hello, money bags.

Dabi pulled his hood further up, covering his hair and made sure his mask was in place as he stalked towards the unsuspecting victim, his eyes brightening and excitement rushing through his veins.

----- End of Chapter 1 -----

Chapter 2: Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 3: The Matchmaking Goddess meddles

Chapter 4: New Game. Love Game, Start.

Chapter 5: Dance with Devils and a Red Winged Angel

Chapter 6: The Red String

Chapter 7: Fiction meets Reality

Chapter 8: Fives a crowd?

Tag list: @cherry-queens-blog @fanofflames @touyas-wife @redr0sewrites @slayfics @dabislittlemouse @doumadono @wtf-ask-baddie-overhaul @number-2-hero-hawks @meeludrawz @kyiratodoroki @m3gumibear @lucyblue101 @nakiich

I know, I know, I made it shorter than my usual fanfics, but don't worry my lovelies!

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

i hope you find something you like <3

My Hero Academia 

Jujutsu Kaisen 

Twisted Wonderland 

Blue Lock

Tokyo Revengers

Dr. Stone

Demon Slayer

Wind Breaker

Black Clover

One Piece

Gachiakuta

Sakamoto Days

Misc.

last updated 3/16/2025

all of my work is tagged #mimi’s notes or #mimi’s thirsts

lk i just posted smth else anonymous but could you make a isagi bday special pretty pls

like reader make a plan to go hang out as a date and when he gets home he’s surprised with a little party with him and his friends/family.

you have free rein with everything else lol

“𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢!”

a/n: i love my man

isagi barely had time to kick off his cleats before you practically tackled him at the door, arms wrapping around his waist as you beamed up at him. 

“happy birthday, birthday boy!” you cheered, rocking side to side while still latched onto him. 

he huffed a laugh, dropping his bag and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re way too excited for my birthday.” 

“of course i am!” you grinned, finally pulling back to let him breathe. “now, hurry up and shower. we have a date to go on!” 

“a date?” he blinked, tilting his head. “weren’t we just gonna have dinner at home?” 

“nope, i made a special plan for your special day.” you grinned mischievously, and he could already tell you were up to something. “now, go, go! i need you clean and smelling good.” 

he snorted but obeyed, letting you push him toward the bathroom while you busied yourself in the kitchen, making sure everything was ready. when he emerged, fresh and slightly damp from his shower, he was greeted by the sight of you holding up a neatly wrapped scarf. 

“what’s this?” he asked, suspicious. 

“a blindfold.” 

“i – what?” 

“trust the process, isagi yoichi.” 

with an exasperated sigh but a fond smile, he let you tie it over his eyes, and soon enough, you were leading him out the door. “this isn’t a murder plot, right?” he joked as you carefully guided him to your destination. “because rin told me once that you look like the type to commit a crime of passion.” 

“oh my gosh, what?” you cackled. “first of all, rude. second of all, no. but if i were, you’d never see it coming.” 

“that’s not comforting!” 

ignoring his protests, you finally reached your planned date spot: a cute little arcade, which, conveniently, was close enough to home for your surprise to work seamlessly. removing his blindfold, you gestured grandly to the flashing lights and game machines. 

“tadaaa! birthday boy gets to play whatever he wants!” 

his eyes widened with childlike excitement. “seriously?” 

“seriously.” you smirked, holding up a cup filled with tokens. “but fair warning, i’m gonna destroy you in every game.” 

“you’re talking big for someone who lost in air hockey last time.” 

“what are you talking about? that was rigged.”  

and just like that, the two of you dove into battle. from racing games to claw machines, to an absolutely ruthless dance battle where you may or may not have tripped over your own foot, the date was filled with laughter and competitiveness. isagi, of course, had to show off his accuracy skills in a shooting game, and you had to flex your button-mashing abilities in a classic fighting game. 

by the end of it, he was grinning so wide his cheeks probably hurt, pockets filled with tiny prizes he’d won (including a ridiculous keychain of a cat wearing sunglasses that you insisted was “his energy in an item”). 

“okay, that was actually the best,” he admitted as you both walked back home. “thank you.” 

“ah ah ah, not done yet.” you shot him another mischievous smile, quickening your pace. he furrowed his brows but followed, only to be met with a pitch-dark apartment when you stepped inside. 

“huh?” he muttered. “did we forget to –” 

“SURPRISE!!” 

the lights flicked on, revealing a small but lively gathering of his closest friends and family. bachira was the first to practically launch himself at isagi, clinging onto him like a koala. 

“happy birthday, isagiii! i missed you so much today, man. did she treat you well? did she pamper you? did she give you birthday kisses?” he looked right over at you, making you roll your eyes playfully. 

“get off me, bachira,” isagi laughed, though he didn’t push him away. 

“we got you a cake, yoichi,” his mother piped up from the side, smiling warmly. “but first, you should eat real food before you fill up on sugar.” 

“yeah, yeah,” rin muttered, arms crossed. “and don’t expect me to sing. i was forced to be here.” 

“you love me, rin,” isagi teased, to which rin merely scoffed and looked away. 

“you guys took your time, huh?” nagi yawned from the couch. 

reo smacked his arm. “don’t fall asleep yet.” 

“yeah, we gotta get to the gifts!” bachira added excitedly, finally detaching himself from isagi. “we all got you something super cool.” 

“oh?” isagi glanced at you curiously. “did you plan all this?” 

“maybe,” you said with a smug smile. “but it wasn’t just me. everyone helped.” 

his heart swelled at the thought. he never expected anything grand for his birthday, just spending time with you would have been more than enough. but this? this was perfect. 

as the night went on, filled with food, laughter, and some absolutely terrible karaoke courtesy of sendou and shidou, isagi found himself staring at you from across the room, feeling a warmth he couldn’t quite put into words. 

when the cake was brought out and everyone sang (yes, even rin, begrudgingly), he blew out his candles, making a silent wish. 

later, when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch after everyone had left, he murmured, “this was the best birthday i’ve ever had.” 

“really?” you poked his cheek. “better than last year when i let you win in mario kart?” 

“you didn’t let me win.” 

“… okay, maybe not.” 

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “thank you, seriously.” 

“anything for my birthday boy.” you grinned. “same time next year?” 

“definitely.”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

ykw…. this is probably a funny joke 💔 haha very funny for april fools FIX IT.

(pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls 🙏🏾🙇🏽‍♀️🙇🏽‍♀️)

breaths are shortening, vision is blurring, throat is closing, stomach is aching what the FUCK do you mean NAGI IS ELIMINATED💔💔💔

cw: part 2 of the romantic getaway series. exes to lovers. lots of bkdk banter.

It’s 8:30 am on the dot when Izuku hears the treads of Katsuki’s car make it to the front of his apartment building and Izuku is thankful he decided to forgo the coffee he considered buying before his friend arrived. Before Izuku can get to the door, Katsuki has rolled the window down and is looking at him with a look of mild annoyance as he sees the suitcase, overstuffed to bursting, propped up next to his friend.

“There better not be a single figurine in there.”

Izuku, in relatively good humor considering the fact that he barely slept the night before, chuckles as he approaches the rising back of Katsuki’s car, dropping his suitcase, nearly twice the size as Katsuki’s, with a thud in the trunk.

“Only the letters from your most devoted haters for some light reading.”

If Katsuki is annoyed by it, Izuku will never find out because by the time he closes the trunk and comes back over to the passenger side of the car, he realizes that Katsuki is staring at his shoes.

He sighs as he gets in.

“Mirio’s team gave these to me for free. I’m not sending any subliminal messages, Kacchan.”

Katsuki won’t say anything else about the fact that his friend is wearing his girlfriend’s ex’s line of sneakers and it bothers him, because that would be immature so rather he presses the push to start button of the car and starts their course to the airport without further ado.

Izuku watches his apartment, which feels less like home these days and more like a place to lay his head, fade in the distance. There’s something wistful about it. He’s literally only leaving for a week, Saturday to Saturday, but he gets the impression that he won’t come back to it the same way he left it. 

Turning back to the road, he lets out another sigh. Katsuki has moved on from whatever train of thought had assailed him and now grips the steering wheel less tightly.

“Okay, here’s what I need you to understand.”

Izuku braces himself, slumping in his seat as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sky blue sweatshirt, perhaps a little too conspicuous for an up and coming hero, but one of his favorite colors since his adolescence.

“Yes?” Izuku says, knowing that if he doesn’t respond out loud to show he’s giving him his full attention, Katsuki will wait before speaking, then get angrier the longer he waits.

Katsuki readjusts in his seat and cracks his neck on both sides, then throws a sideways glance at Izuku.

“You and that girl of yours are not doing anything to fuck up this vacation, you hear me?”

“Here we go,” Izuku mutters under his breath, but Katsuki is still doing precisely that, going.

“Over the course of this trip, I have two primary goals-” he honks at a car that cuts him off abruptly, but decides to leave it at that because he simply has bigger fish to fry, and that’s his childhood friend in the car beside him who already looks like he’s sulking.

“I am going to FUCK” - the emphasis on it almost has Izuku side-eyeing him - “and I am going to enjoy myself, which means there will be no arguing and there will be no crying.”

“Why are you assuming I would-” Izuku starts but Katsuki’s red glare reminds him that he’s wasting his time.

“I don’t want either of the two of you doing any type of shit that’s gonna make us leave early.  You hear me? Not at the airport, not on the plane, not at the hotel, not at any buffet line, not at the bars, not on the hiking trails, not ANYWHERE, okay?”

Izuku lets out a sigh.

“I’m serious. If she says ‘don’t look at me’, don’t fucking look at her.”

“Are you really policing where my eyes go, Kacchan?”

“Do NOT.”

Katsuki makes a sharp but precise turn and Izuku considers if he should put in his earphones to ignore him and risk a real fight. His friend seems to have gotten the coffee that Izuku skipped and in some ways he envies his passion, but this is annoying he has to admit.

He’s a grown man. He can behave in public and you’re just as cordial, for the most part. It will be fine.

But something mischievous in Izuku’s chest flares up every once in a while when Katsuki is giving him one of his lectures and it comes up now.

“Okay, so what happens if you and ___ fight then?” 

Katsuki’s neck snaps towards him at the speed of light.

“Hah!?”

“Look at the road.” Izuku retorts calmly.

“I will literally turn this car around and kill us both, don’t piss me off.” Katsuki hisses.

“I mean, neither of us will die, but okay. You’ll literally just raise your insurance.”

Izuku’s cool voice hangs in the air as Katsuki realizes he’s right. He doesn’t say another word aside from a noncommittal grumble and there’s peace finally, enough so that Izuku can shut his eyes and think of how best to face you, for the rest of the short ride.

—

“This feels a little more prestigious than I was anticipating,” you whisper to your friend, as you follow an escort to the airport lounge that just precedes the gate to your plane. From your vantage point, especially once the two of you are seated in what feels like an entire secret terminal separate from the remainder of the international airport, you can see that the plane itself is a relatively small carrier, but is painted far too extravagantly, as though an advertisement for Romance in and of itself.

Your friend is slightly distracted as you speak to her, and you can tell that she’s corresponding with Katsuki to clarify his whereabouts. You look at your own phone - notifications from many social media apps and a few text messages from your parents and siblings and overseas friends that were sent at odd hours, wishing you a good trip, emails from work preparing for your official return. You’re not exactly sure what you are waiting for, and when the thought occurs to you that it might be a text message from Izuku, you physically shake the thought out of your head and shove your phone in the pocket.

As soon as you put it away however, it buzzes, and you realize you’re in a four way group chat.

Where are you guys? <3

Immediately after she sends that message, she sends you a separate message.

Don’t you dare leave the chat.

You can feel your stomach turn.

You can see Izuku typing for a moment, a bubble and three dots hovering next to his name, but it disappears after a few moments, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

Suddenly you’re very self conscious about the way you look. Minimal makeup on your face. Your leggings and sneakers might be nice, but you haven’t done your hair in any way, opting for a french turban to clean up your look. You look nice and casual, but not eat-your-heart-out nice. Your handbag is-

You freeze. Izuku bought you this bag.

Your face is a blazing hot mess when the two men suddenly arrive. Your friend jumps out of her seat to hug Katsuki, leaving you and Izuku staring at each other for the first time in at least two months. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to inch your carry on bag, the gifted tote slightly behind you, hoping he won’t notice. He doesn’t, you think; he waves awkwardly, almost a salute to you and averts his eyes quickly.

You wave back, then try to find something else to occupy you.

You hate that every time you look at Izuku in person, you remember that pictures and videos never do him justice. He’s so much more handsome in the flesh, every time, and even though he’s clearly uncomfortable, a red tinge to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, he smiles nervously, especially when the attendant that brought them to this lounge reminds him his shoes have untied, and you can feel your heart go pitter-patter.

No. Absolutely not.

“Promise me you didn’t add those feather boas back into your luggage,” you overhear Katsuki say. Your friend’s arm is hooked around his, and you can hear her dodge the question artfully, as if the pink item isn’t peeking out of her carry on bag. She’d told you Katsuki helped her repack her bags last night, and had a lot to say about her choices, but you also know that she’s a free spirit and does whatever she feels despite her more rigid counterpart.

You’ve probably overpacked but that’s always been your modus operandi.

Izuku is still standing, unsure where to position himself in a way that’s close enough that he’s a member of the party, but not enough that he’s threatening your space. Just the thought of him being close is a bit suffocating and you’re far too aware of him to pretend he’s not around; in fact it’s starting to feel like he’s the only person in the room; everyone else that has filed in is starting to fall away into the background bit by bit.

Eventually, you suck in a deep breath, and decide to harden your heart just enough.

“You can sit there, Izuku, just don’t bother me,” is what comes out of your mouth.

It’s icy cold, especially the way that you call him by his name and not any form of ‘baby’ the way you would have just three months ago, and Izuku visibly deflates in response, but he nods and sits by you anyway per your direction. Despite the larger countenance from his broad shoulders and his athletic hero build, he makes himself as small as possible in the adjacent seat, so as to not upset you.

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Thanks.”

You bite your lower lip as you look away, but don’t respond. When you look up, your friend is giving you the two of you an appraising look, but looks away just as quickly, tossing her glance somewhere nonspecific.

A few more moments pass in silence, until it’s time to board.

You can be cordial for a week - you must.

"You Should Stay In My Good Graces"

Pairing: Pro Hero! Deku, X Pro Hero! Fem Reader

Warnings!: Infedelity Mention, jealousy or possesiveness, Mild Nsfw Mentions, public humiliation,Unwanted flirting,Gossip, strong language, AND OH BOY TEA TEA TEA...

Synopsis:Att the annual Hero Gala, tensions rise as Y/N, a renowned pro hero and Izuku Midoriya’s fiancée finds herself at the center of Bakugo’s lingering affections. Once her ex-boyfriend—and the man who cheated on her—Bakugo’s flirtations become bolder, testing Izuku’s patience. But when Bakugo takes the stage and makes a speech that leaves the crowd buzzing with whispers, Y/N decides it’s time to set the record straight.

Being a pro hero meant always being in the spotlight. Every move you made, every decision, every relationship—it was all up for scrutiny. But tonight wasn’t about villains or missions. Tonight was the annual Hero Gala, a time to celebrate victories, raise money, and—unfortunatelly—tolerate the company of people you’d rather forget.

People like Katsuki Bakugo.

You hadn’t spoken to him much since the breakup. There was no reason to. After he was the one who ruined it—cheating on you with Uraraka of all people—there was nothing left to say. You had moved on, you had healed, and now? You were engaged to the Number One Hero himself—Izuku Midoriya.

It was everything you could have wanted. Izuku was kind, strong, reliable. He was good to you in ways Bakugo never was. Where Bakugo let his pride get in the way, Izuku put you first. Where Bakugo was reckless with your heart, Izuku treated it like something precious.

And yet, Bakugo still had to make things difficult.

It started out subtle. Lingering looks. Offhand comments. At first, you ignored it, brushing it off as him being his usual cocky self, but Izuku noticed. He always noticed. The way Bakugo’s gaze would drag over you, the way his lips would quirk up at the corners like he knew something no one else did.

At first, Izuku was patient. He held his tongue, pushed down the irritation, focused on you—until the night of the gala.

You felt stunning. Your outfit was sleek, elegant, hugging all the right places. Izuku stood tall beside you, looking devastatingly handsome in his fitted suit, his tie matching the color of your dress. His fingers laced with yours, grounding you, yours.

The venue was grand, glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, the hum of conversation filling the air. Heroes from all over mingled, sipped champagne, posed for photos. Everything was perfect. Until Bakugo showed up.

“Damn, Y/N,” he muttered as he brushed past you at the bar, eyes flickering down your body. “You sure you wanna be engaged to Deku? We both know who you used to scream for.”

Izuku stiffened beside you. His fingers twitched at his side.

You barely got the chance to react before he stepped in front of you, blocking Bakugo’s line of sight.

“Watch it, Kacchan,” Izuku warned, his voice low.

Bakugo smirked, slow and deliberate. “Relax, nerd. Just reminiscin’.” He took a sip of his drink, smug. “Not my fault you’re livin’ in my leftovers.”

You barely had time to grab Izuku’s hand before his fist curled at his side. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, squeezing his fingers. “Let it go. He’s not worth it.”

Izuku clenched his jaw but let you pull him away. For now.

The night dragged on, tension thick in the air. Izuku kept you close, a protective hand on your waist, his lips occasionally brushing your temple. He was trying, but you could tell—Bakugo was getting under his skin.

And he wasn’t stopping.

Every time you passed by, Bakugo’s gaze would linger. If Izuku turned his back, he’d lean in too close, muttering, “Still as soft as I remember.” When you reached for a drink, his fingers would brush yours, intentional, smug.

You tried to ignore it, to focus on Izuku, to enjoy your night. But it was impossible when every time you caught Bakugo’s stare, it was like he was challenging you. Challenging Izuku.

Then, the worst part of the night came.

Bakugo was called on stage for his speech.

You tried to tune it out. You wanted to.

But he made that impossible too.

He adjusted the mic, that arrogant smirk never leaving his face. “First off, thanks for the fancy-ass party,” he said, voice rough yet confident. The audience chuckled. “We’re all here to celebrate another year of saving dumbasses, but let’s be real—some of us had better years than others.”

His red eyes flickered straight to you.

Your stomach twisted.

Izuku’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Gotta say, some people in this room got real lucky,” Bakugo continued, voice smooth. “Some people found success, some people found love—” he chuckled, shaking his head “—and some people settled.”

A few murmurs spread through the room. Your blood ran cold.

Izuku’s fingers tightened around his champagne glass.

“Y/N, you look damn good tonight,” Bakugo continued, voice casual, almost playful. “Deku, you sure you can keep up with all that? ‘Cause I still remember how she used to—”

The microphone cut out.

Because Izuku had yanked the cord that was laying in the front of the stage where all the heroes sat.

The room fell silent.

Izuku set his glass down calmly, placed a hand on your back, and whispered, “Excuse me for a second, sweetheart.” Then he stepped onto the stage.

Bakugo raised a brow. “Oh? Gonna try and shut me up, nerd?”

Izuku took the mic from his hands and looked straight into the crowd. Straight at the cameras.

“Let me make something clear,” he started, his voice even, controlled. “Y/N is my fiancée. And I don’t take that lightly.” He glanced back at Bakugo, something dangerous behind his green eyes. “And I sure as hell don’t need to hear about what happened in the past from the guy who ruined his own shot with her.”

The room erupted. Some gasped, others chuckled. Bakugo stiffened.

Izuku didn’t stop.

“You had her, Kacchan,” he continued. “You lost her. And now, she’s with me. So, if you have anything else to say, make sure it’s something worth listening to.”

He handed the mic back to the stunned announcer and walked straight back to you.

The moment was explosive. The crowd muttered, whispers turning into full-blown gossip.

“Did he just—?”“Wait, did Bakugo cheat on her with Uraraka?”“Oh my god, I heard about that—”“No wonder she left him—”

You heard everything. And you were done.

Because then, the announcer called your name for your speech.

You walked onto the stage, izuku taking your hand and guiding you so you don't fall but every eye was on you. The room was still buzzing from Izuku’s moment, the crowd still muttering about Bakugo’s humiliation, but you weren’t done yet.

Taking a slow breath, you lifted the mic to your lips.

“At first, I planned on talking about the importance of teamwork tonight. About how being a pro hero isn’t just about strength—it’s about strategy, about trust, about knowing that someone has your back even in the worst situations.” You scanned the crowd, stopping briefly on Izuku, who stood near the front, his green eyes warm and unwavering.

You continued.

“We all chose this path because we wanted to make a difference. We wanted to be the ones standing between the innocent and the people who’d do them harm. And none of us could do that alone.”

There were nods from the audience. Some murmurs of agreement. You saw a few heroes straighten up, listening more intently.

“I’m grateful to be here tonight,” you said, voice steady. “I’m grateful to fight alongside some of the best heroes in the world. To be part of a generation that’s working toward a safer future. And most of all, I’m grateful for the people who have stood beside me, who have lifted me up when things got hard.”

Your fingers curled tighter around the mic.

“Because this job? It’s not easy.” Your voice was firm, unwavering. “There are days when we doubt ourselves. Days when the weight of what we do feels too heavy. When the only thing keeping us going is the people we surround ourselves with.”

You let your gaze drift—right back to Bakugo.

Some in the crowd noticed. The murmuring started again. You saw Bakugo’s shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

You smiled.

“But let me tell you something,” you said smoothly, tilting your head slightly. “The people you surround yourself with? They matter.”

Silence.

You stepped forward.

“You can be the strongest hero in the world, but if the people closest to you aren’t supporting you, if they’re bringing you down instead of lifting you up—then you’ll never be the hero you want to be.” Your voice sharpened. “And you sure as hell won’t be the kind of person anyone should want to stand beside.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened.

You let the words sink in before continuing, a softer tone slipping into your voice.

“But I got lucky,” you said, your gaze drifting back to Izuku. His expression softened instantly, his lips parting slightly as he took in your words. “Because after making the mistake of trusting the wrong person, I found someone who showed me what it really means to be loved. Someone who doesn’t just fight beside me in battle but stands beside me in everything else. Someone who reminds me, every single day, why I love this job. Why I love my life.”

You smiled.

“And that someone… is Izuku Midoriya.”

The room erupted in applause. Cheers, murmurs, some gasps from the people who finally put the pieces together.

You turned back to Bakugo, your smile never faltering.

“So, Bakugo, I know you were feeling nostalgic earlier,” you said, voice smooth, almost teasing, “but the past doesn’t matter. What matters is now. And now?” You let out a small, breathy laugh. “I’m happier than I ever was with you.”

Another round of murmurs. Cameras flashing. A few knowing laughs rippling through the audience.

Bakugo didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. But his whole body was stiff, his face burning red—part anger, part humiliation.

You let the silence stretch before adding, voice silky smooth—

“Oh, and for the record?” You glanced at Izuku again, your eyes full of warmth. “Bakugo never made me scream like Izuku does.”

That? That broke the room.

People lost it.

A mixture of cheers, gasps, laughter—some heroes openly gaping at the sheer brutality of it. You saw Uraraka shrink into herself, her face pale, while Bakugo looked like he was about to punch a hole through the nearest wall.

And Izuku?

Izuku was already on his way to the stage.

Before you could even move, he was beside you, a hand sliding around your waist, his other gently taking the mic from your fingers. His grip was firm, possessive.

Then, without a word, he leaned in—and kissed you.

Right there, in front of everyone.

It wasn’t just any kiss. It was slow, deep, claiming. Like he wanted to make sure everyone—Bakugo especially—knew who you belonged to.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for just a second. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love you.”

The crowd? Absolutely lost their minds.

And Bakugo?... well lets just say,

For the first time that night, he had nothing to say.

ⓒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢʷᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵒᶜᶜᵉⁿᵗᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ

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Being Sukuna’s girlfriend is not always easy. He’s the type to show his love rarely, but when he does, it’s aggressive, to say the least.

You’ll often wake up with his large hand wrapped around your neck, his warm fingers just long enough to reach around your entire throat. At first, it was startling—a demon man you just started dating who shows basically no affection is choking you in your sleep? Was he trying to kill you and just got tired half way through??

All of your questions cease although, the moment you find out why he does this. You decided to pretend to be asleep one night as you were lying in his royal chambers, covered in love bites from moments before when he decided to suckle and nip at your skin—another strange way he shows his love for you. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as you hear him walk out of the bathroom, knowing he’s just finished brushing his teeth and is now ready for bed.

The mattress dips when he lies down next to you, inches away at first, but when you feel his large frame hover over your face to make sure you’re asleep, he moves right up against your back. You’re surprised to feel one of his muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist, the other reaching under your head so that you’re essentially using him as a pillow. His chest rumbles lowly when his hand moves below your chin, fingers carefully wrapping around your throat as usual.

You’re waiting for a squeeze, the tip of one of his nails jutting into your skin, or even a few harsh words in your ear. But all you feel next is his fingers tightening slowly, the tip of his index hovering just above your pulse point, before pressing into your soft, pliant skin. You feel your heart race against the pad of his finger, then another rumble from his chest against your back.

“Mine,” he whispers gently, before running his thumb over the soft edge of your jawline. He then presses one last kiss to the top of your head before lying his head down and closing his eyes.

Let’s just say, you never question his weird, sometimes animalistic, possession over you; because in reality, he’s just a big guy who doesn’t know how to express his unyielding love for you.

It’s givinggggggg tiger!sukuna. Should I…explore the waters of that concept more? I probably will despite the reaction to this💪🏻🫡

𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

request; Hello I was wondering if you could do a Liam Mairi x reader where involving the side-effects of having bonded mated dragons pair so they absolutely go feral with eachother while using the prompt "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."

synopsis; you and liam discover the trouble with mated dragons when you wind up in his bed. hidden feelings threaten to come to light.

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; smut (18+ only), p in v, soft sex w feels

word count; 2.6k

Reaching out blindly until your hand snags against the soft fabric of Liam’s sleep shirt, you take a shuddering breath as a surge of arousal locks you on the spot, every muscle coiling tight when you press your forehead to the wall and tug him closer. His thighs are bare and they flex when he stumbles towards you, bracing himself by means of a hand either side of your head, corded biceps caging you in when a ragged pant rips through you and you grit your teeth.

“Easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, the veins that wrap the lengths of his forearms like vines protruding from the creamy skin. You suppress a pathetic little noise that bubbles from the base of your throat, tipping your head back as Liam’s hand makes contact with the skin there. “Shh, shh.”

“Li-“ you whisper through gritted teeth. “I need you to tell me to go away. I can’t- can’t control myself.”

“No-“ he says, quickly – too quickly, desperation lining his every syllable. You’re all too familiar with the feeling, the panic that seeps into his voice at the prospect of you leaving in search of another man’s bed. He’s not too proud to beg you. “No. Stay, please.”

The thought of you leaving is near unbearable now he’s close enough to touch you — feel you. Close enough to smell the shampoo in the wisps of hair that fall around your flushed face, close enough that the scent of you cloys in his nostrils and throws all inhibitions out the window.

His body presses against yours and the contact sets every nerve ending you possess alight. You tremble when he glides steady fingers - much steadier than you’re feeling right now - over your half-bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped downward, coming to a halt over your skittering pulse. His head falls forward into the juncture of your neck.

“Fuck.” His voice is rasping, barely there in your ears as Deigh does something Áine particularly likes and a crusade of need slams through him.

You thread your fingers through the blond tresses that tickle at your skin, pointedly ignoring the obvious disparity of your bodies, how his dwarfs your own, the way it makes your head spin with the need to get closer, to claw your way into his skin and feel every inch of him.

“Liam,” you whine softly, arching into him as those thick arms twine around your waist, pulling your torso flush to his own. He squeezes you, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt you’re clad in, palming and groping at every bump and ridge, every hill and valley of flesh he can reach. He ventures lower; your fingers tense where they still lay in his soft hair, and when his palms flatten and tap firmly at the backs of your thighs, you know what he wants.

You oblige the clear instruction, pushing yourself up from the balls of your feet until you’re in Liam’s arms, legs looped around his waist and ankles crossed at the base of his spine. Your back hits the wall as he surges forward to nose at your jugular. His lips part, tongue flicking forward to lave at your balmy skin. As his head dips, trailing a hot, wet path of half moons in the wake of his lips, you shudder.

“I know, my girl. I know,” he coos, sympathetic. His words slur and jumble, each sound melting into the next as though he’s drunk from the feel - the taste - of you alone.

The pet name would be enough to have you melting with affection under usual circumstances— now, it’s enough to have you whining, craning your head to slant your lips hungrily over his own, uncaring if it’s messy or filthy or downright sinful. Your only mission is to feel him, to get closer, to roam every inch of him with your ravenous tongue and teeth and lips— greedy for his touch.

If anyone were to walk in they’d certainly blanch at the sight; you pinned against the wall closest to the door of Liam’s room, his eager fingers splayed over your ass as you breathe into each other’s mouths. You’re unconsciously grinding down into him in quick, fervent bursts, and he reciprocates the movement appreciatively, letting you slide down the cold wall until the thick length of him presses to your wet cunt— hindered only by the fabric of his boxers and the lace of your panties.

The material is almost translucent, soaked through with your arousal. Liam coos something sympathetic that you can’t quite decipher for the fog that clouds your every nerve ending, for the hand that slips between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing tight circles into your swollen clit through the ruined fabric. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes and you tremble round him, the pleasure everything you need and somehow nowhere near enough, all at once.

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs. “‘ve got you, angel. ‘S okay.”

You gasp wetly against his kiss-bitten lips, the only warning you give as you begin shuddering against him, your climax ripping through you before you even have time to think. Everything is so sensitive, every brush and graze of his skin against your own amplified tenfold— it’s too much but still, you greedily accept everything he’s willing to give you, teary eyes trained to his throat that works around a swallow as he watches you cum with heavy lidded eyes. Babbling around a sob, you part your lips from his in favour of sinking down into the juncture of his neck, your hot cheeks searing against the cooler skin that greets you like a soothing balm.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Liam,” you hiccup, grabbing large fistfuls of his t-shirt, the flimsy material the only thing that separates you from miles of toned skin and muscle. That lopsided grin cracks across his face, a dimple cratering onto the centre of his cheek as his teeth flash in an amused smile; his chest heaves, even more so when you slip your hands underneath his tee to palm at bare skin.

Setting you down on shaking legs, his hand encircles one of your wrists and tugs, leading you until you’re perched at the edge of the bed. He turns, elbows flaring wide as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt and drags the material over his head in one fluid motion. The planes of his back are bared to you, each individual muscle rolling and moving with one another as though they’re cogs in a well oiled machine. You want your mouth on every inch of that skin– no corner, no crevice left untouched.

And then he’s on you, prowling with a predatory glint in those cerulean eyes as his pupils swallow the bright hue of his irises; all he sees is you– the way you shrink and tremble at the fervent way he surveys you.

A wide palm slips beneath your own tee and curls around your ribcage, frantically rising and falling with every laboured breath. He shucks the fabric upward to expose your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, and watches with rapt fascination as your nipples harden into peaks under his attention.

You shift until you’re propped up on your elbows to allow him space to discard the item of clothing, complying when he nudges you until you’re flat against the mattress, legs hooked over his hips. Your head turns, face burning at the wolfish way his eyes rake over you, a great contrast to the flattened hands that scrub sweeping lines over the tops of your thighs to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, folding at the waist to smear a kiss against the curve of your jaw. His next words are a rumble against your skin that seep into your pores, into your very bones. “If it gets too much for you, all you have to do is tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”

His cadence is low and rasping, and the feel of the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek sending a wave of affection through you that knocks the breath from your lungs. You nod.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” you croak.

“Good girl.”

Your pussy aches with a sharp throb when he reaches down to press his thumb back to your swollen bundle of nerves; you whine, hips canting up into his touch unconsciously as he slips the wet material down your legs and discards them somewhere behind him.

He presses a kiss to your tummy, your knee, your ankle, and then pushes your legs up and back until they’re folded atop your chest. You gasp when his warm breath fans over your bare sex.

“Liam.”

“I know, angel,” he grunts. His voice patters out into breathless silence as you part your thighs, splaying a hand across his thrumming pulse to wrench him upwards and towards you. He doesn’t resist, putty in your hands. Absolutely, wholly yours.

“Please,” you whisper; his nose brushes yours. “Need you.”

He parts your lips with his own, slaking his hunger on you. He revels in every noise he pulls from your slick lips, every whine and gasp and plead for him to give you what you want. He swallows them all greedily and when - and only when - he’s decided you’ve begged him prettily enough, does he free his weeping cock and line up with your entrance.

He sinks in slowly, every thick inch of him splitting you wider than the previous. He’s thick, cock twitching against your cunt as the flushed head practically begs to be buried inside of you. The colour bleeds from your knuckles as you clutch his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents in the wake of your cruel touch; he hisses, and when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he sweeps down again to press wet, ardent kisses to your face and neck. He hooks your legs up against his hips, pulling back to rock back into the tight clutch of your cunt with slow, rhythmic movements.

He hits every spot inside of you without trying, the spongy head of him rubbing continuously over a particular spot you haven’t discovered yet; it has you keening, sobbing out a broken moan against his balmy cheek as he coos gentle praises against the shell of your ear.

His entire focus is fixated on him desperately trying to not blow his load at the first feel of your cunt clasping him, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he props a forearm either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, picking up his pace as your enthusiasm starts to peak, your shaking fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Your body arches beneath him, head tipping back when a soft whine spills from your swollen lips.

The lewd sound of slapping skin and heavy breathing encases your senses, drives you further to that edge that you’ve been aching for since you entered the room.

He’s so beautiful like this it sets you alight with adoration— and arousal: blond hair mussed and falling over his eyes, face flushed as he dips down to brush his nose with your own, plush, pink lips parted into a gasp when you clench around him.

“‘M so close, Li,” you croak, tightening your fingers where they’re carding through his hair.

“I know, angel. I know.” Deft fingers slide between your bodies as he works over your clit rhythmically— sweeping movements that alternate between tight circles and up and down motions as he places pressure on that bundle of nerves.

A sweet, quiet little gasp spills from your lips, and Liam doesn’t miss the way you tense, clinging to him harder as you shatter.

He coaxes you through it, movements never slowing as you ride out your peak, whining against his lips when he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming and writhing beneath him, kicking your legs feebly to push him away; he shudders at the movement, back bowing in the centre until he’s spilling into you with a groan. He braces himself with his head buried in the juncture of your neck, arms hooking around the base of your spine to hold you flush to him.

You both collapse in a haphazard mound of limbs and you roll onto your side to face Liam, his cheek still pressed to yours. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the length of your cheekbone, his smile imprinted into your skin as you hum and needle your way closer into his chest.

You don’t know what to say— neither does he. This silence is comfortable regardless, the gentle, lulling energy encasing the pair of you in this bubble.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your sticky forehead, smearing a kiss along the crown of your skull. Your lashes flutter, body soft and lax against his own as you greedily seep up his warmth. You’re weightless, your head pleasantly blank when he pulls the blankets over you, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed and to the bathroom.

There’s some shuffling and then emerges seconds later, clad in a clean pair of boxers and clutching a t-shirt for you to take. You’re still how he left you, laying on your side and dozing, cheek smushed against the back of your hand.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmurs, hooking an arm beneath your shoulder to hike you upright, handing you the tee; you rub at your heavy eyes with the backs of your fingers, swiping the fog away. He settles himself between your legs to clean you up, swiping a tissue between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that, Li,” you croak. “‘M okay, I’ve got it.”

You make to loop your fingers around his wrist to halt his movements, but he only tuts and swats your hand away with a smile. Affection rises in your chest, hot and fast and blinding.

“I’ve got you, my girl.”

There’s that name again. My girl. You’re melting, sure you’re nothing but a pile of mush following those two little words; he surveys you with those cerulean eyes, laced with nothing less than adoration.

“Liam,” you whine, protesting.

“Oh, hush.” He presses a kiss to the curve of your kneecap before pushing the blankets back over your legs.

You pull the oversized tee he’s pushed into your hands over your head appreciatively, resisting the urge to bury your face into the fabric and inhale at the scent of him that cloys the room, that swirls around your face in tantalising tendrils.

You love him, you realise. The admission isn’t terrifying as you thought it would be, but rather a calm wave that washes over you and grants you a newfound clarity. You want this all the time with him. You want everything.

The bed dips as he returns to your side, an arm around your waist until you’re both propped against the headboard, your face resting in the dip of his collarbone. You feel his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in at any moment, the sheer volume of love you hold for this boy too much for your body to hold onto. You brush your lips against his shoulder, blinking slowly in your haze. The rumble of his laugh carries right down to your bones.

“You’re beautiful,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

“You’re more beautiful,” he whispers back as though it’s a secret. Private words shared between the pair of you, for no one else to hear.

You’re asleep before you can respond, draped lazily over his torso. He shucks the blankets up until they’re covering you right up to your shoulders. Your nose scrunches unconsciously.

Fuck, he loves you.

I Only Want You - Liam Mairi

Request: Liam Mairi fic (smut) where he is the readers first time and he’s super sweet when she gets a little nervous or shy? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Fingering. Unprotected P in V. Readers first time.

Masterlist | Support Me

Ever since battle brief and the comment I had made, I had felt Liam’s eyes on me all day. Every time I met his gaze he didn’t look away. He’d look at me as if he was trying to figure something out. Like if there had been a hidden meaning in my words. And there had been.

Ever since I’d laid eyes on Liam I had been attracted to him. He was easily one of the most attractive riders in the quadrant in my opinion. And I knew a lot of other girls thought that with how they looked at him. Especially in gym or challenges. The way he moved and handled himself, it was like an art form. An art form I’m sure translated to his skills in bed. My room was just up from his, and at least once or twice a week I would catch a girl sneaking out or in. Usually the same girls, but occasionally I would see someone different.

But I had never dare hinted I wanted to see what it was like. I didn’t want to risk the friendship we had. Liam and I had hit it off almost immediately after I very nearly kicked his butt in the first day of challenges when we had been paired up. He eventually got the better of me and won. But after he pulled me up from the mat and introduced himself, we’d been close friends since. But now it felt like we were at a turning point in our friendship after my comment.

“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!” Violet says loudly as I join my squad and take my place next to Rhiannon.

*“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon asks in a sassy tone that nearly has me laughing.

”Threshing.” Violet says in a way to try shrug it off.*

*“And what about Barlowe’s constant threats?” I ask as I lean around Rhiannon with a smirk on my face. Liam shakes his head at me, knowing I’m just fuelling the fire now.

”They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.”*

*He pauses his wood carving as he shrugs his shoulders. “I mean, I’m not opposed-”

”Don’t even start.” Violet whips her head towards Liam. “You are a shameless flirt.”

His usually cocky grin spreads across his face. “Thank you.”*

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Rhiannon leans back in her chair and laughs. “Don’t mind her, she’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” Adds as she starts writing in her book.

“That has nothing to do with it.” Violet mutters.

“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” Rhiannon adds with a sweet smile.

“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut.” Liam says teasingly.

“Maybe not for her.” I add a little too flirtatiously, causing Liam’s eyes to snap to me as I sink back into my chair trying to hide behind Rhiannon as my cheeks flush bright red. Shit.

I yet again felt his eyes on me as I walked into the dining hall. As my eyes scan the hall I find him sitting with Xaden, Garrick and Bodhi. All of whom are looking at me then back at Liam before laughing at him. Were they talking about me? Surely not. I tear my gaze from them and grab some food for dinner before walking over to Imogen and Rhiannon who were the only ones in our squad at our usual table. Both of them going silent as I take seat next to Imogen and slowly pick at my food.

“You ok? You’ve been super quiet since battle brief?” Rhiannon asks as I roll a potato around my plate.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” I tell her as I look up at her. Behind her I see Liam and Xaden looking over at me.

“Regretting the comment you made to Liam about sex?” Rhiannon teases me as Imogen’s head whips towards me.

“Clearly I need to sit closer to you first years in battle brief. What did you say to him?” She asks a she props her head up on her arm as she looks at me, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Violet made a comment about missing sex, and the boys started being well boys and Violet shot them down, then this one her pipes up and says to Liam maybe he’d make the cut for someone else. Gods I’ve never seen those boys eyes go as wide as they did when those words left her mouth.” Rhiannon informs Imogen.

“And he’s been avoiding me ever since. Successfully ruined that friendship.” I say sarcastically as I finally stab the potato on my plate.

“And yet his eyes have not left you once since battle brief.” She adds sternly.

“Wait, you haven’t hooked up with him?” Imogen asks as her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Wait, you think Liam and I have slept together?”

She shrugs. “I mean with the way he looks at you and follows you around. Hell no guy goes anywhere near you because of him, and trust me they’ve tried. Even poor Bodhi over there wanted to have a shot with you before Liam sternly told him to look elsewhere.”

I shake my heat at them. “Trust me, not been there or done that. Not with anyone. And he doesn’t see me that way.”

Both girls look at me like I’ve told them the skies as pink as Imogen’s hair.

”Wait, you’re a virgin?” Rhiannon asks, lowering her voice so only I can hear her.

I nod. “Yes, and he definitely wont want to be with someone who has no experience/”

“You girl are so blind and oblivious.” Imogen states bluntly.

“I am not. If he wanted to be with me he would’ve tried. And he hasn’t. And I don’t want to be added to the list of girls he brings back to his room every other night.” I say a little too angrily.

“And also jealous apparently.” Imogen adds with a smirk.

“Am not.”

”Then how many girls are there?” Rhiannon asks.

I purse my lips together. And it’s all the answer they need from me to prove their point. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not the one girl kind of guy. And I don’t want to be on a list. It ain’t happening.”

“Maybe you just need to shoot your shot? What’s the worst that could happen?” Imogen adds so casually.

”I ain’t wrecking the friendship more than I have already. It will all be fine in a few days. He’ll sleep with someone and forget all about it.”

”I don’t know, that boys eyes have barely left you since you walked in and sat down. I say just go for it.” She adds before turning her attention back to her food.

I look up and immediately meet Liam’s blue eyes. I feel like he’s staring into my soul. As if trying to read my mind and intentions behind that comment. I shove my barely touched plate of food away before walking out of the dining hall and back to my room. I’m glad neither Rhiannon or Imogen try to follow me. Clearly deemed I’d had enough teasing for the evening. But in my hurry to leave, and my mind elsewhere. I don’t hear another set of feet following me, running to catch up. It’s not till they call out to me, that my blood runs cold with dread and my heart starts beating at a rapid pace.

“Y/N, wait up!” Liam calls behind me.

Only one more corridor and I can hide in my room for the night. Hide and deal with this tomorrow. I push my legs faster hoping my pace is faster than his. But it isn’t, and his hand grasp my wrist and spins me towards him. His other hand reaching out to steady me as I collide with his very solid muscular chest beneath his tight fitting black linen shirt. Too embarrassed to look him in the eye, I keep my eyes focused on the ground. He goes to grab my chin to raise my head but I tilt my head to the side and avoid his grip. I don’t have to know his eyes are furrowed at me right now. I’ve never avoided him touching me like that. Like I hated being close to him.

”Can you look at me?” He asks softly, his hand falling to his side.

I keep my eyes firmly on the floor. “What do you want Liam?”

”I want you to look at me Y/N. I want you to talk to me and not ignore me like I’m the plague like you have since battle brief.”

Anger flairs in me and has my eyes flicking up to his in an instant. “You weren’t exactly doing much better.” I snap.

He chuckles at me. “There she is.” I roll my eyes and go to leave, but he reaches out again and grasps my wrist.

I turn back and face him, watch as he swallows slowly, nervously. His eyes darting over me. Liam was nervous. Something I could say I had never seen him be.

“Are you ok?” I ask quietly.

”That comment you made today. In battle brief.” I gulp. Shit. “Did you mean you when you made that comment?”

I roll my eyes. “Heaps of girls want to be with you Liam, you know that.” I say trying to dodge the questions as I look down at my hands.

”That’s not what I asked.” He pleads, his fingers grasping my chin and forcing my eyes back to him. My breath catches in my throat at the intensity in his gaze “Did you mean you?”

His voice is almost pleading. Like, like he wanted my words to mean me. That I wanted him. That he would make the cut for me. That I would let him in.

”And what if I did? What if I was meaning me?” I ask quietly as I take a cautious step closer and place a hand on his chest as his hand moves from my chin to cup my cheek.

”Then we might need to go somewhere else if you did sweetheart.”

Gods I could have melted at the huskiness in his voice.

”I’m not being another girl on your list. It’s not what I want. And….”

“And what?” He asks, leaning down towards me.

”I’m…. I’ve never been with anyone. Ever.” I confess, averting my eyes from his.

”You would be the only girl on my list if you meant you. I only want you.” His voice so soft and gentle as his thumb runs over my cheek.

I look back up at him, his blue eyes piercing into mine. ”Then yes. I did mean me.”

I gasp as Liam backs me into my closed door, my legs locking around my waist as he kisses me, so soft and gentle as if testing the waters. He bites my lip before pushing his tongue into my mouth when I gasp at the sensation. His hands push under my shirt, his fingers skimming up and down my sides. I moan into his mouth as his grip around my waist tightens. His weight pushing me back into the door. I instinctively wind my fingers into his hair, as I tug I feel the moan rumble from his chest before he removes his lips from mine and rests his forehead on mine.

“Do that again.” He whispers against my lips.

I smile and do as he says, tugging on his blonde hair. I watch as his eyes darken and flare with desire. He walks backwards from the door, placing me back on my feet as he pushes the jacket from my arms and tugs on the bottom of my shirt. I raise my arms and he’s quick to discard of the material before removing his own. I go to trace the relic on his arm, but he kneels and starts to remove my boots, followed by my pants and underwear. He slowly stands back up, kissing his way back up my leg, sending shivers through my body. As he stands to his full height, he quickly removes his pants, exposing himself to me. He chuckles as I take him in. All of him.

Neither of us speaks, not wanting to break the moment. Liam grabs my hand and pulls me with him as he sits down on desk chair, guiding my legs either side of him. I go to sit but his hands hold me up by my waist. One of his hands slowly moves down, his fingers lightly caressing my skin as he makes his way between my legs. My hands grasps his shoulders as a moan rips from my throat as he inserts to fingers into me, my eyes closing as my head rolls back. He curls his fingers inside me, hitting the perfect spot, causing my to jump forward a little, but Liam’s hand keeps me steady as he chuckles at my reaction. He slowly slips his fingers from me as I groan at the loss. Liam’s hand comes up and cups my cheeks, my eyes opening to meet his.

“You ready?” He asks me, eyes blown wide with lust, but looking at me like I am the most precious thing in the world.

I look down at him. Gods I’m nervous. But I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. And now all embarassment and regret from making that comment in battle brief was gone. Because now I had Liam sitting below me, looking at me like I’m his everything.

I nod. “I’m ready.”

My eyes go wide as he stretches me open. It takes all my will power to keep my eyes open and looking at him. They risk fluttering shut but I force them open. My fingernails dig into Liam’s shoulder, definitely leaving marks as he lowers me slowly onto him. Eventually he sheaths himself inside me as I sit in his lap, a moan rippling through me and him.

He leans back in the chair as best as he can, as he starts to thrust slowly up and down. Each thrust pulling sounds I didn’t know were possible to come out of me as I clench around him. Every time i clench around him his fingers dig into my waist. His lips meet my neck, pressing light kisses and bites as he moves his way down my neck. As my fingers slip back into his hair and tug, he bites down hard causing me to yelp.

Liam thrusts up into me as he wraps his arms around my waist as he stands up, keeping himself inside me as he walks over to the bed and lays me down. He hitches my legs over his shoulders, immediately making me moan with out even moving. The position of my legs now having him hit a completely different angle in me. He smirks at me as I squirm under him. His hands find their place either side of my head as he leans forward and thrust into me. This time I am unable to keep my eyes on him as they roll back and flutter close. Liam clearly forgotten about the command he had given me as I clench around him and his pace picks up.

My hands reach up and pull Liam’s lips down to mine in a passionate kiss that is a fight for dominance. Each of us biting at our lips, our tongues fighting, Eventually Liam wins as my fingers run down his chest. He moves one of his hands to raise my hips, my eyes flying open at the new angle as Liam rests his forehead against mine as he stares into my eyes. A silent command to keep my eyes on him as we finish. With the rate I’m clamping down around him, he knows I’m close. Liam shifts his balance on his legs, his hand not raising my hips moving to my most sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately I come undone beneath him. His name rolling off my lips, mine soon tumbling off his as he finishes as well.

In one swift movement Liam rolls to his side, pulling me with him and cradling me against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head as his fingers trace up my thigh and back, lulling me into sleep. Liam must sense me dozing off in his arms as he pulls the blanket over us, his arms tightening around me as I doze off into the best sleep I’ve ever had.

Liam ”It‘s been. My honor.” Mairi

Tight Black Leathers

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x reader

Warnings: SMUT, mdni, 18+

Summary: As Liam's girlfriend, you've been feeling rather... fed up, lately, that he's been ordered to hang out all day with another female. So... whatever will you do about it?

SR’s Note: Ooh, switching it up with a Fourth Wing fic? Okay, okay... and yes of course, Liam is my favorite character from Fourth Wing. No, I still haven't recovered. No, I probably never will. Denial is a river in Egypt-

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You clicked the power button on your phone once more, checking fruitlessly to see if your boyfriend had responded to your message. Of course, he hadn't -- but you'd expected as much. It was Friday, which meant he was on Violet-duty today, per usual.

With a sigh, you tucked the device into your pocket, zipping it shut as a familiar voice approached behind you.

"Hey Y/N!" Rhiannon's usual bubbly tone made you smile, and she took in your state. Her face softened as she took you in a warm embrace. You appreciated the kindness she offered you -- her friendship was a priceless one you'd made after crossing the parapet. She was one of the only people, other than your boyfriend, who truly understood how hard it was to be a rider when you were meant your whole life to be a healer instead.

"Still haven't heard from him?" She asks softly, releasing you. You shake your head, and she loops her arm through yours, pulling you with her in a cadence down the dormitory hallway.

"Well, there's no point in waiting around doing nothing," she starts. "We may as well have some lunch, hmm?" As if on cue, your stomach gurgles, and you both chuckle at the sound. You truly couldn't be more grateful -- you hadn't eaten all morning.

Entering the cafeteria, you find your squad -- well, most of them. Imogene's unmissable pink hair shakes back and forth as she listens to a ridiculous story Ridoc recounts; Sawyer is laughing at something Bodhi is saying across the table. You can't help but wonder...

"Hey guys!" Ridoc greets Rhiannon and you with a smile, but you only continue to search the tables near you. Imogene folds her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair.

"He's not here," she says, and you look to her. Rhiannon takes a seat, motioning for you to sit by her, but you only stare at Imogene in hopes she'll keep talking. "Violet took the lunch break to get in extra training time, so-"

You squeeze your eyes shut, head dropping to face the floor. You'd been missing him so much recently, since Xaden assigned him to follow your fellow cadet around like a guardian, you barely saw him anymore. Your own boyfriend. He was spending time with another female. That was really starting to get old.

"Of course." You clip. Ridoc huffs a laugh, and Rhiannon glares at him.

"He's only doing what Xaden tells him-" Bodhi begins, and your eyes slide to his.

"Anymore, I don't really care what Xaden-" Your rage begins to bubble over, and the table falls silent as their gazes drift behind you. Shadows curl around your fists, the cool tendrils working against your warmed skin.

"Care what Xaden... what, exactly? As your Wingleader, I would love to hear you finish that sentence, Y/N." Xaden's lethally calm voice sounds from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, face falling at the realization. You shake your head.

"I... it's... look, I just think it's a bit much to have Liam following Violet around all day, don't you think? Can't she defend herself?" You ask. His hard gaze on you only intensifies.

"I would say Liam is one of the strongest in this wing, wouldn't you agree?" He asks, and you nod.

"Yes, but-"

"So he will continue to defend what's most precious to me." He says in finality, turning to walk away as you scoff, throwing your hands in the air.

"What about what's most precious to me, huh? I never get to see him anymore because you're always having him whisked away to defend your girlfriend -- isn't that your job!?" You nearly shout. The entire room goes silent, and Bodhi slaps a hand over his mouth. Rhiannon's jaw is practically on the floor, but your eyes are only met with Xaden's searing gaze as he turns to face you once more. He steps close to you, speaking again in his constrained, calm voice.

"I highly suggest you take the rest of the afternoon off, cadet y/l/n. You seem a bit high strung -- wouldn't want you too worked up for the challenges later this evening." The muscle in his jaw ticks as you turn on your heel, beelining for the exit and stomping all the way back to your dorm room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You know what? Xaden was right. The afternoon off was exactly what you needed before a night full of challenges. You spent the whole afternoon getting yourself more riled up within the confines of your dorm, pacing back and forth and glaring into your mirror. Did you nap? Nope. Try to calm down, do some meditation, maybe? Absolutely not. Perhaps stretch, or read a book so you were at ease before the night began then. Hell no.

You were ripping a brush through your long hair, slamming it down on your desk when you decided the strands were untangled enough. You yanked at the band around your wrist, muscle memory causing your hands to wind your hair into a ponytail atop your head when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You glance down at your phone still dark on your desk, and an idea sparks in your mind. Dropping your hands, you run them through the strands a few times before separating the mass into three sections. Since he likes the Sorrengail so damn bad, you thought. Maybe you'd show him you she wasn't anything special. She was just like everyone else here; she was just like you.

Securing the band at the base of the tight braid, you sway side to side, pleased with the result. Pulling on your tightest-fitting leathers and boots, you sheath your finest daggers and head out of your room. Within minutes, you've crossed the courtyard and are in the training center, approaching a mat near the center where you find Ridoc and Bodhi and Rhiannon gathered. Rhiannon turns when Ridoc whistles loudly at you. You lighten your steps on instinct, realizing you're still stomping your way across the mats toward them.

"Ohhhh my, Y/N," she looks you up and down, taking you in fully. You huff a breath, pretending not to notice her stare. Or Ridoc's. Or Bodhi's. Or Violet's...

Or Liam's. From three mats over.

"New tactic?" Ridoc laughs, and you roll your eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uhhh, distracting your opponent with the tightest black fighting leathers you could find?" Rhiannon giggles, and you scoff, feigning innocence. Bodhi only groans.

"CADETS, attention please!" Emmetario shouts. He stalks closer to the mat you stand before, calling off more pairs for challenges. You and your friends watch as people fight and wrestle match after match. Rhiannon wins her challenge, Ridoc hands Jack Barlowe's ass to him, and your attention snags on the mat a few feet away as a new pairing is called forth. Your perfect, wonderful boyfriend is taking the mat, shucking off his tee and revealing his perfectly toned body, abdominals flexing as he laughs at something Xaden says. He takes a fighting stance as another guy from third wing stands opposite him, and they begin. It's not long before Liam has the poor fella on the floor, tapping out. Being the kind male he is, Liam hops off and helps him up, shaking his hand and offering him a kind smile after they finish their challenge.

As he is exiting the mat, his eyes meet yours and widen slightly, raking over your body as he slowly steps off the platform. They linger on the straps clinging to the curve of your ass, then trail back up to the form-fitting compression shirt you've chosen and his brows knit in confusion when he notices your new hairstyle. You tilt your chin up and flip your hair over your shoulder, just as Emmetario bellows once more.

"Bodhi and Y/N!"

You walk onto the mat, Rhiannon cheering from the sidelines. Bodhi looks to you in silent apology, and you position yourself close to your friend, taking your beginning stance. You can see the worry in his expression, and you glance to your left as Liam, Violet, and Xaden flank the edge of the mat to observe as well.

"Bodhi, it's alright. I know you won't hurt me for real," You say. He grins at you.

"Never." Is all he says, taking his beginning position, not-so-subtly drinking in your form so close to his. You smirk.

"Begin!" Emmetario calls. Bodhi immediately lunges for you, but you're quick and dodge his advance, and he stumbles forward -- you've trained with him countless times, you knew he'd make the first move. You snake to the side, wrapping your arms around his midsection and using your whole body weight to throw yourselves both to the ground. You cry out as you land on your own elbow, and he tries to roll you onto your back. You dig your heels into the ground, fighting with all your strength to stay to the side of him and not let him get on top. He's stronger though, flipping you with his hands around your knees. You plant both feet in his ribs, knocking into him with as much force as you can muster and he falls back with a sharp cry.

The growing crowd winces and you jump to your feet once more, him following suit and clutching his side only for a moment before charging you once more. You crouch; but you're too slow this time. In seconds, his hands wrap around your waist and your thrown over his shoulder, hands smacking against his back.

You know what comes next -- this is the part where your opponent will throw you onto the mat, onto your back, knocking the wind out of you. You won't let that happen; not tonight. You tap into the rage you felt, all day, all week, and unleash it, feeling every feeling all over again.

Anger. You push against Bodhi, his hands losing grip and you tumbling haphazardly down his back. "Keep pushing, Y/N!" Rhiannon shouts.

Hate. You turn, Bodhi's still doubled over. Now's your chance. You run, jump, cling onto him, grabbing his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist-

Jealousy. It was a ploy. He whips you around, throwing you to the mat, hard. You shriek, breath catching in your throat as he holds you down with his forearm. He gazes down at you, his familiar friendly orbs glowing with warmth as he shifts uncomfortably above you.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N, but... I'll be damned if anyone ever climbs me like a fuckin' tree-" the words die in his throat as your red-hot emotions dissipate, laughter rising and breaking free past your lips as he chuckles along with you.

"I don't care! I said she's done!" The sharp tone has your gaze turning to the left, the crowd making way as Emmetario calls after the tall male entering the mat and heading straight for you. In seconds, Bodhi's weight is completely lifted off of you and you suck in a breath of full, delightful air.

"Yep, and you can stay the fuck off of her, thank you very much," Liam gripes, bending down to grasp both of your hands in his and pull you up. You gasp as pain blooms in your back, and he begins leading you off the mat, away from the crowd. Toward the exit.

"Liam... Liam... I didn't tap out; my challenge wasn't over-" you stutter. He turns, his raging blue eyes narrowed on you. Yours widened in shock as you register an emotion so rare, especially for him you almost missed it.

Sadness.

"Trust me. It was over."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

"Liam, it's only a bruise, it'll be healed in a few-"

"He shouldn't have been man-handling you like that."

You stare at him, pacing back and forth in your dorm room from the bed where you sit. He half carried you back here a half hour ago, ending your challenge early and ignoring orders from a professor in the process. Now he seemed all worked up over your injuries, which were rather minor, at that.

"Like what, exactly? Liam, I've trained with Bodhi a million times. I know he would never hurt me. Not for real, anyways." You say, and Liam meets your gaze. His deep blue eyes are as dark as the midnight sea, only illuminated by the candle lights in your room. He chews on his bottom lip, halting his pacing.

"He trains with you?" He asks quietly. You scoff incredulously, fiddling with the band at the end of your braid and loosening the strands.

"Yeah? He's my friend, Liam. I have to have someone to spar with, right? It's not like my boyfriend is exactly... available..." you trail off, casting your eyes toward the floor. You finish undoing your braid, the strands hanging in loose waves over your shoulders. His brows knot in confusion.

"Y/N, what are you... what do you mean?" he walks close, kneeling before you, placing his hands on your knees. His face is level with yours, and Gods damn you if you don't want to kiss him-

"You know I'm always here for you Y/N..." he says softly. You meet his gaze, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering.

"Liam... I barely even see you anymore." Oh boy, here we go. "You always have to be with... with Violet... and if I do see you, it's never in our own privacy... I never just get you alone, to myself..." you trail off. He presses a soft kiss to your knee, and you praise yourself for changing into shorts and one of his big shirts when you returned earlier.

"Baby... you know I just have to hang out with Violet for now, just because of all the attacks and such, but," he places another soft kiss further up your thigh, and you feel your pulse quickening by the second. "...you have me alone... right now, right?" He asks sweetly, his eyes meeting yours again. You lean back on your elbows, and though his tone is sweet, the lust swirling in his irises tells a different story. You nod wordlessly, and he continues moving up your body, softly pushing up the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. His eyes remain in contact with your as he plants soft kisses up your abdomen, the muscles flexing as you fight to remain calm under his searing touch.

He pulls back, lips curing into a wicked grin as his eyes waver to your waistband, and he hooks a finger under the seam.

"If you wanted to be... man-handled... you could have just... asked." He says, your eyes widening at his words. Heat pools between your thighs, the incessant need for your boyfriend to ravage you only growing with every passing second he teases you. He chuckles, slipping a hand beneath the bands of both your shorts and underwear and wasting no time sliding a finger through your folds, easily gliding through the slickness. His lusting gaze meets yours again, and his free hand pushes himself closer to you on the bed.

"Mmm... you really have been missing me, haven't you?" You nod, looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. He shakes his head, cupping your jaw and running a thumb over your lower lip while continuing to tease your leaking heat with his other hand.

"Such a good girl... I haven't been around as much as I should, have I." He says it more to himself, his forefinger circling your entrance and you rock your hips forward, aching for more.

"I haven't been as good of a boyfriend lately, and I'm sorry for that, okay?" He cups your cheek, and you meet his gaze.

"Liam... please..." you beg.

"Let me make it up to you?" He asks. Your nod of confirmation is all he needs as he slips both his index and middle fingers in -- knuckles deep. You gasp, jolting forward a bit and he pulls out, reinserting and driving them back in again. You bite out a moan, leaning back on your hands and looking up into his eyes. He's smirking down at you, drinking in every inch of your complexion as he massages that spongy spot inside of you.

"Liam..." you chant. "Liam, oh... my..... please-" He rises from his knees on the floor, continuing to curl his fingers inside you, to hover over you. He cuts off your whimpers with a beautiful, bruising kiss that is both sloppy and salivating. A mix of tongue and teeth clash as you make out with a primal need, his teeth finding your swollen bottom lip and playfully latching on. You groan once more, feeling the warm band in your stomach tightening.

"Gods I'm... I'm so-" Liam retracts his fingers and you groan, his lips finding yours again. He shucks his trousers off, kicking his boots off moments later. He breaks the kiss, yanking his shirt over his head and pulling yours off after, your bottoms following. Laying bare before him, he breathes deep, loosing his breath through the nose as he hovers overtop of your naked form.

"Y/N, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says sweetly. You blush, even though this is the hundredth time you've had sex with the man and probably the hundred millionth time he's called you pretty. You feel his hard on grounding against you, and you wiggle your hips, only creating more friction. Liams hand meets your hip, holding firm.

"Tsk tsk," he says, kissing your nose. His hand snakes between the two of you, his knuckles brushing against your pelvis making you shiver. His fingers wrap around the length of his cock and stroke a few times as he inches closer, and when the head finally makes contact with your dripping core, you whimper.

"Li... please..." He flashes you a devilish grin, his cute dimple warming your heart as your hands find their way to his built shoulders atop you.

"Since you asked so nicely," he says lowly, and pushes into you. You suck in a breath, the small stretch increasingly painful as he continues to push in, inch by delicious inch. The pleasure courses through you when he is finally fully sheathed inside of you, a growl escaping his throat as his hips retract and slam back in with immeasurable force.

"LIAM-" You shout. He pulls his hips back again, only pulling out half way as he continues to pound into you relentlessly, relishing in every breathless moan and scream of his name he can pull from your perfect lips.

"So tight, baby.... my gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he praises. Your hands slide down his tones arms, and the calloused fingers on one of his hands thread through your delicate ones, holding them to the mattress above your head. His breath comes out in short pants, and you let out a particularly sharp gasp.

"Ugh, fuck Liam; just like that," you breathe. His fingers let go of yours and wrap around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. HIs pace quickens as your breasts bounce with every quick thrust he delivers.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he says between breaths. His soft grunts almost send you over the edge, the new pace and angle spurring the impending orgasm from within. His warm breath tickles your neck, and his lips find your cheek, placing a single kiss as he continues to savagely thrust into you. "So perfect..." he whimpers.

You can't hold it together long enough to warn him this time as you fly over the edge, your orgasm barreling through you. You cry out, hands tugging on the ends of Liam's hair as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock that hasn't yet slowed, riding you through your high. Your thighs start to shake, and Liam's mouth drops open as his eyes meet yours once more.

"Oh fuck, Y/N-" he jolts, releasing inside of your pulsing core as his movements begin to slow. Your combined ragged breaths are the only sounds filling the room, and his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone as his eyes lovingly gaze into yours again. You offer him a soft smile in your fucked-out state and he chuckles, slowly slipping out of you and retrieving a cloth from your desk. You move to take it from him, but per usual, he insists on cleaning you up himself.

Ahh, the gentleman he is.

He returns from tossing the cloth in the wastebasket, and you pull his big tee over your head for the second time today. He frowns at you, and shrugs, reaching for his pants and pulling them back up over his hips. He takes the spot on the bed next to you, propping up on an elbow to stare down upon you.

"I meant it," he starts, and you sigh.

"Liam-"

"Really, Y/N. I know its shitty that I have to always hang around with Violet. I know it sucks that it means I have less time with you. And... and I know it isn't your favorite thing. It isn't mine either." He says, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his index finger before letting it fall, and going for another piece.

"I know this, and I still listen to Xaden's orders. I know that doesn't make me a very good boyfriend, and I need to do better." He says in finality with a nod. "I'll talk to Xaden in the morning about it." You lean up off the bed, planting your lips on his. His hands cradle the back of your head, kissing you back with all the love he has to give. When you pull away, you know that no matter what, no matter how much or how little time you have together, there's no changing the connection the two of you share.

"Liam, I don't think I could find a better boyfriend than the one laying next to me in this very moment. You're as good as they get, my love."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

(･ω･)つ andy’s notes: many folks requested this menace, enjoy! cws: smut, all characters 20+, fantasies about oral - m!receiving, face fucking, dirty talk, degradation, gn!reader

touchstarved!isagi who practically has entire playbooks dedicated to how to talk to you. attempts to get advice from his teammates, but they're all equally bad at flirting

touchstarved!isagi who is about as subtle as a brick to the head when it comes to liking you. big ol’ eyes following you around wherever you go, yap mode set to 11 whenever you sit next to him

touchstarved!isagi who is the nastiest little pervert as soon as he’s alone, fisting his cock and daydreaming about you trembling underneath him

touchstarved!isagi who can’t believe his fucking luck when you agree to go out with him

touchstarved!isagi who stutters and blushes when you hold his hand on your after-dinner stroll

touchstarved!isagi whose makes his confidence known later that night, laughing between your thighs, your arousal dripping from his chin. "did you think I was done, princess? just gettin' started" (good luck walking tomorrow)

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. divider by @bernardsbendystraws

"𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡"

dating rumors immediately started going around after influencer and model! reader and pro soccer player! isagi yoichi had taken a picture together at one of the athlete’s recent matches. 

of course, it all started with isagi admitting on an interview with a popular late night show host that his celebrity crush was you. after all, he loved how you laughed a lot in your videos, and also had a wonderful smile. not to mention you were drop dead gorgeous, no wonder why you were the face of popular designer brands like van cleef, louis vuitton, christian louboutin, and chanel! 

the two of you began talking after the clip went viral and caught your attention (you had been tagged thousands of times by your fans, a lot of them in ship edits of the two of you). however, it was nothing more than friends until the athlete invited you to his soccer match against the infamous manshine (manchester) city. 

isagi’s team proudly claimed victory thanks to his many assists and final goal, but it seemed that the sole picture of the two of you that you posted on your instagram went more viral than the football club’s win. 

both you and isagi’s PR teams were stressing about what to do with the media, and it didn’t help that you replied to a comment saying “i sense a WAG 🤭” with “it’s not like that 😔” to which many people replied: “watch, this won’t age well” and boy were they right

just a month later, isagi had posted a picture of him wearing a clean white-collared long sleeve shirt that wrapped around his muscles well, along with a designer belt and black pants. he appeared to be sitting in a chair, but what caught everyone’s attention was the red lipstick kiss stain left on his neck. the caption didn’t help either: “okay so we’re not just friends”

his fans immediately left to see your page, and your fans immediately left to see his page after your instagram post: a picture of you with a black dress and white bag, wearing red lipstick, the same shade on isagi’s neck. 

the top comment? “this is what i call a hard launch”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

a/n: i’m still thinking about when i called my guy best friend ness on accident because his first name is alexis and he looked at me like 😐

header credits go to mendokucha on twitter!

yoichi isagi x f!reader 𑣲 quickie

cw: 18+ content, rushed sex, im not good at picking up on characteristics so forgive me if anything i write is out of character for isagi!

minors do not interact

you and your boyfriend isagi were supposed to be going out for dinner with isagis parents later that evening at a restaurant. yet, you and isagi both got yourselfs pretty worked up from an earlier on quick little make out session.

now, you were in isagis bed, his dick deep inside you as his mom knocks on his bedroom door telling him you both need to hurry up. isagis hand covered your mouth. “one minute mom!” he exclaimed. his mom replied saying they were gonna wait in the car. once isagi was sure they had all gone to wait, he started moving again, taking his hand off your mouth. “g-gosh..s’ close..” you mumbled, your wet pussy clenching around isagis cock as you neared ur orgasm.

“i know, baby..ah-..m’ close too..” isagi groaned, picking up his pace as he rushed.

isagi held onto your waist, your arm draped over your face as you moaned and squirmed beneath him. his cock stretching you out deliciously as he pumped in and out of your pretty little pussy. sweat sticking to his forehead, and yours. isagi hated that he had to rush sex, he would’ve preferred a more intimate time. but he couldn’t go to dinner with his parents with a stiffy.

once you both reached ur orgasms, you cleaned yourselves up and sorted out your clothes, heading down to the car outside.

“were here mom!”

@ dreamymarz - send reqs please!

this was requested! hope u liked it!

[ please to not copy/re-use my content. ]

dating rumors

izuku, bakugou, denki, sero x reader (individual)

false rumors have been circulating that you and a certain hero are a little closer than you let on.

part two

notes: both of you are pro heros in this scenario. inspired by shouto’s texts in this scenario. realized i don't listen to enough love songs,, especially ones that sero would listen to. i personally think the song he posted would be 'stop tonight' by yellowbirds but i let you self insert it :]

Having the Number One pro hero as your boyfriend is not easy.

Especially when you're a pro hero yourself.

And especially when your relationship is supposed to be a secret.

And even more especially when your boyfriend needs to be around you every second of every day like his life depends on it.

Izuku's a sweet man, he always has been and always will be. But sweet isn't even close to the word someone could use to describe how he treated you. In fact, even infatuated wouldn't be sufficient.

But Izuku's love has a price. He knows you can damn well defend yourself (trust me, he probably knows best after you almost stabbed him by accident when he came home in the middle of the night with no warning)—but still, he worries.

Which is why, much to his chagrin more than your own, you kept your relationship hidden from the public.

But like I said, Izuku's love for you is a force stronger than One for All itself.

So you can imagine this 'secret relationship' thing didn't really work out..

It was after a mission, a big operation in the city - the heroes had won but barely.

You were all exhausted.

And your boyfriend Pro Hero Deku more than most.

You were talking with a reporter, trying to reassure the civilians that everything was now resolved, when Izuku stumbles over and just starts peppering your face with kisses tiredly, the battle taking so much out of him that he forgets where he is.

he just wants his baby :(

All you can really do is stand there and take it, face bright red as a stunned cameraman and civilians start snapping photos and taking videos of the affectionate pro hero.

...Good thing you can defend yourself.

A/N: Deku's not one of my favs heh but he's such a sweetheart we need more loverboys in the world 😔

pro hero!Deku and superfan!reader at a meet and greet. He's amazed to get the kind of treatment All Might once got from him, to see you blushing and tripping over your words while your hands shake. Doesn't hurt that you're wearing a Deku costume shirt that stretches over your tits and that your deku green skirt barely covers your ass. "Who do I make this out to?" He lands in close to ask over the loud noise of the meet and greet, one massive hand on your waist as you try not to melt. You mumble your name and he just smirks, tilts his head and gets even closer to ask again.

Fast forward to his hotel room (he'd left the room number and a key card in your purse while he was signing your poster) he's got you in a mating press, his massive form hovering over you as he fucks you stupid. "C'mon sweet thing, let me hear it again. How you're my biggest fan right?" Can't even help the cocky grin on his lips as you try (and fail) to form words when his cock head is dragging against your spot.

"I'm, I'm-"

"I'm what? Can't even use your words, poor baby." He's mocking you even as his cock aches to fill you up seeing how all your fangirl knowledge goes out the window once he's inside you.

Next time he was gonna quiz you on trivia about him while you're warming his cock.

↯ SPIDERMAN IZUKU MIDOROYA AU

collection of any works to do with spider-man izuku au! coming soon.

notes: no “quirk” per say au (izuku’s spider powers won’t be called a quirk in this universe), izuku a vigilante, check individual warnings. listen… ik i should definitely be focusing on blood orange… LET ME COOK CHAT I SWEAR!! i literally cannot stop thinking about this so i need NEED to carry this out @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers, this au was inspired by @ffleurist and their work with spider man kaiser 🤤🤤🤤 and omg how could i forget @cherrysurf own spider man au smau series 🔥🙏😍😝 its so fire check it out NOW🕷️ = fluff 🕸️= suggestive 🎒 = angst 🧬 = smut (i doubt i’ll get to it tho ngl)

🕷️ izuku gets bitten!

Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

     Yoichi Isagi

     You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

     He looks exhausted.

     The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

     “You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

     He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

     “I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

     You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

     At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

     Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

     He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

     Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

     The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

     “You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

     “So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

     He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

     You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

     “Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

     “Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

     He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

     The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

     “God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

     “Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

     He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

     “Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

     “Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

     You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

     You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

     “You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

     You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

     Meguru Bachira

     The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

     He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

     You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

     “Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

     “I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

     “You sound proud.”

     He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

     You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

     “You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

     He pouts. “You love it.”

     You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

     The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

     “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

     “Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

     You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

     “You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

     He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

     You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

     It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

     —immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

     “Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

     You stare at him. “What.”

     “My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

     “Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

     “This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

     “Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

     He gasps. “Would you?”

     You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

     Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

     “…I regret everything.”

     “C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

     You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

     “This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

     You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

     “Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

     “Debatable.”

     “You’re still feeding me.”

     Ugh, he’s right.

     He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

     “Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

     He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

     You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

     And honestly? You don’t mind.

     Hyoma Chigiri

     You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

     He looks done.

     Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

     “You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

     He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

     You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

     Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

     You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

     Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

     You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

     His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

     “Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

     Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

     Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

     The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

     He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

     "I hate you."

     "That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

     "Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

     “Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

     His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

     Rin Itoshi

     You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

     His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

     “What?” You blink at him stupidly.

     Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

     “Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

     His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

     You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

     The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

     “Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

     Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

     You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

     You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

     His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

     You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

     “Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

     Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

     Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

     “Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

     Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

     He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

     Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

     “Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

     “You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

     “Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

     The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

     “Are you still hungry?”

     He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

     You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

     Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

     He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

     “Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

     “Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

     Seishiro Nagi

     It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

     Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

     "Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

     "Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

     “Are you okay?” You ask.

     “Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

     Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

     "Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

     He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

     "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

     "You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

     "Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

     Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

     “Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

     He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

     You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

     "Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

     You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

     "Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

     He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

     “Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

     You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

     It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

     "How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

     Reo Mikage

     The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

     His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

     He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

     The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

     "Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

     "Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

     You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

     "I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

     He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

     "I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

     "You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

     "Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

     "Yeah."

     "I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

     You blink. "Not good at what?"

     "Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

     The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

     You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

     Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

     "Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

     "I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

     Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

     "You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

     "I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

     You smile fondly. "No promises."

     Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

     Sae Itoshi

     It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

     The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

     Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

     You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

     He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

     "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

     "Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

     "Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

     The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

     "You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

     He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

     You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

     "I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

     You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

     "You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

     You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

     "Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

     "If you say so, Itoshi."

     "Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

     “S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

     But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

     "Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

     Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

     “Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

     Michael Kaiser

     You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

     “Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

     He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

     “Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

     “Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

     “How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

     “Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

     Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

     “Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

     “Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

     You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

     Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

     “I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

     "I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

     You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

     "Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

     The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

     "Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

     "Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

     "You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

     "What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

     "You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

     "As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

     "Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

     A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

     "Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.

BLUE LOCK // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works. creds for divider

itoshi rin

because you're my muse

wallet

make you mine

nodus tollens

nothing more than lovesick

supernatural

mutual support

jealousy

itoshi sae

seabird

devotion

us, again

it would have been sweet

find love

freefall

valentines

michael kaiser

five dates and a proposal

sweet nothings

stench

red

what does it mean if i can't write a love letter?

it's like i'm painting pictures the way i picture paint

pulling pigtails

yoichi isagi

say you love me

fake it 'til we make it

football for dummies

lost

wednesdays with you

skirt physics

seishiro nagi

your attention on me, please!

flight of the navigator

hell or glory, i don't want anything in between

lullaby

his favorite character

good luck charm

reo mikage

sharing secrets in the dark

your tequila lips is my idea of luxury