Latest Posts by serosluv2 - Page 2

Eepy man zzzzzz…..

drew some lezzys. and by lezzys. haha. i mean bos

You know what would be SO funny this Saturday, mid March, 2025

JJK FIC RECS! TOJI FUSHIGURO (on tumblr)

boxer toji @yujisdreamgirl

anaconda @screampied

older!toji @white-poppie

obsessed!toji @sleepdeprivedfrfr

helping toji at the gym @sttoru

stranger!toji @cyberyam

in sheep’s clothing @reignpage

you get me so high @swanlakeoverture

actors on actors @slttygeto

toji and his controversial gf @dollbrbie

toji loves playing with your 🐱 @flowerymenendez

assassin!toji @lamefish

toji and his shy gf @lymtw

bulking!toji @swytdoll

venomized @screampied

clingy!toji @tojisglazer

unnamed @midnightspasms

neighbor!toji @fatherbrat

townhouses @webism

none of these belong to me. follow for more recs! 😘

toji fushiguro ʚ ɞ his controversially young girlfriend

cw. age gap , smut mdni , oral

series masterlist 🧁

‎ ♡

olderbf!toji who works in security, usually found working as a bouncer for numerous clubs and bars, the type of bouncer that’s annoyingly strict

olderbf!toji who first met you when you was on a night out with your girls, gradually getting to know you on a more personal level when he saw you out most weekends

olderbf!toji who was always incredibly attracted to you, but he knew how much younger you was from you id and it definitely threw him off making any moves towards you

olderbf!toji who eventually asks you for your number despite how much younger you was, he’s never really dated a younger girl before but he had really grown to like you, and you were still an adult at the end of the day

olderbf!toji who then started taking you out on dates to wherever your heart desired, showing up to your door with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and buying you gifts whenever you mentioned something you liked

olderbf!toji who is so naturally and casually dominant, always leading you with his hand on your lower back, or making simple decisions for you both in day to day life, always being the one to lead where you can just simple turn your brain off

olderbf!toji who eventually asks you to be his girlfriend when taking you out of town for a few days, making the trip a perfect romantic getaway before popping the question

olderbf!toji who then fucked you with so much adoration, worshipping your body with his gentle kisses and soft touches, just admiring how beautiful you looked under him while whispering how well worth the wait was

olderbf!toji who eats you out like a starved man, his hands hooked under your things whilst he had you sat directly on his face, his tongue working pure magic on your sensitive clit causing you to grind against him, feeling his smirk under you

olderbf!toji who kinda had everyone worried besides your friends who already knew him when you introduced him as your boyfriend. he definitely had a certain look to him with his dark hair and eyes with that unbelievably sexy scar on the side of his mouth. not to mention he was over a decade older that you! it definitely wasn’t doing him any favours when trying to win over your loved ones

olderbf!toji who is fiercely protective over you, swearing to himself that he’d never let you get into harms way, willing to put his life at risk if it means keeping you safe

olderbf!toji who spoils you rotten, almost always getting you anything that you ask for when he sees those pleading eyes and a pretty smile on your glossed lips. he has a real hard time resisting you even though you drain his bank account

olderbf!toji who hates the idea of you going out with your girls now that you’re his. he knows it’s a toxic trait of his, and he’s never gonna go and stop you or try and control you, but he’ll always have something to say about it

olderbf!toji who has just turned into such a loverboy since being with you, though, you’re still explaining to him where that came from and what drake has to do with it

olderbf!toji who just loves and adores you so much, his controversially young girlfriend, and he couldn’t care less about what anyone has to say about it

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

hiii i love ur moodboard for older bf suguru could you do one for sukuna ?? love uuuuu 💘

older!bf sukuna — moodboard

older!bf sukuna who picks u up on his motorcycle, scaring away any “boy” who tries to flirt with you

older!bf sukuna who lets you stay at his penthouse whenever, emergency or not! he just likes to know that ur safe

older!bf sukuna who isn’t clingy, totally sooo not clingy, except when he’s texting you five hundred times asking you why you haven’t responded (it’s been two minutes)

older!bf sukuna who fucks the attitude right out of you ! whenever u act up he’s right there to talk about it or fuck you real good : 3

older!bf sukuna who loves you dearly and would never ever hurt u<3

older!bf suguru — moodboard

older!bf sugu who picks u up from college every day, making all your friends jealous cuz u have such a kind boyfriend

older!bf sugu who spends sm money on u its insane that he still has more. he buys you whatever you like, weather it’s food or clothes he’s buying it

older!bf sugu who eats you out for his pleasure. he only stops when your overstimulated to the max and crying

older!bf sugu who helps you with ur studies, putting time and effort into studying so you get the best grade. then when you pass the test he fucks your brains out as a reward : 3

older!bf sugu who loves you to death and would do anything for you

get a taste // tomura shigaraki

a/n: in the gc talking abt vape and cig discourse between dabi n shigs -> fujos out a bit -> wait this is kinda hot -> sick n twisted brainrot aaaahhh

you reach over and press your index finger right in between his eyebrows.

there's nearly nothing that could melt that scowl from tomura's face- especially when everyone's behind him obnoxiously crowded around the bar with playing cards and drinks in hand, the music's a bit too loud for his liking, and he's having a hard time focusing.

"tomura, i can't take you seriously with that thing attached to your mouth like a fucking binky." you call over the music, dropping your hand back into your lap.

his eyes slowly travel up from his phone screen to meet yours. you weren't even sure if he caught anything you said over the blaring music, but you could still read the irritation in his face. his gaze flickers back and forth between the clash of clans running on his phone and you.

he blinks once. twice.

tomura drops the vape from his mouth, letting it fall into his lap, and without missing a beat, blows the intoxicatingly sweet smoke into your face, engulfing you whole with a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

"better than whatever the fuck you're smoking over there, right?" he nods towards the half smoked cigarette in between your fingers that you stole from touya's pack.

"better?" you roll your eyes, waving away the lingering smoke. "grow up, tomu. you're smoking birthday cake flavored nicotine. you haven't even smoked a cigarette before."

"i don't need to smoke it to know it tastes like shit." he stretches his legs over your lap, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

you turn your hand around, facing the orange filter of the cigarette towards him. with your eyebrow slightly cocked and mouth parted into a smirk, tomura knew it was less of an invitation, but rather a dare. a challenge.

"go ahead, babe. give it a try if you're not a bitch."

tomura wets his lips with his tongue. his gaze drops down to the lipstick stained orange filter hanging from between your fingers. he wonders if he could taste your chapstick residue on it, or what your skin smells like brushed against his nose.

would you put your lips on it right after his drag? willingly taste him?

he silently cursed himself.

"pass." he scoffs, turning his head to the side, unsure if the heat crawling up his neck had taken form in a flush. 

he was halfway surprised that you hadn't noticed his piercing stare every time your lips wrapped around the cigarette for a drag. he swore the desperate look in his eyes was so obvious- a silent wish that it was him between your lips instead.

you press your lips together in a line as you take another glance around the room. everyone seemed occupied. drunk. sloppy. no one's paying attention.

you lean forward, catching his face in your free hand, and forcing him to look up towards you.

"the fuck-" he starts.

"don't freak out, tomu." you interrupt. "you know what to do."

you hum to yourself as you bring your fingers up to your lips, deeply inhaling the bitter tang of burnt tobacco.

your eyes remained locked onto tomura's. he's looking at you in a sickly satisfying horror with his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and mouth slightly gaped open from your firm grasp on his jaw.

he squirms a bit under your grasp, but tomura doesn’t look away from you- he doesn't dare to. not with you over him like this and your face only inching closer to his.

you pull yourself down over him, mere millimeters away from connecting your lips.

the smoke slowly wisp out of your mouth and into his- a slow acceptance before both of your eyes flutter shut and you empty your lungs into his. 

you feel his hands climb up the side of your thighs and rest on your hips, lightly squeezing you through the fabric of your pants.

"fuck." he mutters, trails of smoke escaping his mouth.

"yummy?" you chuckle, exhaling any remnants of smoke in your lungs.

it doesn't seem like you care or noticed at all, but all tomura could think about was you straddling him on the couch and your warm thighs hugging his torso.

he felt hot all over, his lungs were burning, there's a bitter taste in the back of his throat, his head feels light, and despite it all, he wanted more.

"do you, um, wanna taste mine?"

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0

sero hanta, my beloved...

TOKEPOSTS!! WRITE A FWB WITH THIRD YEAR! SERO X STRAIGHT A READER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!

⁀➷ EXTRA CREDIT | S. HANTA

Top of their class, but all Sero can think about is them on top of him.

next | masterlist | back

taglist: @commonmisery @nobodybutnnoorr @bun-raine @beckixwsm

apply to be on the list here!

BMF- H. Sero

Part One // Part Two

Sero’s a flirt, but he might just win you over

Notes: Barely proofread, Latino Sero, college au, quirkless au, drinking & underage drinking, weed, suggestive, sfw but implied smut, mentions of sex

see playlist here

God, he wishes things went differently.

Hanta wakes up to a dull ache in his head and empty sheets. His arm reaches out instinctively, searching for warmth, for you—but there’s nothing. Just the cool fabric beneath his fingertips. Where were you?

His eyes crack open, squinting against the early morning light seeping through the blinds and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sits up in the spare room of Denki and Jirou’s place.

He looks around, searching for any trace of you— a forgotten earring, the lingering scent of your perfume, something. But there’s nothing.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, humorless. You’re gone.

Not that he even blames you. He knows about the rumors, he knows his type, he doesn’t blame your for protecting yourself but damn, he thought maybe he’d convinced you.

He meant what he said last night. Every word.

And that’s the problem. Because at first? It was a game. He’s not gonna lie to himself about that. It doesn’t take a genius to see how attractive you were and god he wanted you. The fact that you didn’t want him only made him want you more. Every time he saw you he’d think about what he’d do if somehow he could get you into his bed. That’s what it was, that’s how it started.

He’d known you for a while, the best friend one of his best friend’s girls, mutual friend group, occasional group hangs or cyphs. Never bothering to give him more than a glance, maybe a small smile or a laugh.

He wishes things went differently because about halfway through Denki’s party, while watching you laugh with Jirou he found himself thinking what if he could hear that laugh everyday? He told himself it was the weed talking. But now? Waking up alone, sheets cold where you should be—he can’t ignore the way his chest feels hollow.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. Too proud to admit it, even to himself.

Looks like you were just another notch on his belt after all.

Even if, for the first time, he’s not sure that’s what he wanted.

He doesn’t blame you, even though it hurts. Maybe he’d be fine, maybe he’d move on—if you weren’t acting like it never happened. Like he doesn’t exist. Like you regret him.

That stings more than he’s willing to admit.

Regardless of his feelings, his ego takes a hit. He wasn’t bad… was he? He’s never doubted himself before, never needed to. So why you?

He’s honestly embarrassed about how much you cross his mind, how badly he wants your attention even if it’s just to know why? Why you’re pretending. Why you let him have you just to leave before the sun was up. For someone who was so adamant about not playing his game, you sure as hell seem to be playing it well, better than him.

He finds out where you work. Totally by accident. Denki mentions it offhandedly while they’re hanging out, and Hanta makes a mental note—just in case.

And in a totally not weird way, he starts stopping by.

Enough to figure out when you work.

Enough to know that you know he keeps coming in.

Enough to notice that every time he shows up, you disappear into the back, leaving your coworker to take his order like he’s just another customer.

Like he wasn’t in bed with you a month ago.

Like he doesn’t still feel the ghost of your touch.

And god, that shouldn’t piss him off as much as it does.

Mina has been practically on her knees begging you to come to this party for at least a week. Denki and Jirou are going too, and while that should be enough to convince you, there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you to stay home—get high, watch a movie, avoid the bullshit.

Turns out, your gut was right.

Because you do agree and when you arrive you overhear one of the stupid jocks from the baseball team talking about Hanta’s 21st birthday. You see red.

Seriously, Mina?

Her little tricks aren’t funny, and now? You definitely aren’t staying.

“C’mon, Y/N,” she whines, linking her arm through yours. “Please don’t be mad at me I swear I didn’t know!” You shoot her a glare because there’s no way that’s true but she speaks again “You can’t ignore him forever! Half our year is here—you probably won’t even see him.”

You roll your eyes, shaking her off. Yeah, sure.

You debate calling an Uber, already reaching for your phone, but one glance at the price makes you swear under your breath. This frat house is too far from your dorm, and there’s no way you’re dropping that much money just to leave.

And your only ride here?

Mina.

You exhale sharply, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Looks like you’re staying—at least until Mina is ready to leave. She grins, sensing your reluctant acceptance. “Just have fun, okay? Don’t let him ruin your night.”

You don’t dignify that with a response, just roll your eyes and push past her, weaving through the crowd toward the kitchen. If you’re going to be stuck here, you might as well get a drink.

The house is packed—bodies pressed together, music blasting, the air thick with alcohol and sweat. You find an opening at the counter, grabbing whatever’s closest to pour into your cup. You take a sip without thinking, wincing at the burn of cheap vodka.

“You okay?” You glance up to find Jirou at your side, concern flickering in her dark eyes. “Mina’s a liar.”

She snorts, not even questioning it. “Yeah, she does that.” You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m fine. Just annoyed.” Jirou doesn’t push, just clinks her drink against yours. “Then let’s fix that.”

You let her drag you back into the crowd, trying to push all thoughts of him out of your mind. It doesn’t matter that this is his party. It doesn’t matter that he’s probably somewhere in this house, surrounded by people who adore him.

You won’t see him.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But as the night goes on, as the drinks settle warm in your stomach and the bass thrums through your chest, you feel him.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe it’s the way your body is hyperaware of the possibility of him. But every time you laugh too loudly, every time you move through the crowd, every time you let yourself enjoy the party—you swear there’s a pair of eyes burning into you.

And then, when you least expect it, you turn—and there he is. Across the room, Hanta is leaned against the wall, drink in hand, watching you. He doesn’t smirk, doesn’t wave, doesn’t look away.

He just watches.

And fuck, you feel it.

Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck, but you refuse to let it show. If he wants to watch, let him. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s in your head.

So you do what you do best—you pretend he doesn’t exist.

You turn away, grab Jirou’s hand, and pull her back toward the kitchen. “Another drink?” She raises a brow but follows. “That bad?”

You don’t answer, just pour yourself another shot. Jirou sighs, taking the bottle from your hands before you can pour another. “Mina was right, y’know. You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can tonight,” you mutter, downing your drink.

Jirou doesn’t argue, just squeezes your shoulder before getting pulled away by Denki. You’re left alone in the kitchen, hands braced against the counter, trying to steady yourself.

But then you feel it again. That pull. That weight of someone’s gaze pressing into you. You don’t want to look. You shouldn’t look.

But you do.

And he’s there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with that same unreadable expression. You swallow, pulse thrumming in your ears.

It’s stupid, so stupid, but your feet move before your brain can catch up. You brush past him, heading toward the back porch for air.

You don’t check to see if he follows. You don’t have to. Because you know he will.

The night air is a relief, crisp against your heated skin. You take a slow breath, gripping the wooden railing of the porch, steadying yourself. You shouldn’t have come. You knew this was a bad idea.

But before you can convince yourself to leave, you hear the door creak open behind you.

You don’t turn. You don’t move. You just stare out into the dark, listening to the sound of footsteps approaching.

Then, his voice—low, smooth, and way too damn close. “Enjoying the party?”

You looks at him, and pretend you dont feel your pulse pick up. “Yeah. You?” You mumble out, trying to seem nonchalant. He hums, tilting his head. “Would be better if my friends actually said happy birthday.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. We’re hardly friends, plus you’ve been surrounded all night, plenty of pretty girls and guys wishing you a happy 21st”

“Yeah?” He takes a step closer. “And yet, the only person I wanted to hear it from hasn’t said shit.”

Now youre really feeling the heat. He’s looking at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Like he’s daring you to keep pretending like nothing happened. And you try to brush past him, but he catches your wrist—gently, but firm enough to make you stop.

“C’mon, ma,” he murmurs, voice all smooth and teasing but laced with something else, something real. “I know you didn’t just come here for the drinks. You really gonna keep pretending?”

Your throat goes dry, and you hate the way your body reacts to him—like it remembers too much, like it wants more.

You force a laugh, rolling your eyes as you tug your wrist from his grasp. “I came because Mina begged me to. That’s it. Didn’t even know this was your party ‘til I got here.”

Hanta doesn’t let up, stepping in just enough that you catch the scent of his cologne, the faintest hint of liquor on his breath. “Sure. So it’s just a coincidence that you’re out here alone, looking like you’ve got something on your mind?”

You narrow your eyes. “You think everything’s about you, don’t you?” He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah. Just this.”

You hate the way your stomach twists, because he’s right, it is about him. You hate the way he makes it so damn hard to act indifferent.

But you refuse to give him what he wants.

So you smirk, tilting your head. “Happy birthday, Sero,” you say, voice dripping with false sweetness before turning on your heel and walking back inside.

He doesn’t stop you this time, but you feel his gaze burning into your back the whole way.

The night drags on, the party buzzing around you, but your focus is shot. You’re trying—really trying—to act like everything is fine, like Hanta isn’t watching you from across the room, like your skin doesn’t still burn from the way he grabbed your wrist.

It’s just the alcohol. That’s what you tell yourself as you down another drink, as you let Mina spin you onto the dance floor again. The music pulses, bodies move, and for a little while, you manage to lose yourself in it.

But of course, it doesn’t last.

Because suddenly, he’s there again, standing way too close, just like before.

“Didn’t know you were such a sore loser,” he muses, voice low against your ear. You turn, brow furrowing. “What?”

“You left before the game was over.” He smirks, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t even give me a chance to win.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t that mean I won?”

“Yeah? Was it about winning?” He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Or maybe you’re just scared.”

It’s bait. You know it is. But you’re just drunk enough, just irritated enough, to take it. “Scared of what?” you challenge, stepping closer.

His smirk deepens, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “Me.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but before you can fire back, he leans in, voice dropping even lower.

“You talk a big game, but we both know you weren’t just curious that night,” he murmurs, lips barely brushing your ear. “And I don’t think you regret it as much as you pretend to.”

“I was drunk and curious. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking it was more than that.” You shoot back, your tone cold and part of you feels a little bad, it’s his birthday. But he’s being a dick on purpose

Hanta pulls back just enough to look at you, a wicked grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “Right. Drunk and curious. That’s all it was,” he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and it’s working.

You feel the heat rise in your chest again, irritation mixing with something else. “Yeah, that’s what I said.” You cross your arms, trying to regain control of the situation. But the way he’s looking at you, with that damn smirk still playing on his lips, makes it harder to keep up the act.

“Fine, if that’s how you wanna play it,” he says, as if he’s decided to back off, but his eyes tell a different story. You hate that he’s right. You’re not as indifferent to him as you want to be, and every word he says seems to chip away at the wall you’ve been trying to build up. The alcohol in your system isn’t helping either—it’s making everything feel a little too raw, a little too real.

“Stop trying to act like you know me, Hanta. You don’t.”

“Is that so?” His eyes darken, and he takes another step closer. “You’re still playing games, huh? Pretending like you don’t care, pretending like I don’t know exactly how you felt that night.”

The distance between you feels like a vacuum, pulling you in, making it impossible to just walk away. He knows he’s getting to you, and you hate how easily he’s doing it.

“I don’t owe you anything, Sero,” you snap, your voice wavering slightly. “I’m not here to play into whatever head game you’re trying to start. Don’t be a dick, maybe I bruised your fucking ego since I didn’t crawl back begging you to fuck me again, but don’t act like you know me”

He doesn’t flinch at your words, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. Something—maybe guilt, maybe frustration. Maybe both. But he doesn’t back down. Instead, his lips curl into a smirk that feels sharper than before.

“Bruised my ego?” He laughs, a sound that’s both mocking and amused. “Is that what you think this is about?”

Your chest tightens, heart pounding, and you realize it’s not about that at all. It’s not about his ego. It’s something else entirely.

“No,” you say, voice softer than you want it to be. “It’s about you pretending I’m just another girl you can mess with. Like I’m a game you can win, and you hate that I’m not playing by your rules.”

His eyes narrow, dark and intense, locking onto you and he pulls you into an area of the house with less foot traffic. “And you think I’m playing games with you?” His voice drops, low and steady. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life than I am right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You want to argue, to tell him he’s full of shit, but you’re not sure anymore. Not when he’s standing there, looking at you like that, like he’s waiting for you to see something you’ve been too proud to admit.

“I didn’t want you to leave that night,” he says quietly, his tone steady but raw. “I wanted you to stay. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but that’s the truth.”

You freeze. His words slam into you, unexpected and sharp. Everything in you wants to push back, to tell him it was just one night, that it doesn’t mean anything—but you can’t. The raw honesty in his tone pulls at something inside you, and you hate yourself for it.

Before you can respond, he steps closer, the space between you two almost nonexistent now, and you’re forced to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Stop pretending like you don’t feel it too,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, but it feels like a punch to the gut. “This thing between us… it’s real, Y/N. You know it, and I know it. So don’t act like it doesn’t matter.”

You swallow hard, your mind spinning, your heart racing. For a moment, you almost want to believe him, almost want to give in. But you shake your head, breaking eye contact, and step back.

“I’m not doing this with you, Hanta,” you mutter, voice hoarse. “I’m not playing your game. I’m done.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, away from him, away from whatever this is—away from whatever he wants it to be. Your heart still pounds in your chest, but you refuse to let him see it. You refuse to let him win.

You find Mina in the crowd, her laugh cutting through the noise. She’s talking to some of the other people you don’t care to know, but the look on your face is enough for her to notice something’s off.

You grab her arm, tugging her out of the conversation before she can protest. “Mina, we need to go. Now.”

She looks at you, concerned, but after seeing the desperation and something else in your eyes, she nods. “Yeah, okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Mina had only had a drink a few hours ago and is mostly sober by now. She doesn’t argue, just grabs her purse and follows you outside, guiding you to her car. The drive back to your place is quiet, the tension in the air thick and uncomfortable. Mina keeps glancing at you, but you don’t have the energy to explain, not now.

When you finally get home, she pulls into the parking lot and turns to you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nod, though you’re not so sure yourself. “Yeah. Just… needed to get out of there.”

Mina gives you a small smile and ruffles your hair. “Alright, I’ll check on you later, yeah? Call me if you need anything.”

You thank her, and as she drives off, you sit in the quiet of your room, the night replaying over and over in your mind. The words Sero said, the way he looked at you, how close you’d almost gotten to letting it all slip.

But no. You couldn’t. You’d already made up your mind.

To say you had feelings for him… would be an exaggeration. You don’t even like him that much. You just think he’s attractive—hell, he is attractive. He’s charming in that annoying, cocky way. You can’t deny the way he makes you feel, though, the way his gaze seems to zero in on you like you’re the only person in the room. And then there’s his humor, that effortless way he makes you laugh, even when you want to hate him.

But then there’s the arrogance, the way he thinks everyone wants him, and the fact that he knows how to get under your skin—how easily he can make you second-guess everything.

Fuck.

The more you think about it, the more complicated this all feels. You didn’t want to care, and yet, here you are—alone in your room, questioning everything. Why’d you let him get to you? Why’d you let him even try?

The night you spent together? It doesn’t mean anything. It was a moment of weakness. You were drunk, curious, and he was there. That’s all. There’s no deeper connection, no real chemistry.

He’s just trying to play you.

And you’re not stupid enough to fall for it again. He’s not going to have that power over you. You won’t let him. It was a mistake, and you won’t let him turn it into something more, no matter how many times he smirks at you like he knows something you don’t. You won’t fall for it again.

You don’t sleep at all that night—just tossing, turning, and staring at the same glow-in-the-dark stars you’ve had on your ceiling since you were a kid. By morning, exhaustion weighs heavy on you, but it’s nothing compared to the pit in your stomach. You call out of work, guilt gnawing at you, but you know you can’t fake a smile and play barista today. Not after last night.

Meanwhile, Sero shows up at the café, greeted by a line nearly out the door. He waits, jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets, and when he finally gets to the front, your coworker, Tsuyu, barely glances up before deadpanning—

“Ah, if it isn’t Y/N’s stalker. What do you want?”

His eye twitches, but he lets it slide. “Tell her to come out of her hiding spot. We need to talk.”

“She’s not here.”

“I’m serious, Tsu. I’m done with this childish shit—she can come out and talk to me like an adult.”

Tsuyu finally looks at him then, unimpressed. “And I’m serious. She’s not here. Why do you think we’re this swamped?” She nods toward the overwhelming crowd before fixing him with a blank stare. “So either order something or go, dude. I don’t have time to waste on you.”

Sero exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what he expected. Of course you’d duck out of work today. You’re avoiding him—again.

“Fine,” he mutters, glancing at the menu board even though he’s been here enough times to know exactly what he wants. “Iced caramel macchiato.”

Tsuyu hums, punching it in. “That all, stalker?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah.”

She takes his cash, hands him his change, then leans on the counter. “She doesn’t wanna talk to you,” Tsuyu says simply, then passing his drink ticket to the other barista. “Maybe take the hint.”

Sero clenches his jaw, but doesn’t respond. What’s he supposed to say? That you’re wrong? That he knows you’re avoiding him, not because you don’t care, but because you do? That he can still feel the way you looked at him last night, the way your breath hitched when he got too close?

Instead, he just takes his drink, mutters a “thanks,” and walks out. Sero exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he steps away from the café. He pulls out his phone, scrolling to Instagram. He doesn’t have you on there, but Mina does. And Mina posts everything.

It doesn’t take long to find what he’s looking for—a tagged picture from last week. You, Denki, Jirou, and Mina on someone’s apartment floor, a movie paused on the TV behind you. His eyes flick to the caption. Girl’s night (plus Denki)

And there it is. The location tag.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips.

He knows it’s a long shot—maybe you don’t even live there, maybe it was just a hangout spot—but at this point, he’s not above testing his luck.

So he pockets his phone, hails an Uber, and heads straight to the campus apartment complex. Sero leans against the entrance of the apartment building, hands in his pockets as he waits for someone to walk in or out. He’s not about to creep around and start pressing random buzzers—he’s got some dignity left—but he’s also not leaving without at least trying.

He’s been here for maybe ten minutes when his opportunity presents itself—a couple of students push through the door, laughing about something, and he slips inside before it swings shut.

Now comes the tricky part.

He scans the mailboxes in the lobby, looking for a familiar last name. He doesn’t even know if you live here, but it’s the best lead he’s got. His fingers drum against his thigh as he reads through them, debating whether or not he should just text Mina and ask outright.

Then, before he can decide, a voice cuts through his thoughts.

“…Sero?”

He turns, and there you are—standing just a few feet away, holding a bag of takeout, looking at him like you can’t believe he’s actually here.

His stomach tightens. Shit.

“Oh, this is a new low,” you say, shaking your head. “You’re weird as fuck for this, bro.” You let out a dry chuckle, but there’s nothing funny about it.

You’re exhausted—running on barely any sleep and way too much caffeine, and now he’s here, standing in your building’s lobby like he has any right to be. You feel like shit, and the last thing you need is him making it worse.

Sero doesn’t look fazed. If anything, he looks determined, which pisses you off even more.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just talk to me,” he says, shifting his weight against the wall.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you snap, pushing past him toward the stairs. “You’re not my boyfriend, you’re not even my friend, so why the fuck are you here?”

He follows, not letting you shut him out so easily. “You can pretend all you want, but I know that night meant something to you.”

You whirl around, eyes blazing. “You don’t know me, Hanta.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “Then let me.”

You scoff, turning back toward the stairs. “Go home, Sero.”

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to figure out what it’ll take to break through.

And the worst part?

You don’t know if you want him to stop trying. The way he won’t back off makes something stir in your chest, a complicated mess of frustration and… maybe something else. But you won’t let yourself admit it. You can’t.

His persistence is both annoying and oddly… endearing. You can’t remember the last time anyone pushed like this. You can’t tell if it’s his arrogance, his confidence, or the way his eyes never leave yours, but something makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not ready to face.

“Why don’t you just leave it alone?” you say, your voice tighter than you intended. It’s a question that makes you sound more tired than angry.

He shakes his head. “You think I’m just gonna walk away?” His voice is low, almost amused. “You’re the only one who’s been avoiding this.”

“Maybe I want to avoid it,” you snap, but even you can tell it lacks the sting it should.

Sero’s smile fades, replaced by something a little less playful, something more serious that you can’t quite place. He steps a little closer, and for a moment, you wonder if you might actually let him. But you don’t, you can’t.

“You’re scared, Y/N.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Scared of what?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Scared of what this means. Scared of what I mean to you.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, settling in your chest like a stone. Your pulse picks up, but you refuse to let him see it. “I don’t owe you anything,” you say, but it sounds more like a question than a statement.

Sero tilts his head, studying you with that unreadable gaze. “Fine,” he says quietly. “But don’t lie to yourself, Y/N. You’re not walking away from this because you don’t care. You’re walking away because you’re afraid of what might happen if you do care.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Not with the way your breath catches in your throat, not with the way he makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

So you do what you do best: you turn away and walk up the stairs without looking back. But his eyes stay with you, heavy and unyielding, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s right. Actually.. you know he is.

God, you wanted him to be wrong. You wanted to believe that all of this—whatever this was—was nothing. Just drunken curiosity, a one-time mistake, something you could shake off and forget. But the truth is, you can’t.

Deep down, you know he wasn’t wrong. And that makes it worse. Because now, all the walls you’ve built up are crumbling and you don’t know how to stop them.

You don’t regret it—not really. But you don’t want to admit what it meant, what he meant. You’ve seen the way he plays with people, how easily he moves on, and you’ve never been that person.

Sero? He doesn’t give a shit about your heart. And that’s what scares you. You can’t afford to get hurt again. But somehow, despite every warning, despite all the reasons you know you should stay away, a part of you wants to believe that he’s different.

But you’re not stupid. You’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way his confidence comes with a price. He doesn’t play fair. And the last thing you want is to let yourself fall for someone who only knows how to break hearts.

You close your eyes, squeezing your fists into the sheets as if that’ll stop your thoughts from racing. You didn’t want any of this. But now that it’s here, you’re not sure how to get out of it.

A while later there’s a knock at the door with a sense of urgency followed by the sounds of a key fumbling in the lock. You know it’s either Mina or Jirou, knowing they’re the only two who know where you keep the spare.

They both enter, concerned etched on their faces when they find you sunken into the comforter in your bedroom.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you called out of work because you’re sick. You’re gonna miss my birthday this weekend!” You groan, dragging yourself to sit up in the bed to face them

Mina and Jirou are standing there, Mina looking dramatically appalled while Jirou eyes you with suspicion.

“You did skip work,” Jirou states flatly. You sigh, stepping aside to let them in. “It’s not a big deal.”

Mina flops onto your bed, kicking her feet up. “Uh, it is a big deal. You never miss work! And more importantly, are you really gonna bail on my birthday?”

“Mi, I literally never said that” you say back, deadpanned but there’s a hint of laughter in your voice. You take a deep breath before speaking again

She narrows her eyes but lets it go as you rub your temples, exhaling slowly. “I just—yesterday was… a lot.”

Jirou raises a brow. “This have anything to do with a certain soccer player?” You shoot her a glare, and Mina gasps, sitting up. “Wait. Did something happen with Sero?”

You hesitate, then shake your head. “Nothing worth talking about.”

Jirou hums giving you a knowing look, but Mina is already moving on. “Well, whatever it is, you’re still coming out this weekend. We’re going clubbing for my 21st, and you have to be there. I need all my bad bitches with me, no excuses”

You hesitate for a second. There’s a 50/50 chance Sero might be there. But it’s Mina’s birthday, and you refuse to let him dictate where you go. “Of course, I’m in.”

Mina cheers, and Jirou smirks. “Good. Because you need a night out!”

The pregame is already in full swing. You’re packed into Mina’s apartment with the other girls, music blasting as you all do your makeup, sip on drinks, and hype each other up.

Honestly? It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while. Your mind is completely clear, surrounded by girls you love—who love you back even harder.

The night is young, and the shots are flowing. You’re all playing some ridiculous drinking game involving a spinning wheel, desperately trying not to get too messed up before you even make it to the club.

Even Momo—who’s always the designated driver—has been convinced to let loose for the night, opting to split an Uber there and back.

Mina throws her arm around you, grinning as she holds up another shot. “To being young and hot!”

You clink glasses, throwing the drink back as the night truly begins.

The club is already alive with flashing lights and pulsing bass by the time you arrive. The moment you step inside, you spot them—Denki, Eijirou, and Katsuki posted up in a booth near the bar, drinks in hand. They’re not alone either; there are plenty of familiar faces from campus scattered around, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Mina knows everyone. She’s practically a campus celebrity.

You and the girls are already buzzing from the pregame, giggling as you rush toward the boys in a flurry of excited hugs and playful touches that are definitely more handsy than usual. The alcohol is working its magic, making everything feel lighter, brighter, easier.

But the booth isn’t where you’re staying. Not tonight.

Mina grabs your wrist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “C’mon, babe. We didn’t come here to sit.”

You laugh as she drags you away, the others following close behind. The dance floor is packed, bodies moving in sync with the heavy beat, the air thick with heat and the scent of liquor.

There’s nothing PG about the way your body moves against Mina’s, against Ochaco’s—even Momo’s caught up in it, her usual poise slipping away under the influence of alcohol and flashing lights. The bass thrums through your veins, your body buzzing with warmth, laughter spilling from your lips as you let yourself get lost in the moment.

A little alcohol turns you into the life of the party, and right now, everyone looks good. The air is thick with energy, heat, and the scent of sweat and expensive perfume. Hands grasp your waist, your fingers trail over familiar arms, hips press together in time with the music. It’s effortless, intoxicating.

But You’re not a kiss-your-friends kind of drunk—not yet, anyway.

It’s almost like the universe doesn’t want you to have fun, because when you and Jirou wander to the bar for refills you see him

Sero.

And he’s not alone.

Some ridiculously pretty girl is all over him, leaning close, whispering in his ear, hands trailing over his arms. And worst of all? He’s letting her.

Your stomach twists. It’s stupid. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care. But something about the sight of him smirking at her, hands resting lazily on her waist, makes your blood boil.

Whatever. You sip your drink but your eyes keep flickering over to him.

Fine. Two can play that game.

You scan the room, eyes landing on someone tall, broad-shouldered, and familiar—

Bakugo.

It’s petty, but right now? You don’t care. You’d felt his eyes on you for most the night and it’s just dancing

He turns, looking surprised for a split second before his gaze flicks over you. “What?”

You smile, leaning in just enough to make it look intentional. “Dance with me.”

He raises a brow, following your eyes toward the bar where Sero’s standing. Then he smirks, shaking his head but setting his drink down. “Whatever.”

There’s nothing more to it for him—just curiosity, mild amusement. Maybe he just likes the way you move, the confidence in your stance, the way you don’t hesitate when you reach for him.

And you? You like the way he looks. That’s it. You’re not interested, not curious, and certainly not trying to make anyone jealous. It’s just dancing, harmless and fleeting, nothing but the pulse of the music and the heat of too much alcohol making you reckless.

It’s all in good, drunken fun

Katsuki doesn’t hesitate when you pull him in, his hands finding your waist with the same sharp confidence he carries everywhere. The bass thrums beneath your feet, the energy in the club electric, and you let yourself sink into the moment—swaying, moving, pressing against him like you don’t have a single care in the world.

Except you do care.

Because when you risk another glance toward the bar, Sero is watching.

His jaw is set, drink forgotten in his hand, his attention no longer on the girl beside him, and she’s desperately trying to get it back. His dark eyes flicker between you and Katsuki, his lips pressing into a thin line before he lets out a dry laugh and turns back to his conversation.

But you see it.

The tightness in his grip around his glass, the way his shoulders roll like he’s trying to shake something off. The way he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

Katsuki catches the exchange, his grip tightening slightly at your waist as he leans in, voice low against your ear “This supposed to mean something?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Relax, Bakugo. It’s just dancing.”

He huffs out a laugh, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “Yeah? Then why’s he looking at you like he wants to rip my head off?”

You don’t answer.

Because you don’t know. Or maybe you do, but you’re not ready to face it. Not yet.

So you double down, sliding your hands up Katsuki’s arms, tilting your head back with a smirk like you don’t notice Sero’s stare burning into your skin. You don’t miss the way he downs the rest of his drink in one go, slamming the glass onto the bar before disappearing into the crowd.

And for some reason, that makes your stomach twist.

You try to shake it off, pushing the unease deep into the back of your mind, focusing on the beat of the music, the rush of adrenaline, and the way Katsuki moves with you. The alcohol buzzes in your veins, loosening you, making you bold. It’s easier to laugh, easier to sway against him, but it’s harder to ignore the part of you that’s suddenly aware of everything—of Sero’s absence in the room, of the weight of his stare when it was there, of how much more complicated everything has become.

For a while, you lose yourself in the dance, in the laughter, in the flashing lights. The night stretches on, but your mind keeps returning to him. To Sero.

It isn’t until much later, that you finally spot him again. Sero’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching you from across the room. He’s with the same girl from earlier, but there’s something different now. He’s not laughing, not joking with her. He’s just… standing there, his jaw tight, eyes locked on you.

What is he trying to do?

You walk over to the bar, find someone—anyone—to flirt with. A guy you had class with last semester, tall and broad with a lazy grin. It’s harmless. You’re just trying to get under his skin, prove to yourself that you’re not the one chasing.

Sero’s eyes follow you the entire time. You can feel the weight of it, feel the way he watches you, his posture stiffening when you laugh at something the guy says. You don’t miss the flash of frustration in his eyes.

And for a moment, it feels… empowering

But that’s when he moves.

You don’t even see him coming until his hand is on your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd.

“Sero,” you hiss, but his grip is firm, determined, and before you know it, you’re being dragged through the sea of bodies to a quieter hallway near the back of the club.

His breathing is heavier now, but his voice is low and sharp. “You think this is a game?”

You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let go. His grip only tightens, dragging you into the bathroom.

The door slams shut behind you, and suddenly, the space is too small. Too close. Too charged.

“What the hell, Sero?”

He doesn’t answer, just steps forward, his hands on your arms, pushing you back against the sink. His body is just inches from yours, his presence suffocating in the best—and worst—ways.

“You think you can just mess around like this, huh?” His voice is hoarse, the frustration bleeding into every word. “You want me to play the game? Fine. But don’t you dare act like you don’t know what’s going on here.”

You swallow, the tension thick between you both. Your heart pounds, the rush of alcohol and adrenaline clouding your thoughts.

His breath fans across your face, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. “You think I don’t know you’re jealous?” he mutters, stepping closer. “You think I haven’t seen the way you look at me when I’m with someone else?”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat.

Because he’s right. And that scares you.

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the closeness. His thumb brushes against your cheek, eyes locked with yours.

“I’m done playing,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m done pretending I don’t feel this—this—for you.”

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours, his kiss urgent, desperate. You freeze for a split second, but the moment you give in, you’re lost.

It’s messy. It’s raw. It’s everything you’ve been trying to avoid—and everything you’ve been craving.

His hands are all over you, his touch rough and possessive and everything in your mind is telling you you might regret it, but you know it’s everything you wanted, it’s why you played the game. “Tell me to stop and I will” he says, just above a whisper as his lips ghost over your neck. You’re silent.

when you finally pull away, gasping for air, there’s nothing left to say.

You just stare at each other, the words unsaid hanging heavy in the space between you. The chemistry, the pull, it’s undeniable. And now, it’s out in the open.

You force yourself to stand still for a moment, trying to steady your breath, the pulse of adrenaline still rushing through you. His touch lingers on your skin, almost burning, as if he’s marked you. His gaze stays on you, intense, unreadable—but he doesn’t say a word. Neither do you.

You glance into the bathroom mirror, trying to adjust yourself. Your clothes are a little out of place, hair messy, and you quickly smooth it out, hoping to cover up the heat of what just happened. The spray of perfume is the final touch, masking the smell of sex, the smell of him.

You step out, not sparing a glance back. You can’t. The tension in that room was too much, too overwhelming. It doesn’t feel real yet, like you’re still processing what happened.

The noise of the club greets you again. The familiar lights flash, the music booms, and the laughter of your friends blends with the thumping beats. You slip back into the crowd, moving with ease as if nothing at all has changed. As if everything’s normal.

But it’s not. Not anymore.

You dance again, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm, in the camaraderie of your friends who are still laughing and celebrating. You pretend you haven’t just crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed. You pretend you’re not thinking about Sero, about what just happened, about what it means.

But the feeling of his lips on yours, the weight of his touch—it doesn’t fade. Not even a little.

Minutes pass, hours maybe, but you’re too caught up in the motion, too caught up in pretending. You try to forget the heat between you two, the way he kissed you.. the way he touched you like it meant something—like it had always meant something.

And then you notice he’s gone. Sero left.

You can’t explain why, but a part of you feels this pang of regret, mixed with a strange relief. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s easier if he just disappears for the night, for now.

The crowd around you blurs again, and you keep dancing, but now, your movements feel heavier. You can’t shake the weight of what you did.

You don’t know how much time passes before you finally step off the dance floor, breathless and buzzing with the aftermath of the night. Your body is tired, your mind exhausted, and yet, despite everything, you don’t feel any closer to figuring out what the hell just happened between you and Sero.

You make your way back over to the booth, plopping your body down onto the plush leather when you feel Mina throw her arms around your neck. “There you are! Thought you got lost or something,” she teases, her words slightly slurred from the drinks.

You laugh, though it feels a little forced. “Just needed some air.” Jirou raises a brow at you, something knowing in her gaze. “Uh-huh. Air.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing one of the leftover drinks on the table. You don’t bother asking who it belonged to—you just need something, anything, to push away the lingering heat under your skin.

But it doesn’t work, as much as you try to throw yourself back into the celebration, the drinks, the laughter your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to him. To the way his hands felt on you. To the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally breaking, finally letting himself feel something he’d been fighting this whole time.

And then he left.

You force yourself to focus back on Mina, who’s dramatically recounting some story about how she almost wiped out in her heels but “recovered like a bad bitch.” You laugh along with the others, but Jirou still eyes you, skeptical.

“You sure you’re good?” she asks quietly, leaning in so only you can hear. You hesitate. “Yeah,” you lie. She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push.

Mina drags you back for your final dances of the night muttering something about “not catching any ass tonight” and apparently that simply would not do.

The night goes on, the music shifts, people come and go, and eventually, the exhaustion starts creeping in. One by one, your friends start gathering their things, calling for Ubers, and making plans to crash at someone’s place. You could go with them. You should go with them.

But instead, you find yourself stepping outside, breathing in the crisp night air. And that’s when you see him.

Sero, leaning against the wall just outside the club, joint between his lips, his expression unreadable.

Your heart stutters, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you walk over.

He notices you immediately, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before speaking. “Took you long enough,” he mutters, like he was waiting for you.

You cross your arms. “What are you still doing here?”

He shrugs, flicking the cigarette away. “Dunno.” His eyes meet yours, dark and searching. “Maybe I was hoping you’d come find me.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate the way he gets to you. The way he’s always gotten to you. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to that. So you don’t say anything at all.

And for a long moment, neither does he.

The tension stretches between you, thick and heavy, and you know—you know—that whatever this thing is between you two, it’s only getting harder to ignore.

You shift on your feet, arms still crossed like they can shield you from the weight of his gaze. “And if I didn’t?” you ask, voice quieter than you intended.

Sero huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Then I probably would’ve left. Probably should’ve left, anyway.”

But he wouldn’t, you both know that because here he still stands.

The streetlights cast shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow. He looks tired. Frustrated. Maybe even a little conflicted. And it hits you all at once—he’s just as lost in this as you are.

That should make it easier. It should make it simpler. But it doesn’t.

“You’re so fucking frustrating,” you mutter, shaking your head. That makes him grin, that same cocky, easygoing smirk you’ve seen a million times before. Except now, it feels different. Like a defense. Like he’s holding something back.

“Right back at you, babe.” Your breath catches. He doesn’t usually call you that—not like this, not when it feels real.

You hate the way it makes your stomach flip.

He pushes off the wall, stepping closer, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you crackles. Like the pull you’ve both been trying to fight is getting harder to ignore. You could walk away. You should walk away.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. “What do you want from me, Hanta?”

His expression shifts—just slightly, but enough. Enough for you to see the crack in his facade, the flicker of something real.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice low. “But I know I don’t wanna keep pretending like this is nothing.”

Your heart pounds. Because neither do you.

But saying it out loud makes it real. And real means messy. Real means getting hurt.

And yet, standing here, staring at him, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours, you wonder if maybe it’s already too late to stop it. It definitely is..

Your pulse is in your ears, drowning out the sounds of the city around you. You’re standing too close, and you know if you don’t step back now, you won’t.

Sero’s eyes search yours, his usual smirk long gone, replaced by something else—something almost hesitant.

You swallow hard. “Then what are we doing?”

He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Hell if I know.”

And you hate that. You hate how uncertain he sounds because if he doesn’t have an answer, then what the hell are you supposed to do?

Your fingers tighten around your arms, nails pressing into your skin. “You’re the one who pulled me into that bathroom, Hanta,” you remind him, trying to sound sharp, but it comes out softer than you want. “You’re the one who—”

He steps closer, close enough that you can smell the lingering scent of his cologne, the faint traces of weed and alcohol on his breath.

“I know,” he cuts in, voice firm. His jaw tenses, and then he shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “I know,” he says again, quieter this time.

You watch him carefully, waiting. And then—

“I can’t do this shit anymore.” Your stomach drops. “What?”

Sero runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. “This back and forth, the bullshit games, acting like I don’t—” He stops short, biting down on whatever words almost slipped.

Your breath catches.

Acting like I don’t what?

He doesn’t finish. He just looks at you, waiting. Like it’s your move now. Like he’s finally putting the ball in your court. And you hate that, too. Because you don’t know what to do with it.

You lick your lips, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “So what, you’re just done?” His brows furrow slightly, and for a second, you swear he looks almost pained. “If that’s what you want.”

Your throat tightens. Because that’s not what you want. That’s never been what you wanted.

But this is a game you started, and now, you don’t know how to end it. No matter what happens it doesn’t feel like you’re winning

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s not—” You pause, exhaling sharply. “That’s not fair.”

Sero lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Not fair?” He scoffs, eyes flicking to yours, dark and unreadable. “You think this has been fair?”

You blink, taken aback by the sharpness in his voice.

“I’ve been chasing after you for weeks,” he continues, and his tone isn’t angry, but it’s frustrated, like he’s finally letting himself say all the things he’s been holding back. “I’ve let you shut me down, push me away, play this game like it doesn’t mean shit to you, like I don’t mean shit to you and I took it, because I—”

He stops himself again, jaw clenching, hands flexing at his sides. Your heart is hammering.

Because I what?

You don’t realize you’ve stepped closer until you’re right in front of him, close enough that the warmth of his body nearly touches yours. “Then why didn’t you stop?” you ask quietly, searching his face.

His expression flickers—something breaking through the frustration, something more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen from him before.

“I tried,” he admits, voice rough, tired. “I swear I tried.”

Maybe this is the part where you walk away, where you let him go and finally put an end to whatever this has been. But you can’t.

Because it’s not enough. Not for you.

Not when your body still feels the ghost of his hands on your skin. Not when his words linger in your chest, curling around something you’re not ready to name.

You swallow hard, pulse racing. “So… what now?”

Sero watches you for a long moment, eyes flicking between yours, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he exhales, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t know,” he says, voice softer now, almost resigned. “But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t—”

Again, he stops himself. Again, you feel it—something unspoken, something heavy, pressing between you. This time, you don’t let it go.

“Hanta.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He meets your gaze, something wary in his eyes.You take a breath, forcing yourself to be brave. Your eyes meet his in an unwavering gaze. “Say it”

His jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he won’t. That he’ll brush it off, make some flippant joke, or worse—walk away entirely. But then, with a sharp exhale, he mutters, “I like you.”

It’s quiet, almost lost beneath the thrum of music from the club outside, but you hear it. Feel it. The weight of those words settling into your chest like a punch and a relief all at once.

You swallow, your throat dry. “You like me?” you repeat, your voice testing the words, as if trying to see if they hold any truth.

Sero huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah, genius. I like you.” His eyes flicker between yours, searching, pleading. “Probably way more than I should.”

Your breath catches. Because you know what he means. Because this—whatever it is—was never supposed to be more than a mistake, a game, a push and pull that never led anywhere real. And yet, here you are.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s you, maybe it’s him, but suddenly the space between you disappears, and his lips are on yours, desperate, certain. It’s not like before—it’s not fueled by frustration or jealousy or reckless abandon. It’s raw, it’s real, and it terrifies you.

You pull away just enough to breathe, your forehead resting against his. “This is a bad idea,” you whisper.

Sero’s lips curve into a smirk, but his eyes are serious when he says, “Yeah. But when have we ever been good at walking away?”

You don’t have an answer for that. Because he’s right. You never walk away—not really. You tell yourself you will, you pretend it’s just for fun, but somehow you always end up right back here.

Your fingers tighten in his shirt, forehead still pressed against his, something intimate about the way his hands hold your waist. “So what now?”

Sero exhales through his nose, like he’s been asking himself the same question. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know I don’t wanna keep playing this game if it means losing you completely.” You bite your lip, heart hammering. “You were never gonna lose me.”

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. “Then stop running.”

You swallow hard, your body screaming at you to give in, to let go of whatever’s been keeping you from fully leaning into this, into him. But it’s terrifying—because what if you fall? What if it ends in disaster?

Sero seems to sense your hesitation. He sighs, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “You don’t have to have an answer right now,” he says, softer than you expected. “Just… think about it.”

And with that, he steps back, hands slipping from your body, his warmth leaving you cold.

You should say something—should stop him, should tell him you already know the answer. But the words get caught in your throat, and before you can make sense of it, he’s gone.

Jirou finds you outside, sitting on the filthy sidewalk with your knees to your chest, looking out on the city lights. She has half a mind to scold you for being out here so late alone until she sees your expression.

“There you are,” she says, stepping up beside you. “We’re heading out. Mina’s been looking for you.” You exhale slowly, keeping your gaze forward. “Needed some air.”

Jirou doesn’t buy it, but she doesn’t push—at least not right away. She just stands there, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, waiting. After a moment, she sighs. “Sero left.”

Your stomach tightens. Jirou studies you for a beat, then speaks again, voice quieter now. “You good?”

You swallow, nodding once. “Yeah.” It’s not a lie, not really. You just don’t know what else to say.

Jirou doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, she jerks her head toward the street, where the others are waiting for your ride. “Come on. Let’s go before Mina starts a manhunt.”

You manage a small smirk, shaking off whatever lingers in your chest as you push off the wall. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The uber ride home is full of drunken laughter and requests for Taco Bell, you find yourself packed into the small fast food chain, the only one nearby open past two. You haven’t eaten for hours but have no interest in the food in front of you.

The other girls laugh and chat around you but you sit there in silence, thoughts scattered about. It seems like nobody notices but Jirou, who clamps her hand around yours

Her grip is steady, grounding you in the midst of the chaos. You glance over at her, and she gives you a small, understanding smile. There’s a quiet strength in the way she holds your hand, as if she doesn’t need to ask what happened but just wants to remind you that you’re not alone in this.

“Hey,” she murmurs, leaning closer so the others won’t overhear, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m here if you need to.”

You nod, not trusting your voice just yet. The confusion and frustration from earlier still linger in your chest, but Jirou’s presence, calm and steady, helps. She doesn’t push, just sits there with you, allowing you space to breathe.

You know this is a decision you have to make alone, but there’s too much weight on your chest to say nothing. You tilt your head, a silent gesture toward the door, and Jirou mutters an excuse about needing to go out to smoke. She gets up, and you follow her outside, the cool night air hitting your skin as the door shuts behind you.

You sit together on the dimly lit sidewalk next to Taco Bell, the soft hum of traffic in the distance and the occasional laugh or shout from inside the restaurant drifting through the air. It’s 2 a.m., and everything feels a little surreal, like the world outside is still spinning while you’re stuck in a quiet moment of clarity.

Jirou leans back against the wall, her eyes flicking over to you every so often. She doesn’t rush to ask anything, doesn’t push for details. Instead, she just lets the silence settle between you both, giving you space to gather your thoughts.

That’s what you love about Jirou. The space she gives you, her words always calculated. She thinks before she speaks, and there’s a calmness to her that helps you think more clearly. As much as you love Mina, this conversation wouldn’t be the same with her—not tonight, at least. It’s her birthday, and you don’t want to burden her with this… situationship? Can you even call it that?

You take a deep breath, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, fingers trembling slightly. “I don’t know what to do, Jirou,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t pretend like it was a mistake anymore… I—”

Your voice falters for a moment, the words catching in your throat. You let out a dry chuckle, though it doesn’t feel lighthearted at all. “Oh my god, I’m such a mess,” you say, rubbing your face in frustration. Then, without warning, the laughter escapes you, but it’s not real—just a hollow sound escaping from your chest.

“I fucked him, Jirou. I fucked him again!”

Jirou doesn’t react at first, her expression unreadable, but then she places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay to feel lost right now. You’re not the first person to get caught up in something messy,” she says, her voice soft but steady.

You laugh again, this time with less force, your shoulders sagging as you let out a shaky breath. “But it’s not just messy, Jirou. It’s… complicated. He’s not just some guy I can brush off. I thought I could handle it, but I… I don’t even know what this is”

“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, okay? You don’t have to make any decisions tonight. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you really want, not just what you think you should want or what feels good in the moment. You deserve clarity.”

You nod, the weight of her words sinking in, but your mind still feels like a tangled mess. “It’s just so hard. I keep saying I’ll walk away, but then—then he does something, and I just… fall right back in.”

“I get it,” Jirou says, her voice soft but firm. “But you’ve gotta ask yourself—what does he want? Is he just messing with you, or is he feeling the same thing?”

You hesitate, then force the words out, the lump in your throat thick. “He said he likes me, Jirou. Not in some casual way, not just in the heat of the moment… He said it.”

Jirou blinks in surprise, her expression softening as she processes the words. “He said that?”

You nod, your chest tightening as you speak. “Yeah. After everything—after we… well, after we hooked up again, he said it. But I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what it means. I don’t know if he really means it, or if it’s just… something he said in the moment, you know? I can’t keep doing this back-and-forth if I don’t know where he stands. It’s like..” you hesitate and take another breath “it’s like, I can’t let myself believe him. Like why me? I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Jirou falls quiet for a moment, looking at you with an unreadable expression, before her lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “Sounds like he’s in his own head, just like you are.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“He might not even know how to process his own feelings. But if he said he likes you… that means something. It’s not just a casual comment. But you can’t control him, and you can’t keep dancing around this. You need to decide if you’re ready to take that leap.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the confusion and uncertainty swirling inside you. “I don’t know if I’m ready, though. I don’t know if I can trust it. It just feels like… like everything is too messy. And I don’t know if I can handle being that close to someone who’s afraid to fully commit.”

Jirou nods, wrapping her arms around you in a soft hug. “It’s a lot to think about. You don’t need to decide right now, but you do need to decide”

You lean into the embrace, letting the warmth of Jirou’s hug ground you. The steady pressure of her arms around you feels like the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely.

“I know,” you whisper, the weight of it all sinking in. “I just… I don’t know how to trust him after everything. I don’t know if I can keep putting myself out there when I don’t know if he’ll really be there, you know? It’s like I’m always waiting for him to back out.”

Jirou pulls back slightly, her hands resting on your shoulders as she looks you in the eye. “You can’t keep waiting for him to decide what he wants. You need to figure out if you want to take that chance with him. It’s about you, not just about what he might do. You have to ask yourself—are you okay with the uncertainty? Because, at the end of the day, you have to be okay with the decision, no matter what.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in your chest. You knew she was right. You couldn’t keep letting Sero’s mixed signals control your emotions. It wasn’t just about him; it was about your own happiness, your own choices.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admit softly, a small, bitter laugh escaping your lips. “I don’t know if I can keep going back and forth like this. I need to know if it’s worth it.”

Jirou gives a small nod, her eyes understanding. “Then you’ll have to figure that out. And you can’t keep avoiding the conversation with him. If you’re gonna move forward—whether it’s with him or without him—you need to hear it from him, straight up. You deserve that clarity.”

You swallow hard, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten at the thought of confronting Sero. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Jirou smiles softly, giving you a light squeeze. “Whatever happens, just know you’re not in this alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got your girls. You’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

You nod, the weight in your chest feeling a little lighter now. It wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe it was time to stop running from the mess, and start figuring out how to clean it up.

The days stretch on, each one heavier than the last. You can’t seem to stop replaying that night in your head, the way Sero had looked at you in the club, the way his words had hung in the air between you. But as much as you try to sort through your feelings, you can’t bring yourself to reach out to him. Not yet.

You check your phone more than you’d like to admit, half-expecting a message, but the only thing that shows up is the usual stream of notifications from group chats, memes, and random updates from your friends. No Sero. Not even a “hey” to check in. And that, in itself, stings more than you’d like to acknowledge but you understand.

It’s now been over a week since that night, and it’s clear that you’ve had plenty of time to think. To consider what Jirou said and to weigh your options. You’re no closer to a decision, though. If anything, you feel more lost.

You sit with yourself in your room, the soft hum of your phone filling the silence, but there’s still nothing from him. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to make the first move or if maybe he’s moved on completely. Part of you wants to reach out, to test the waters, but you know deep down that you’re not ready for that yet.

Instead, you find yourself thinking back to that moment when Jirou asked if you were okay with the uncertainty. And, honestly, you don’t know if you are. You’re not sure if you want to keep waiting around for him to make a decision that may never come, but you can’t stop wondering if that’s what love feels like—messy and uncertain, all wrapped up in feelings you can’t quite make sense of.

That night, you make your way to your favorite coffee shop, just happening to be the one you work at, hoping the change of scenery will help you clear your head. It’s quieter than usual, just a few people here and there, sipping their drinks and lost in their own thoughts. You find a seat by the window and pull out your journal , but you can’t seem to focus on anything but the nagging thoughts of Sero.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts your thoughts. You glance up, and there stands Mina, her usual bright smile on her face. She’s oblivious, chatting about something random, but her presence feels like a relief—thank god she doesn’t know about the situation with Sero. She would probably just brush it off and keep pushing you toward him, not really understanding what this is all about. After all, she’s the one who dragged you into that party in the first place, and you’re not sure you trust her judgment when it comes to anything involving Sero.

You let her talk, nodding along but not fully processing what she’s saying. You’ve got too much on your mind.

“So, uh… how are you holding up?” she asks, her tone a little quieter this time, eyes searching your face for any sign of distress.

You hesitate. Mina doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about that night, or about the confusion that’s been eating at you ever since. She doesn’t need to know.

“I’m fine,” you reply quickly, perhaps too quickly, but you hope she doesn’t catch it. “Just, you know, busy.”

She seems to accept that, moving on to the next topic, but you can feel the weight of your own uncertainty. It’s been a week since you last saw or heard from Sero, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve made a mistake by not reaching out to him.

But, then again, maybe it’s for the best. You’re not ready to deal with this yet, and Mina can’t give you the clarity you need. Only Jirou seems to get it—understands the messiness of everything, the fear of being vulnerable, the weight of everything hanging between you and Sero.

You just need time.

After a while, Mina gets distracted by her phone and starts scrolling through Instagram, and you take a deep breath. The decision to talk to Sero still feels far away. Maybe it’ll come, but not yet. For now, you’re taking a step back and letting things breathe.

You just hope that when the time comes, you’ll be ready to make a choice.

The days pass slowly, but they do pass. Life, as it tends to, keeps moving forward even when you feel stuck. You focus on work, and spending time with the people around you, but there’s this constant pull, a tugging reminder that the unresolved mess with Sero still lingers in the background.

You haven’t heard from him, and in a way, that silence feels louder than any words could. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to make a move, but you’re not sure you’re ready. The last thing you want is to make another mistake, to let yourself fall for something you’re not sure is real.

One night, about a week after the coffee shop, you’re sitting on the couch with Jirou, your head in her lap as her fingers rake through your hair, scrolling through your phone, the sound of music playing softly in the background. Denki’s working and Mina’s out again, partying with some other friends, and it’s just you two, talking about everything and nothing at all.

“You okay?” Jirou’s voice breaks through the quiet, and you glance up, meeting her concerned gaze.

You don’t answer right away, your mind still running through everything, every possible outcome. After a few moments, you sigh and put your phone down. “I don’t know,” you admit, the weight of your emotions catching up with you. “I don’t know if I should reach out to him.”

Jirou studies you, her lips pressed together in thought. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” she says slowly. “But it’s clear you’ve been thinking about it a lot. Maybe it’s time to decide if you want to keep waiting or move on.”

You nod, not sure what to say. Deep down, you know she’s right. You’ve been holding on to something undefined, waiting for clarity that hasn’t come. But is it really fair to keep waiting, to keep putting yourself through this uncertainty?

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you ask, the question barely leaving your lips before you regret it. But you need to hear her thoughts, even if they’re not what you want to hear.

Jirou doesn’t rush to answer. Instead, she looks at you for a long moment, her eyes gentle and understanding. “I think you have to trust yourself, trust what feels right,” she says quietly. “But you also need to be honest with yourself about what you want and what you’re willing to settle for.”

You sit back, letting her words sink in. It’s true, you can’t keep waiting forever, and maybe it’s time to figure out if Sero is worth the uncertainty, or if you need to move on and find something—or someone—else that feels right.

“Take all the time you need. You’ll know when you’re ready.” You appreciate her understanding. There’s no pressure from her, just support. And right now, that’s all you need.

The next few days pass in a blur. But your mind keeps coming back to Sero, to that night and the strange, complicated feelings that still linger. Every time your phone buzzes, you hope it’s him, but it never is. And each time, you feel a little more defeated, a little more unsure of what to do.

Then, one afternoon, while you’re sitting on campus, your phone buzzes. It’s a message, a notification from an unknown number. Your heart skips a beat.

You stare at the screen for a long moment before you open it. The message is short, simple:

Hey, it’s Sero. Can we talk?

You freeze, your mind racing. It’s been over a week since you last heard from him, and now, here he is, asking to talk. Part of you wants to ignore it, to let the silence continue, but the other part of you is desperate for some kind of closure, some kind of answer.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. What do you say?

You want to be careful. You want to protect yourself. But you also want to know what he’s been thinking. Why now? Why after all this time?

Finally, after what feels like forever, you type back:

We can talk. But I need to know where your head’s at. No games, no more waiting.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, then sit back, waiting for his response. This is it. Whatever happens next, you’re ready to face it. And just as you finish your coffee, your phone buzzes again.

I’m ready to be honest with you. Let’s meet up.

It’s a start.

When and where?

You ask bluntly, your fingers moving quickly across your phone screen and his reply is almost instant.

Now? The park near campus?

I’ll be there in 10

You feel your heartbreak quickening as you make the walk to the park, taking quick strides, hands fidgeting with the charms on your phone case to try to ignore the mix of emotions swirling from your chest to your stomach, god you could puke right now.

Every step feels heavier than the last. Your mind is running through every possible outcome, every word he might say, but you keep pushing it back. No use overthinking it now.

When you arrive, the park is mostly quiet,theres the familiar summer chirp of bugs, the evening air warm. You spot Sero almost immediately, standing by a bench near the trees. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders tense, as if he’s been waiting for a while. When he sees you, his expression softens, though there’s still that guarded look in his eyes. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

You stop a few feet away, the distance feeling strange now that the silence has stretched so long between you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice a little quieter than you intended. You clear your throat. “So…”

Sero exhales slowly. He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, neither of you speak, the weight of the past week lingering between you. He looks like he’s trying to find the right words, something to say that won’t mess it up.

“So…” He scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence faltering. “It’s been a minute.” You nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Yeah, a little over a week.”

He leans against the back of the bench, studying you. His gaze was intense but there was an undercurrent of something softer now, something you hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t seem like he was in control of the situation, not like usual. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to reach out first or if you wanted space.”

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but you couldn’t help feeling like something was off. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “I just— I’ve been thinking a lot. About what you said.”

Sero’s brow furrowed slightly, and he sat down across from you, folding his arms. “Yeah? And what did you think about?”

“I thought about it, but…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain. “I’m just gonna be honest. I just don’t know if I can trust it. You know? I mean… I’ve been hurt before, and I know that’s not your fault but.. can you blame me for having my guard up?”

He gives a light chuckle, with a soft smile but he doesn’t think anything’s funny. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “You don’t have to take my word for it, but I’m not playing games here. I know how it looks, but I’m not pretending like I don’t feel something for you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart beating faster at his words. “I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for whatever it is we’re doing.”

Sero leaned forward, locking eyes with you. “I get it. I’m not exactly the type for commitment, you know that. But… I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted to be with someone like this.”

You were quiet for a long moment, taking in his words. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But fear gnawed at you, fear of getting too close, of getting hurt.

“I just don’t want to get hurt,” you finally whispered.

Sero reaches out, his fingers idly playing with yours in a soft and delicate touch. “I know. And I’m not asking you to jump into anything. I just… I want to try, if you do.”

“how about this..you don’t have to decide right now,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. “But I don’t want to pretend like this isn’t real. I want you to know that. Let’s just.. see?”

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. You didn’t have all the answers. You didn’t know what would happen, or if you were even ready to take the leap. But for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel like you had to do it all alone. For now, that was enough.

Sero gave you a small, genuine smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” And in that moment, you finally allowed yourself to believe it.

At first, nothing really changes.

You don’t talk about that night. You don’t talk about what Sero said outside the club, and you definitely don’t bring up what happened between you in the bathroom. But slowly, in the quiet in-between moments, something shifts.

It starts with coincidence. Or maybe it’s not. You’re not sure.

You start running into him more—at the coffee shop near campus, at parties, at the gas station when you’re both grabbing snacks at ungodly hours of the night. And each time, he doesn’t push, doesn’t corner you into a conversation you’re not ready to have. He just treats you the same as he always has. And maybe that’s why, when he casually invites you to come chill one night after class, you don’t hesitate before saying yes.

The first time, it’s easy. Low stakes. Just you, Sero, and some dumb movie playing in the background while you share a joint and talk shit about the characters. You feel relaxed in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. There’s no pressure, no expectations, just easy conversation and the familiar warmth of his presence. So when he texts you again a few days later—Movie night? No pressure, but Eijirou picked something awful and I need backup—you say yes again. And again after that.

Before you know it, it’s a thing.

It’s not dating. It’s not casual sex. It’s just… spending time together. A lot of it.

Some nights, you smoke and get lost in deep conversations about nothing and everything—childhood stories, stupid fears, the weirdest dreams you’ve ever had. Other nights, you just sit in comfortable silence, watching whatever trash reality show Eijirou put on before he passed out in the other room.

And then, at some point, he starts touching you.

Not in a way that crosses any lines, but in ways that make your heart stutter before you can remind yourself not to read into it. A hand on your thigh when he’s laughing at something you said. Fingers brushing against yours when he hands you the lighter. His arm slung casually over the couch behind you, fingertips tracing absent-minded patterns on your shoulder.

And then one night, after weeks of this new rhythm, he kisses you.

It’s soft, almost uncertain, like he’s testing the waters, giving you space to pull away if you want to. But you don’t. Instead, you lean in.

And just like that, the line between what you were and what you are starts to blur.

You still haven’t talked about it. About what this means. But for now, that feels okay. For now, you just let it happen.

Things shift and to say there’s not more sex would be a lie. It’s the way his eyes linger on you, hung from the weed, how his kisses become slow and deliberate and for his fingertips dance on your skin. The way he whispers in your ear, in Spanish—not that you understand, but you can feel the tenderness in his words. He takes his time with you now, almost reverent, and it’s nothing like before. It’s deeper, unrushed, laced with an intimacy you’ve never felt before.

You don’t talk about it—both too afraid to ruin whatever this is. Instead, you spend countless nights in his bed, bodies bare and tangled in his sheets, skin pressed together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You sleep on his chest, and he sleeps on yours, fingers absentmindedly threading through each other’s hair, lost in the quiet comfort of it all.

The days blur together, each one pulling you deeper into him. You don’t label it, don’t define it, but it’s there—in the way he texts you first thing in the morning, in the way he always saves you a seat when you and your friends meet up, in the way his hands find your waist even when you’re just standing next to him.

Nights are even worse, or maybe better, depending on how you look at it. He rolls joints with practiced ease, passing them to you with a lazy smirk, eyes half-lidded as he watches you take a hit. You watch movies, neither of you really paying attention, too caught up in the way his arm drapes over your shoulders, the way his lips press to your temple when he thinks you’re too high to notice.

And then there’s the sex—slow, unhurried, nothing like before. He touches you like he’s memorizing you, kissing you like he means it. He murmurs in Spanish against your skin, words you don’t understand but feel down to your bones. It’s different now, laced with something you’re both too scared to name.

But still, neither of you bring it up.

You don’t ask what this is, don’t ask if he’s still seeing other people—if he even wants to. You tell yourself you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter. But late at night, when he’s asleep next to you, his fingers still loosely curled around yours, you wonder how long you can pretend.

The uncertainty lingers, creeping in during quiet moments—when his hand finds yours absentmindedly, when he pulls you into his chest after sex, when he looks at you like you’re something he’s afraid to lose. But neither of you say anything, and maybe that’s why it works. Maybe acknowledging it would break whatever delicate balance you’ve found.

So you let it be.

Days turn into weeks, and Sero becomes a constant in your life. It’s not just about being tangled in his sheets anymore—it’s grocery runs, late-night drives, music playing softly in the background as you paint and he watches from the couch, joints lazily burning between his fingers. It’s comfortable. Easy.

And yet, there’s still an edge to it, a question neither of you are brave enough to ask.

Then one night, it almost slips out.

You’re lying on his bed, exhausted, your head resting on his chest. His fingers trace slow circles on your back, his other hand scrolling mindlessly on his phone. You’re not sure how long you’ve been lying there in silence, but it’s the kind that feels full rather than empty.

“You staying over?” he asks, voice low, lazy. You hum in response, nuzzling closer, and he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your cheek. And then, before you can stop yourself—

“You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

The question falls into the space between you, and immediately, you regret it. You can’t take it back now. You tense against him, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

Sero stills beneath you. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you think you’ve ruined it. Then—

“Nah.”

Your breath catches.

“I was,” he admits, his fingers resuming their slow patterns on your skin. “Before. But not since… this.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Since what?”

His hand moves, tilting your chin up so you’re looking at him. His expression is unreadable, but his thumb brushes over your cheek, slow and deliberate.

“You know what.”

And just like that, the balance shifts again. Sero doesn’t push, just watches you, his dark eyes calm, unreadable. It’s not like before—when everything felt like a game, when he’d flirt just to see if he could get a reaction, when you’d pretend it didn’t mean anything.

This is different. He’s different. And so are you.

Sero must see the hesitation in your eyes because his smirk fades slightly. “I’m not asking for anything, you know that, I’m not pushing you” he says, voice gentle. “I just… I don’t want you thinking I’m out here playing you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t.” And you don’t. Not anymore. At least that’s what you thought.

The evening is casual, comfortable, yet there’s a noticeable distance between the two of you. You’re quiet, picking at your food, not really focusing on the conversation. Sero notices immediately, his gaze flickering to you, but he doesn’t say anything at first. The feeling in the air is thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of them resting on your shoulders.

You’ve been hanging out more than ever lately, but there’s been something off. Every time he pulls his phone out, you can’t help but catch glimpses of a name you somewhat recognize. Elena. It’s her—his ex, or whatever she was. You’d seen her name come up too many times over the past week. You tell yourself it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a friend. Maybe it’s old news or something stupid. But with each new notification, your heart tightens just a little more.

Tonight, you can’t ignore it anymore. You don’t even want to look at your food anymore, let alone pretend everything is fine.

Sero’s phone buzzes again on the table between you two. It’s her again. Her name lights up on the screen

Elena- two new messages

You sigh, maybe too loudly. He glances at you, his brow furrowing.

“You good, hermosa?” he asks, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

“You know,” you begin, your voice casual but with an edge that even you can feel, “you’ve been getting a lot of messages from Elena lately.”

Hanta doesn’t look at you right away. He shifts in his seat, clearly not prepared for the conversation, but then meets your gaze with a small frown. He swipes at his phone and pockets it. “She’s just— she’s a friend.”

You tilt your head, not buying it. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about the way he says it doesn’t sit right. It sounds like a defense mechanism.

“You’re telling me she’s just a friend?” you ask softly, trying to keep your voice steady. You lean in a little, arms crossed as you watch him. “Because from what I’m seeing, it doesn’t really look like that. Every time I look, it’s her name, and it’s not like it’s one or two messages. It’s… a lot.”

He blinks, a flash of uncertainty passing over his face before his brow furrows in confusion. “Wait—what are you trying to say?” His voice has that edge now, defensive, but his eyes are a little softer. He’s trying to figure out where you’re coming from.

Your gaze doesn’t waver. “I don’t know. I just feel like… I don’t know, I guess I’m getting the vibe that maybe she’s still trying to get something from you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that, Hanta.”

A friend. But that doesn’t explain the constant messages. The persistent name that’s been a fixture on his screen. It stirs something deep inside you—something protective, something unsure.

“I get that she’s your friend, but…” you trail off, looking at your hands in your lap before looking up at him. “I’m not really comfortable with you talking to someone who actively wants you, Hanta. I mean… you told me about her, and how she’s tried to hook up with you before…”

His expression softens, but there’s still a flicker of tension in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but you rush to continue, your voice slightly firmer now, trying to make your feelings known.

“I’m sorry if that’s not fair, but I can be a little crazy when it comes to things like this, okay?” you say, your voice softer now, almost apologetic. “I just… I don’t want to be the type of person who’s constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m just another girl to you. Or if she’s still trying to be a thing.”

You stop, your breath a little shaky. You look away, letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to cause drama or make things worse between us, but I don’t think I want that kind of uncertainty. I don’t think we want that.”

Sero doesn’t say anything for a moment, watching you quietly. You can feel the weight of his gaze, but it doesn’t feel judgmental. It feels… understanding.

He pulls his phone out slowly, unlocking it and scrolling through the messages. You feel your heart race as he hands it to you. You hesitate for a moment, before reading the texts. Elena’s messages are flirtatious, almost desperate at times, while Sero’s responses remain clear and firm. He tells her, over and over again, that he’s with someone else now, that he’s not interested in anything with her.

One message stands out. “I’ve got a girl now, Elena. I’m not doing that anymore.”

You read it and then look up at him, your chest tight and your words catching in your throat. “You really told her that?” you ask softly, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more uncertain.

Hanta nods, his expression serious, his eyes searching yours for some kind of understanding. “I did. And I meant it, hermosa,” he says, his voice low, steady. “I’m not interested in anything with her. Not anymore.”

You swallow thickly, a little unsure of how to feel. You wish you could just let go of the nagging feeling in your chest, the one that still doubts that maybe there’s more going on here than he’s letting on. But the last thing you want is to make him feel guilty for having a past.

“I… I don’t know,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “It’s just hard for me. To see you still talking to her. And I don’t want to be crazy, I don’t.”

Hanta’s eyes soften, and he leans across the table, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. His voice is tender now, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like that,” he says quietly. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re the one I’m with now. Always have been.”

You nod, but the unease doesn’t quite disappear. There’s still a flicker of uncertainty in your chest, and part of you feels ridiculous for even questioning him, but you can’t help it.

“I guess I just need to know you’re serious about this. About.. us,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to feel like you’re not still hanging on to something that could pull you away.”

Sero’s eyes narrow slightly, his jaw clenched, but not in anger—more like determination. He leans closer to you, the weight of his gaze on you again. “I’m serious, it makes you uncomfortable? She’s gone. I don’t care about her” he says, his voice quiet but intense. “You’re mine, hermosa. I was just waiting for you to see that.”

His words hit you like a wave. The finality in his voice reassures you more than anything else could, and for the first time, you feel like maybe this is something real.

“Okay,” you breathe out, a small, relieved smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, I think I get it now.”

Sero smiles, a hint of something soft in his eyes. He reaches out, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand gently. “I’ve always been serious about you, baby,” he murmurs. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

The tension between you both begins to melt away as you sit in the quiet, you let your hand interlock with his, the unspoken understanding lingering between you. There’s no need for more words. You’re his, and he’s yours. And maybe that’s all that matters.

A/N- finally done omggg! Ik it’s been anticipated (and it’s super long cause I made yall wait so long for the next part) but I hope everyone enjoys :P and big love to @cxvii666 !!

Tags:

@beabamboo @poemeater @kingfrogz @beebunsx @mimzyu @superlegend216 @augustraine

POV: You're secretly dating your boss, Aaron Hotchner

HIII BLOOM !!!! i was wondering if you could do a lil fluff drabble of you chilling with sero in his room during like a talking stage ?

⋆˚࿔ the synonyms of epitome

authors note: siri what is a talking stage. seraph thank u for requesting ⸝⸝^ᴗ^⸝⸝ sorry for the wait!!

contains: gn!reader, unestablished relationship, fluff, awful flirting

word count: 1.1k

“and she was the—“ hanta glanced up at you. his eyebrow lifted as he looked at you through the stray hairs that had fallen from his shaggy— surprisingly well kept —mullet. you could see his jaw lock into a comfortable smile as he propped it up in the palm of his hand.

“epitome.” you nodded in confirmation. 

it was only midday, so you could hear the distant sounds of footsteps and murmurs of conversation coming from the ua lively students outside. you glanced at the blossoming cherry blossom trees out of hanta’s slightly ajar window. the blush dusted leaves fought against the wind, constant rustles confirming its battle. 

you rest your head against the headboard of hantas bed and took it all in. the wind whistled loudly, sharing secrets with the inner shell of your ear. you liked days like this. simple.

“epitome,” hanta copied from the foot of his bed. his pointer finger followed the words in the book mr. aizawa had assigned for your ancient history class too long ago. 

you had already read the book and wrote your review paper on it two weeks ago but when hanta came to you asking if you wanted to read the awfully boring novel together, who were you to say no?

hanta had a way of making everything feel more alive. over the past few months you, and a handful of other people, have taken notice of how much the two of you spend time together— in how much you enjoy his presence. 

he didn’t have to be telling a dumb joke or making fun of something stupid denki had done. something as simple as being by your side while you’re folding your laundry or mindlessly browsing on your phone, was enough to make you feel so unreasonably good. 

there was something special about your relationship with hanta. something that hasn’t been spoken about on surface level. but the signs were definitely there. 

“she was the epitome of beauty.” hanta finished the sentence, he brows knitting together. “epitome.” he said again. he pinned the book onto his bed with one hand and idly fiddled with his ruffled sheets with his other. 

“he’s basically saying she’s the perfect embodiment of beauty.” you said. “he really likes her.”

hanta nodded his head slowly, “but when he talks to her he acts like he doesn't care?” hanta asks, but it’s clearly his question is coming from curiosity and not confusion. 

you let out a short hum in reply and thought of the best explanation. “well.. maybe he feels too nervous when he  talks to her and can’t show his true emotions?” you tap your fingers against the spine of the novel. you hadn’t given the half baked romance trope of the book much thought but hell if hanta was asking, you were suddenly interested too.

hanat scoffed, shifting from his position. “if i thought someone was the ‘epitome’ of beauty,” his words started off strong but seemed to slowly tumble into a declaration of uncertainty. still he went on, “i would talk to them before anyone else could.” he let out an airy breath. “but i guess i don’t blame him for being nervous.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

you nudged his leg from your spot on the bed, “so what? you see someone you like and immediately ask them out?”

hanta’s eyes flicker to your smirking face,  “i see someone i like and i become their friend.” his eyes fell back onto his bedding. he was really admiring the 100% cotton material. 

“uh huh.” 

“and maybe, eventually, i would ask them out after a couple of years.” he says, his finger making a swirling motion.

“a couple of years?!” you exclaimed, shooting up into a  straightened posture, “you’d make the person you think is perfect wait years for a confession?” you asked, a finger pointed at the tape boy as you suppressed a laugh. you didn’t expect hanta to be so... timid. “who would wait that long?” you asked, genuinely curious.

hanta finally peeled his eyes away from his sheets. his tone indicated that his confidence quickly flooded back, “someone who really likes me too.” he stated, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. 

it was your turn to shift positions now, suddenly feeling like you were under interrogation, when you were really just under hanta’s gaze. your finger fell at his shockingly mature reply. “i guess that makes sense..” you bite your lip.

hanta chuckles at this.

you sighed before you spoke again, allowing your curiosity to get the best of you, “sooo what type of person are you even into?” 

in the couple of years you’ve know hanta he’s never actually had anyone he was talking to, at least not that you know of. and for some reason you felt the need to learn everything about him. it was only natural, right?

hanta shrugged, “someone who can put up with my bullshit.” the book was abandoned now, his idle tracing too, leaving all his attention on you. 

his eyes lit a dangerous fire under you, one that scuffed the surface of your interest. not to the point where it burned, but it left your skin unusually warm. “that leaves your playing field pretty empty huh?” you choose to tease, knowing that if you thought too hard you’d send yourself into a red faced spiral. 

hanta laughed, rubbing his forehead as he shook his head. “not completely empty.” he remarked, something about his words hinting at a subliminal message. “what’s your type then, cerebrito?”

the question caught you by surprise. you hadn’t had time to focus on building romantic relationships with others. you mostly focus on strengthening the relationship you had with your friends, hanta being your strongest. 

“i guess i would like to date someone who can make me laugh. and who likes to spend time with me.” you replied, purposely being broad. hanta had a telling look on his face, making you intrigued to what he was plotting.

hanta nodded, clicking his tongue. “would you like, be into some guy who likes to read boring ass books with you?” he asked carefully, almost like he was ensuring he could play off as a joke if you didn’t answer adequately.

you smiled, ignoring the increase in your heart rate and the sirens blaring in your head. leaning forward, you

force yourself to gently shove his chest, “i would be into a guy who knows what the word epitome means.” you bite back— though it’s more of a playful nip . 

hanta raised a brow and put on a smile, “oh? so you wouldn’t be into a guy who’s the epitome of stupidity?”

he's so stupid. so stupid and so your type. 

“i’m into guys who finish their homework.” you tapped the edge of his copy of the novel. 

hanta settled back into his original position, grinning like he had just won a golden prize. “alright y/n. give this guy a couple of hours and you won’t have to wait any longer.” he brought his focus back to the work below him, “i promise.”

caught in the middle // sero hanta

when the only thing keeping you two apart is bro-code

a/n: birthday request from @sillykoalawasteland <3 happy birthdaayyyyyy i hope this was fun for youuuu

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis @haruhi269 @starliightfiend

Bensler + Season One

How to tag this

This didn’t age well.

These are the men I’d think would pull a Barry Keoghan with you:

bnha/ kirishima, denki, todoroki (my man just wants to have fun) , jirou

hq/ iwaizumi, Tanaka, kurro, bokuto, OIKAWA (he eats up any attention) , tendo

jjk/ gojo, yuta, itodori, choso, toji (IMAGINE HIM IN THAT MV OMFGGGG), Maki,

(The ‘pulling a Barry Keoghan im talking abt is staring in the mv for a song their s/o wrote abt them. #hardlaunch)

Sero thoughts!

Masterlist!

In my mind Sero can play the guitar and the ukulele so beautifully and he can also sing, I feel like he would actually have that scratchy raspy singing voice that's so pretty and relaxing loll!! and its a plus he also can sing in Spanish because again in my mind Sero is half Mexican half Japanese. Sero one time stayed up to 3am to write a song for you and when he played it for you you literally started tearing up because is was so beautiful and full of love. Sero is such a love struck boy like seriously you do something to that boy he is absolutely OBSESSED with you to the point it's so adorable. Most of the time he doesn't really sing in Spanish because he feels like his voice isn't as good as it is when he sings normally (which is such bs) but if you beg him (ask once) he'll do it for you because ur his sweet little baby! If you ask him so sing you too sleep he usually always sings in Spanish then because you mentioned one time before y'all were dating that weirdly Spanish music helps you fall asleep so now every time you ask him to he sings in Spanish. He's so lover boy coded guys like idk what it is about him but something abt him just gives off such lover vibes and its so cute SIGHHH I wish he was real :(

Songs he would sing to you:

I come back to this so often…

can i request y/n’s reaction to toji going to jail? like was she there for the arrest.. how did toji break the news?

partial continuation to this ask !

his crime is finally revealed ! mwahaaha. if i printed out every comment asking me to assign him a crime to go along with his prison sentence i’d be able to cover the state of texas. probs my longest work! and this isn’t even that long so what does that say about me? (poor work ethic)

prison bf series linked here !

content: angst, hurt/comfort, lots of fighting, themes of incarceration

────────────────────────

“can i ask you something?” you mumble, rolling onto your stomach to address your boyfriend face to face.

toji pauses, then nods, blowing an acrid plume of smoke towards the ceiling before passing you the cigarette he had pinched between two fingers.

a buzzer sounds from the tv in front of you followed by a sea of excited cheers.

“fuck!” he curses. bringing his fist down on the mattress. “i have 6 grand on this fucking match.”

you wait for his hand to unclench before tapping him, reminding him of your inquiry.

“yeah— yeah. what’s up?” he mumbles, squeezing the fat of your arm affectionately. toji takes what’s left of the cigarette back from you, stubbing it out in the marble ashtray on his bedside table.

“you never told me what you do for work.” the implication hangs heavy in the air as you wait for him to explain, the last bits of smoke around the two of you begin to dissipate. you realize he’s gone rigid.

“business, lots of things.” he says curtly, fishing a pack of marlboro reds from the side hesitantly. you hate when he does this, keeping his hands occupied so he has an excuse to not speak to you.

“right, but like..” you start, growing frustrated. “what kind of business.”

“real estate… y’know.” he smacks the carton against the butt of his hand, then fishes out a stick.

“property management. investing and all that.” he sounds a little more confident this time, cupping a lighter to his mouth with a cough.

you tear yourself from his arms and sit up on the bed, eyes cast on his. you practically feel his stomach drop from how he looks at you, movements laced with caution and hesitance.

“put that out.” you tell him. “stop playing games with me.”

“what?” he laugh’s incredulously, still trying to maintain his confident facade.

“do you not think it’s fucking weird that i don’t know where all your money comes from? do you even pay for this fucking house?” your patience had officially run out, you were pissed.

“nonono— hey— hey c’mon.” toji grapples for your hands, quickly trying to calm you down.

“you don’t do fucking real estate, do you really think i’m that stupid?” your accusation renders him speechless for a moment as he thinks of what to say.

the older man’s expression twists as guilt starts to usher in. he extinguishes the roll-up in his hand, flicking it into the ash tray on your nightstand before reaching for you softly.

“baby..” he chuckles, snaking two palms around the curve of your waist. “don’t be like that.”

“i know it’s illegal. i know it is and i’m not even mad, toji. i’m not .. i just want to know.”

he sighs, running a hand down the side of his face.

“you think just because we eat good that i wouldn’t ask questions down the line? do you think i’m fucking stupid?”

“no.” he whines. “no, fuck. c’mon.” you smack his hands away as he reaches for you once more, tearing yourself off the bed and out into the hallway.

you hear your name boom behind you angrily as he calls out for you a final time. glass shatters against the ground as he mutters to himself, heavy footsteps pacing back and forth.

─

you’re not unaware of toji’s presence as the older man stands in front of your curled up form on the couch. it’s dark, probably just after 3am. too dark to see his expression, though you know he’s frowning.

he lets out a quiet sound of realization as you turn over, rucking the blanket over your head to drown his presence out. the windows are open, you can feel the chill of the night breeze, even under your comforter.

“i can’t let you sleep here, pretty. that’s not right.”

you stay silent, holding your breath as you wait for him to either leave or fess up.

it’s quiet for a while. you slowly feel yourself being pulled into the precipice between sleep and awareness. an all-consuming warmth makes its home in your chest before you’re quickly struck back awake, heart jumpstarting at the sound of his voice.

“i invest in properties.” he whispers, kneeling beside you so you can hear him more clearly.

“i make investments in properties and then i let people store.. product there.” you know he isn’t lying to you this time. you feel it in his tone.

“product?” you grumble, your voice laced with sleep. you know exactly what he means, you just want to hear him say it.

“drugs, baby. warehouses.”

it’s quiet once more as you mull over what to say back. were you surprised? hardly. you knew what you were getting into as soon as you got involved with him. were you mad? well it was still hard to tell.

“ok.” you mumble curtly, throwing the covers towards your feet and stalking towards the master bedroom. you knew now, and that was that. you gathered there was no reason to keep fighting about it.

toji stands a little too quickly, watching your form disappear up the stairs.

“wait—” he starts, head spinning at your sudden acceptance. “wait really?”

“just come to bed.” you holler, sighing dryly to yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it it all.

─

toji had a plan in place even before you’d found out what kind of business he was running. if anything were to happen to him, there would be a fund stored overseas for you to dig into while he wasn’t there to put food on the table.

he’d thought of everything, put measures in place that normal people wouldn’t even think of before it was too late.

he had your shared house put under a family member’s name, hired private security to watch the perimeter of the house 24/7, urged you to use a fake ID in public to conceal your real name, and never ever took you to work meetings.

it just wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t enough to keep his phones from getting tapped. it wasn’t enough to stop an investigation from being launched, and it simply just wasn’t enough to keep him under the radar and out of a prison cell.

you wailed like a baby when the bailiffs snapped those silver cuffs on his arms and led him out of the court room, crumpling to the floor and babbling nonsense towards the judge’s podium like it would somehow change the course of what just happened.

7 years in a federal penitentiary. and that was nothing compared to the sentence they would’ve gave him if his men hadn’t taken half of the fall for him.

toji didn’t look at you.

he didn’t so much as spare you a glance as you sat there on the carpeted floor, screaming into your hands while the bailiffs tried to pick you up off of the floor.

he didn’t say anything to you as you kicked and scratched your way towards his lawyer, hurling expletives and threats to the one person who was tasked with maintaining his freedom.

he didn’t look because he couldn’t.

he couldn’t look at you, his only girl. the girl he’d marry someday, the one he’d raise a family with. he couldn’t look at you because if he did he might risk breaking down right then and there.

he might risk grabbing you by the arm and booking it, going underground for the rest of your lives while his name slowly climbed up the nation’s most wanted list.

he could do it, without question. he’d be more cautious this time. but that just wouldn’t be fair to you. he was done roping you into his mess.

you were young, gorgeous, too good for all of that trouble. you’d worked all your life to get by until he met you, slowly letting down your walls, letting him spoil you like you’d always deserved. and what kind of man would he be if he took that away from you and forced the two of you into hiding?

toji felt himself crumble as reality began to sink in. his stomach dropped with each dreaded step towards his holding room. this was no joke. this was his fate and there was no getting out of it.

“wait.” he tells the bailiffs, whipping his head towards the direction of the courtroom in a panic. he wasn’t the boss anymore. these men didn’t answer to him.

“wait, fuck. wait!” he groans, barreling his way back down the hall. he needed to see you, needed to say goodbye. there’s no telling when they’d let you two visit or if you’d even be able to communicate. god, this was real.

god, he was a coward for giving you the silent treatment. he deserved prison just for that.

toji grunts as he’s tackled to the ground, gloved hands securing shackles on his ankles.

“get offa me. get off— fuck. i wanna see her.” he groans, thrashing as security circles his form. “nonono let me see her! fuck— fuck!”

all he can do is listen to you wail as he’s dragged down the hall, screaming out to you in hopes you hear him.

────────────────────────

taglist ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by

𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟎𝟏: 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 — 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐧.

pairing monoma neito x gn!reader

synopsis in which...

academic rivalries, to most, are often just fun ways to drive competition between peers. but for two aerospace engineering majors at ua university, it’s anything but lighthearted. infamous for their competition, y/n l/n and neito monoma are constantly at each others throats. so what happens when they’re paired together for a semester-long project worth 50% of their grade?

content tags college!au, aged up!au, quirkless!au engineering student reader, engineering student monoma, academic rivals (enemies) to reluctant allies to lovers, genuine idiocy, reader is an instigator, hurt/comfort, angst, emotionally constipated reader

warnings swearing, usage of kys/kms jokes, gay jokes, engineering majors, implicit mentions of drug/alcohol usage, innuendos but no explicit mentions of sex

taglist is open, 24 more slots remaining, please leave a comment or send in an ask to be added to the taglist

disclaimer i do not own any faceclaims, they are taken from pinterest, i try my best to keep y/n’s faceclaim as neutral as possible in terms of gender and race but regardless any pictures i use do not reflect y/n’s race or gender.

student directory ; hogwarts rejects | d1 crash outs

academic calendar (chapters with ✐ᝰ include written portions)

syllabus day.

week one.

week two.

© 4rmins, 2024

CIGARETTES AFTER TEXTS

think i like you best when you're just with me, and no one else.

to him, she was the equivalent of hearing your favourite song for the first time, memorising the lyrics, mesmerised by the melody and instruments that you forget what you were doing in the first place. to her, he was a hardcore fan who had wayyy too many band t-shirts. such different lives, yet fate brought them together after maki scored a hot girls number.

pairing: megumi x f!rockstar!reader

status: ongoing!

tags: megumi is a fan, megumi wears band tees religiously, yn is a guitarist and a singer, yn is a year older than megumi, swearing!!, toge slander, yn and yuta are co-parenting maki and toge, megumi nobara and yuji are huge fans, megumi the most obv, crack, fluff, smau

taglist: open!

INTRODUCTIONS: solitaire | the big three

CLOSETS: yn's closet

PLAYLISTS: solitaires discography

MOODBOARDS: solitaire | yn | megumi

chapter one: historians will call them friends

chapter two:

chapter three:

"their love is a love that no body could destroy" is what Denki ended his speech as the best man at you and Hanta's wedding.

looking back, that's usually what people would say about the relation ship between the two.

when sero broke his arms when his tape was snapped by a villain on a mission, you where the one holding his things, feeding him, writing for him, all of the above.

when he was failing class, and you where acing everything without fail, you where helping him, even before you guys where official.

when denki made a move on you when you and hanta hadn't told everyone when you where finally dating, you laughed, said fat chance and ended up walking away with hanta when he slipped out of the group with you.

to be fair, everyone did catch on pretty quick after that incident.

when it was your turn for your arms to be broken. "ironic isn't it?" when it was hanta's turn to be doing all the things you did for him.

when hanta asked katsuki for his blessing, there was no hesitation from katsuki because as annoying as he found him, he knew he made you happy, and was the one for you. (katsuki took you in when you where kids and cared for you through out your life, even when your parents where killed.)

when he took you on a trip that you thinking like those "is he proposing or" videos. flew out your friends and family. it was a walk on the beach and he had stopped you, took the blindfold he made you where off, and you saw a walkway of candles, roses, and the man of your dreams on one knee, in front of you.

when katsuki ended up being the one to walk you down the isle, being the closest thing you had ever had to a brother, tears of joy streamed down his face, seeing what he was spending the rest of his life with.

note lowk dedicated to my queen @poemeater

play dumb!

synopsis : after your last heartbreak you decide to get a little revenge, what could go wrong?

content : loser!atsumu, college au, pining, fluff, suggestive, cheating, angst, ooc, mother issues, characters are adults, written parts

don't look at the time stamps or dates :D

status: ongoing

pairing : atsumu x f!reader

schedule : so inconsistent sorry in advance <3

taglist : leave a comment here to be added :)

dividers

inspo : this smau, how to lose a guy in 10 days, and this

introductions : chronically single + yn | fuck, marry, kill, sanitize

prologue : hey girlie

one : don't change the subject (written)

two : oh

three : you owe me

four : he'll live (written)

five : you're no fun

six : good guy (written)

seven : watch me

eight : girlfriendy (written)

nine: keg stand (written)

ten : delightful to be around

I want to dye my hair blue so bad.

LIKE RAAAHGGG

DELUSION LAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hope u guys like it!!!!!!! LMFAOOO I LOVEEE DOING THESEEE!!! I recently reblogged the clear ver if u guys wanna do it!!! PLS DO IT IT'S FUNNNNN

sink your teeth into my flesh | s. hanta

s: Sero’s jealousy flares once more after you reconnect with your high school crush during hero patrol, rekindling old memories and ugly insecurities he had buried deep inside. Just how far would he go to show you he's only trying to protect you?

w: smut, angry sex, jealousy, Sero gets slapped (in a non sexual way, but he deserves it)

n: how do we feel knowing there's only one more chapter left???!!!!! beta read by my queen @jemifis | read on ao3

previous | next | start here

10 years ago

“Okay,” you say, leaving the minuscule bathroom in your dorm room and showing off your new dress to Sero, who was sitting on the edge of your bed. “What do you think?”

He looks up from his phone and pauses, taking in your blue dress and sandals, makeup and hair done. You look beautiful. His heart skips a beat and his face reddens when you spin around, smiling.

“It’s- fine .” He looks away, forcing himself to not look love-sick.

“Fine?” Your smile drops.

“It’s okay.” Sero shrugs. “I don’t understand why you have to go, though.”

You sigh. “Not this again.”

He stands up from your bed and crosses his arms.

“I’m serious. Monoma hates our class, why would he want to go out with you?”

“Wow, Sero. Thank you.” You turn around to enter the bathroom again, but Sero catches you before you do.

“No, I mean!” He holds your elbow, turning you to face him, “Why would you want to go out with him?”

“He makes me laugh,” you shrug.

“That’s not very hard to do, is it?”

“ Hanta! ”

“I’m just saying! You deserve better.”

You lean on the doorframe, head resting on the wooden structure, as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Are you jealous?” You smile, crossing your arms.

The question makes him jump, widening his eyes, “What?! Of course not!”

Sero turns his back on you, taking large steps to make some distance between the both of you. You just laugh, taking one last look in the mirror, ready to go out.

“Well, I’m going, whether you like it or not.” You declare, grabbing your purse from your desk.

“Fine. Have fun then.”

“I will!”

…

Now

“So, funny bumping into Monoma today, right?” Sero says, dropping himself on your bed.

It’s a Friday night and you were doing some chores peacefully in your bedroom, until he barged in through the window.

“You know you can use the door, like a normal person, right?” You say, dropping a bunch of clean laundry to fold and put it in your closet. Sero is still wearing his hero suit, helmet under his arm, sweat glistening on his temples. “And don’t lie on the bed with that gross suit!”

“You seemed to like the suit the other day…” He gives you a shit eating smile.

You just roll your eyes and turn your back to him, hiding the fact that you might look flustered. Walking to your closet, you pull out a spare pair of shorts and a shirt you’d always keep for when he’d show up unannounced like tonight.

“Here.” You throw the clothes at him, “Change your clothes. I just put on clean bed sheets.

Sero sighs, hopping from the bed and undressing. “You seemed so happy to run into him.”

“Who?”

“Phantom Thief,” he says, referring to Monoma’s hero name.

During a patrol round together, you and Sero ran into your old high school crush, Neito Monoma. He recognized you on the spot and you both engaged in a pleasant conversation that lasted longer than it should have, in Sero’s eyes. It’s not like he was jealous or something – he was –, but seeing you smiling and laughing with another guy made him annoyed. Sero tried to chime in a few times, but, apparently, you and Monoma had your own inside jokes and memories to reminisce about.

At the end of the conversation, Monoma even asked for your contact information so you could keep in touch, and you happily obliged. It did leave a bitter taste in Sero’s mouth to see you eagerly type your number in on his phone, but he kept quiet on the way back to the agency.

What broke the camel’s back was when Sero was on his break, after you went home, mindlessly scrolling through his phone when he saw a picture of you, him, and Monoma on a shitty gossip website. You looked so happy talking with Monoma in the picture, as Sero stood behind you, only half of his body in the frame.

It made his blood boil.

“Yeah, it was nice to see someone from school,” you answer, folding a T-shirt, “someone that isn't from our friend group, that is.”

“Especially him, right?” He kicked his shoes off, crossing his ankles.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, you used to go out with him a lot “

You snort, “Please, it was one date. He was late and it was super awkward. Remember how I kept avoiding him and then you and Bakugou had to scare him away?” You laugh, fond of the memories.

“I remember you being giddy about going out with him.”

You pause. “Are you jealous?”

Sero hesitates for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. “No.”

“Oh my god, you are!” You bark out a laugh, throwing your head back, “that's new.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. His annoyance grows by the second and he can’t even look at you right now. You walk to him, and go around your bed, patting his head in a condescending way.

“Aw, don't worry about it, you know you're the only one who can make me come.”

“Me and Kaminari apparently,” he mumbles, referring to last week when you and him had some fun with Kaminari at his apartment.

“Oh, here we go again,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “if I knew it was going to be a problem, I wouldn't have gone along with it.”

“You even squirted all over him!” He hops off the bed to face you better.

“Hanta…” you sigh again, “where is this coming from? I thought you were okay with it–”

“I was, until you started moaning to him, like a whore –”

As soon as the word left his mouth, your hand made contact with his face in a hard slap. You were always quicker than him, your reflexes sharper than his. He stares at you dumbfounded, mouth agape. You stare back, pupils dilated and a deep frown between your eyebrows.

“What the fuck–”

You don’t get to finish as Sero’s mouth is suddenly on yours, his hands cupping your face as he forces his tongue inside your mouth. You used all your strength to push him away and stare back at him for a moment, before kissing him back, giving in to him. The kiss isn’t like the sweet or heated ones you’ve exchanged before. It’s a fight for domination, to see who’s angrier at the other.

It’s a clash of teeth, biting of lips, as Sero reaches for the hem of your shirt and hastily pulls it over your head. You reach for the back of his suit, trembling hands looking for the invisible zipper that would give you access to him; you pull it down his shoulders as you both fall back into the mattress, him on top of you.

Sero kneels on the bed, quickly pulling your shorts down and undressing his suit right after. His toned body comes to view and you salivate at the sight, wanting to lick down his torso and give him the best blowjob of your life. You’re still angry at him, so you hold yourself back, even when he’s on top of you again, mouth on your neck, hand in your hair. He sinks his teeth on the soft flesh right under your ear, making you let out a cry. He’s never been this rough with you, it’s definitely a new sight. You’re not sure if you dislike it completely.

Before you realize, Sero flips you over, having you on your stomach, and pulls your hips up. You’re on your fours now, completely bare to him, but you face the full body mirror you have in front of your bed. Your hair is all messy from Sero’s tugs and your lips are swollen and full from his rough kisses. Your eyes meet his in the reflection, full of lust, as he sinks inside you, not giving time for you to catch your breath. He thrusts inside almost immediately, only pausing to press his chest to your back, and tangle his fingers on your hair. His lips touch your right ear as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror.

“You like it when I’m rough with you?” He says, still thrusting hard inside of you. You don’t respond, still trying to catch your breath from being impaled by his dick just moments ago. Sero pulls your hair even harder when you’re about to close your eyes, so you look back at him, “You like to be treated like a slut, don’t you?”

“Shut–”

“I saw your face when I called you a whore. It makes you horny.”

You hate it. You hate it that he’s right. You hate to admit, even to yourself, that when he called you a whore, you acted out on instinct, slapping him, but the word sent a wave of arousal to the middle of your legs. What made you even more turned on was the look in his eyes when you slapped him. His pupils dilated right after the initial shock.

“Shut up.” You push him away from you, making him lie back on the bed.

You lock eyes, tension crackling like static in the air; pushing him back almost roughly, you straddle his face, grabbing a fist full of his hair. Sero immediately grabs your hips and sinks his mouth on you, despite every cell of his body telling him not to give you the satisfaction. You throw your head back as he latches onto you, sucking and licking and rubbing just the way you like it. When you orgasm, your grip on his hair tightens and you ride his face with no shame.

Sero squeezes the flesh of your hips as you get off him, moving to sit on his cock. He glides in easily with you so wet and open for him and the position allows you to feel every inch of him. You try to control the twitches of your body, so overstimulated that you can barely move, but you do your best.

“Why were you jealous today?” You breathe out as you bounce on his cock, using his chest for support. Sweat drips down your nose onto his forehead as you stare intensely into his eyes. When he doesn’t respond, you slap your hips on his, making him let out a moan. “Why, Hanta?”

“Shit, fuck!” He curses, eyes closed and fingers digging into your skin. You know he’s close, but you wish he was closer because your legs are burning and you feel them giving in. “Fuck, angel, it’s because I love you!”

You stop, eyes wide and heart beating fast. Sero opens his eyes, widening them.

“You love me?” You ask, gasping for air.

“I have to go.”

“What?!” You’re confused now, as he’s still inside you.

Sero pushes you away from him, quickly pulling his suit up as he tries to step into his shoes. You stare at him, dumbfounded and speechless as he makes his way to the bedroom window. Before you realize, he’s gone without a word.

And you’re sitting on the bed, still naked and sweaty, words sinking in.

Your best friend loves you back.

@lousypotatoes @shoyosdoll @fresa-luna @crazyvalerie1236 @siillkie @jeanbabygirl @bookcluberror

operation ‘lover’ // hanta sero smau

fem!reader. no quirk au. bnha college au.

a/n: had a completely different idea when i first storyboarded this, i don’t even know how we got here 😭

you had a deal with your dad: stay at the top, stay unemployed. but when he randomly flips the script, you have to find a job, and fast. when your best friend suggested becoming a tutor to get your dad off your back, and for some spare cash, you thought it was worth a shot. being in the top 5% of your class would make this job easy; but who you were tutoring would not.

prologue. | part 2. (soon!)

part 1.

the large sigh that came from the other side of the room caught your attention immediately. shinso was staring dead at the wall in front of him, his phone thrown to the other side of his small bed.

“you good?” you asked him, putting your assigned book for class down in your lap.

“i think we should find you something else to do.” his eyes never left the wall. “or fuck it, i’ll even talk to your dad. this tutoring thing isn’t going to work.”

“what’s stuck up your ass?” your brows furrowed as you kept a close eye on him. shinso was prone to mood swings. god he had them all the time. but this might have been the first time you had seen him genuinely pissed off in a while. usually he snapped out of it quickly, but now it seemed that he didn’t want to leave it behind until he’d done something about it.

“i don’t know why i even went along with your idea.” his eyes still glued to the wall. you rolled your eyes and stood from where you were sitting, moving to block his view of the wall he had become so fond of.

“words, toshi. they’re very important. you have to use your big boy words and tell me what happened.” your hands we’re on your hips as you spoke to him as if he were a child. he finally looked up at you through his lashes, a scowl permanently etched on his face.

“god, they’re all assholes. every single one of them.” he leaned up, removing his back from where it been against the head board behind him. “what is your dad going to do if you don’t find a job?”

“i literally have no idea but i’m going to assume the worst.”

“what would ‘the worst’ be?” shinso had moved himself to the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him.

“i dunno, like, making me come home or something?” you said, your tone becoming ever more inquisitive. “he didn’t tell me. why?”

“my team. they’re a bunch of ridiculous morons who think it’s funny to be dicks.”

“shinso, if you’re worried about me being able to take care of myself, i promise you, i will be fine.” this wasn’t the first time shinso had tried to take control of something you had going on. that’s part of the reason you loved him being your friend; he was able to make hard decisions for you that you couldn’t. unfortunately, sometimes it was just annoying. his chill demeanor had a hard time at hiding his anxious tendencies, and right now it shone through like a flashlight in the fog.

hitoshi stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite discern. he let out a sigh and took a second to think. he knew you could handle your own things, you’d been doing it pretty well since he met you. he hadn’t expected to get close with you when you reached out to him in middle school, but since he did, his attachment to your friendship was something he prioritized above all else. he hated the idea that you thought he saw you as helpless when that was the exact opposite. he trusted you, he didn’t trust them.

“i know you’ll be fine. i’m not worried about you. i mean i am, but i’m more worried about what ever fucked ideas those weirdos have.” he had been friends with the guys on his team for long enough to know that when you put them all in the same room, someone was bound to end up dead because of their stupidity, and that was something he didn’t want you to be subjected to. the smile that appeared on your face did a bad job at calming his nerves.

“tosh, they’re boys, what do you expect. trust me, if one of them decides to be weird then i’ll take care of it.” you laughed in spite of the tension ruminating from shinso’s rigid form. “it’s just a tutoring job. it’s not like they’ll be up my ass 24/7. i’ll see them maybe once a week.”

“okay then we’re making a deal.” he said as he stood from the bed, now eye level with you. he stuck his hand out and looked at you expectantly. oh he was serious. this was something you two had been doing since your friendship began. when one of you really wanted something from the other, a hand was shook, and a deal was made. not once in the 6 years you and him had been friends, had a deal been broken. there was this unspoken loyalty that hung between the two of you that made it hard to waver the trust you had in each other. if he wanted a deal, then he would get a deal. you clasped your hand in his and squeezed tightly.

“i want you to steer clear of a couple of them, okay?” he raised his eyebrows at you and you nodded in response.

“okay, which ones? they bad or something?” you asked.

“not bad, just fucking stupid, and you don’t have time for that.” he chuckled lightly to himself. “denki kaminari. he’s such a damn weirdo. i love the dude but i don’t trust that he won’t try something.” you nodded your head in response again. if he was really this worried then you obviously trusted his word.

“is there anyone else?”

“yeah.” shinso replied, his hand growing sweaty in yours. “hanta sero. he’s cool, but again, i don’t trust that he won’t try something.”

“yeah okay. i can do that.” you gave your friend a grin. “so does that mean no tutoring them?” you finally broke free from his grasp, wiping his sweat onto the leg of your sweatpants.

“if you want to tutor them i won’t stop you. money is money.” he flopped back onto his bed, his head feeling lighter now. “just don’t go hanging out with them outside of that.”

“it’s just a tutoring gig.” you sat back in your chair, the book you set down earlier now perched in your hands again. “i don’t plan on being best friends with them.”

a/n: my unhealthy obsession with shinso just keeps growing and i can’t get away. SOMEBODY SEDATE ME.

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@bakugouswh0r3

girl you've been running through my mind all day

roommates w/ hanta sero

moodboard + hc

being his roommate:

- definitely found out you needed a roommate through a friend of a friend. “heard you were looking for a hottie to live with?” “i’m joking i’m sorry. please i really need a place to live.”

- first week living together he went completely broke buying a playstation, and for two weeks after that he would send you texts along the lines of “hey so if i asked you to buy this for me would you want me dead, yes or no?” and if you EVER told him no: “okay so the answer is is yes, you do want me dead.”

- the first time you ever “talked” to his friends was when he forced you to play roblox with him and they were on the phone. by the end of the night, your stomach hurt so bad from laughing because sero actually SUCKS at roblox obbys. the moment he makes a single jump and lands it, he drops his phone and raises his fists in the air in celebration. every. single. time. on the other hand, sero is KILLER at the horror games on roblox. unfortunately denki on the other end of the phone always manages to fuck something up and sero always loses his damn mind, yelling and pointing at his phone as if kami is right there in front of him. “BRO MOVE. FUCKING MOVE.” “this is the THIRD TIME denki.” “i’m not gonna play anything with you ever again.” (they literally played 7 hours later)

- made you do ice breakers the first day moving in, elementary school style. favorite color, worst fear, favorite animal, etc. you guys sat crisscrossed in front of each other, on the floor of your bare and empty apartment. he literally would not let you move a single piece of your furniture until he knew “who you were” because he didn’t want to “move in with a stranger”.

- once you two were comfortable enough (which didn’t take long AT ALL. 2 weeks TOPS) he was never in his own room. bed rotting phone time? yeah, he was in your bed. he needed to vent? sprawled out on your floor as you pretended to pay attention. there were times when you came home from being out to find him making himself at home in your room.

- one of his favorite things to do to you was stress you out. he’d learned to space it out pretty well so he could make sure you believed his antics each time. one of his favorite pranks he ever pulled was calling you to tell you that he had been hit by someone on a bike in the parking lot outside y’all’s apartment. when you practically ran to the front door, you opened it to see him laughing his ass off at the fact that you even believed him. you immediately shut the door in his face and locked him out and he spent the next 30 minutes texting you with messages like “bae please i’m sorry” “IM ON MY KNEES PLEASE LET ME IN” “i miss you…😢”

- LOVED springing impromptu “date days” (that’s what he called them) on you. the amount of times you would get a text from him saying “guess what we’re doing😁” and it spanned from him impulsively buying six flags tickets, to signing you both up for a zumba class because he saw a random flyer in the men’s restroom. and of course you went with him every time (you had no choice).

- insanely huge fan of night drives. if you and him hadn’t seen each other very much that day, he would peek in your room to suggest driving around. you were never one to refuse. the both of you had a blended playlist (that he FORCEDDD you to make with him day 1 just to “see if you were compatible”) that would blast through the speakers, but the two of you were always louder than the music because scream singing in his car was a must.

- he figured out pretty quickly that he loved when you played with his hair. it started a random night when you silently and mindlessly braided his hair, his head in your lap, as you watched a tv show you both started on a whim. he fell asleep so fast. since then, any time he wanted to wind down he would ask you to play with his hair. “i need your hands on my head” is how he always phrased it and every time you would raise an eye brow at him. “okay stop it freak, you know that’s not what i mean.” and within 10 minutes he was OUT every single time.

- did NOT like sharing you with his friends. “they just don’t know you like i do.” “yeah because i don’t know them…” “exactly and we’re gonna keep it that way.” on days where he would drag you along to a hang out with the guys, he was always at the ready to smack denki upside the head if he was one step out of line.

- he was quick to pick up on girl talk and include himself in literally EVERY conversation you had with your friends. he loved to act out scenes to really get the image of the situation. “okay now imagine i’m that bitch you hate having a shift with.” and if you didn’t say what he thought you should have: “god, we have to switch because you’re so ass at this.” “no the correct response would be to get in her face and say her teeth are crooked and she needs a new dentist. try again.”

- board game nights were absolutely essential to a healthy roommate environment. the first time you ever declined a board game night, he put a speaker outside your bedroom door blaring evanescence at max volume until you gave in. his favorite to play was headbands: act it out edition because he said “you move like a monkey when we play this game” and he loved having an excuse to laugh at you.

- the two of you constantly passed out on the couch together. you spent most of your nights eating together while talking over a show in the background, and it always ended with him sprawled out on top of you, drooling on your stomach. unfortunately, he was a really hard sleeper and wouldn’t wake up unless you pushed him off the couch and onto the floor, but 8 times out of 10, you just fell asleep with him. if he woke in the morning before you did, he would carry you to your bed and situate the both of you under the covers, falling back asleep until you eventually woke up.

- if you EVER went on a date or showed interest in another human being, he would NEVER let it go. “your new boyfriend gonna move in with us soon?” and he would be like that even if you just mentioned thinking someone was cute. if you were out on a date, best believe you would come back home to him patiently waiting on the couch, immediately on your ass the second you’re in the door. “are they as cool as me?” “be honest, should i just go ahead and kill myself?” “this lowkey feels like you just stabbed me 17 times in the stomach but it’s fine. i don’t even care.”

- he was a sucker for a tiktok trend. “y/n can we do this?” “isn’t that a trend that couples do?” “we’re literally married, what are you talking about.” he would find a new trend nearly every day and add it to a folder called “time to turn up” and if there was a ever a day you were both free, that was the first thing y’all did.

- an absolute sucker for cuddling and he would typically be the little spoon, which you never complained about. on days where you weren’t feeling your best, mentally or physically, he was always right there. if he found you rotting away in your room, he never left. “scooch it.” he would try to forcefully let himself into your space, and if you wouldn’t budge: “cmon babe, you gotta work with me here” and you were always quick to give in because you knew he meant well. these were typically the times he would set aside the title of little spoon and give it to you for however long you needed it.

- he loved to bring home treats, whether it be food or not, and have it ready for you when you came home. “yeah i was out today and saw that and thought of you.” “i figured you’d need a sweet treat when you got home.” and it was always something either incredibly stupid or insanely thoughtful, no in between.

- arguments never lasted long in your apartment. sero was stubborn but he knew when to call it quits and would usually just agree to disagree with you, even if he KNEW you were right. in moments where you refused to talk with him after the fact, he would send you videos he had saved on instagram that he knew would make you laugh every time. “oh come on, you love me too much to stay mad at me.” “want me to kiss you and make it all better?” and usually he would force a kiss on your cheek while you tried to fight him off.