Soulmate - Blog Posts

Wow.... 👮👥👤💂👯

Catharsis (DemiGod!Bakugou x Soulmate!Reader)

Here I Am! Another Collab. Another Baku.

This is a piece for the mythological au for the bnharem collab for august! 

The other works can be read here

This is NSFW content, so if you’re a minor, please DNI.

Warnings: Sexual Content, Death, Google Searches, Mentions of Murder, Actual Murder but not graphic at all.

I hope you enjoy! 

thanks to @katsukeen​ for cheering me on! thanks @kingexpl0sionmurder​ for listening to me ramble about this and writing with me in sprints, and also a thanks to @andypantsx3​ for reading it and loving it (if you haven’t read any of these wonderful humans work then you are missing out, go do it now, after you read this.)

WC: 7.25K

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I think my fortune cookie just told me I was gonna find my soulmate...

ᥥ⑅ᥥ soulmate au, mention of death

soulmate au,

but instead of "soulmate" it says the name of the person who's going to kill you / you're going to die for, but that name can also mean the person who's going to spend the last seconds of your life with you. meeting them before death is avoidable, but death cannot be avoided.

imagine: it's the first time you meet a dirty teenager who killed his owner, who resembles a wild animal that needs to be cleaned up properly, like a small animal trapped in a trap — but this is the one whose name is on your arm, and you know for sure that it's him.

(bonus points: your name is written on his hand, but AVENTURINE doesn't know because you use a pseudonym instead of your real name.)

Soulmate AU

Where your soulmate and you spark (it feeels like joy, it doesn’t hurt) when you touch the first time. It’s enough to clearly be seen, but only is about the size of their palms.

The sparks return even more intensely when the two are completely in love and the relationship is healthy. The sparks cover wherever you touch.

The longer you have the spark, the better you get at controlling them, bc always having sparks is like bragging. Being able to surge sparks at will takes at least 5 years of practice to master.

TRUTH UNTOLD - by Joud Aburashed

I have so much to say But the world might decay Fear hurts not as much as regret  So I sharpen my sword ready to strike For my words are a weapon filled with might I look into the eyes of those souls Who were taught to keep their words behold Reassurance floods as for me I'm bold This is a new chance For righteousness to breed and enhance  Something weighs on my shoulder  It burns like ice yet even colder  So I release Finally feeling relief  This wasn't a war  This was for peace  For what is most valuable to me My morals that run glee So speak up for what you believe  You might feel relief 

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

 Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

:(

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. “I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

 “You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

God, just give me a person I can talk about things like...

Anime/Manga

Art/writing

Games

YouTube

Memes

Movies

Fandoms: Star Trek , etc

Understands disabilities on some level

And they don't even *have* talk, just listen and understand my bs

Basically give me my soulmate for the love of all things holy.

Hey. How about a soulmate AU where instead of eyes meeting for the first time, the world lights up with colour when you first see a genuine, joyful smile on your soulmates face.

Fake smiles would not work. Because when you are comfortable enough around another to show a genuine smile, it means that they have your trust.

Imagine couples knowing each other for years but never knowing they are soulmates because they have only given each other fake smiles.

Imagine someone meeting their soulmate and the world lighting up, only to not be able to return their smile.

Imagine someone peering through a train window to see a stranger smile. The world becomes colourful but the train keeps moving and they pass each other by.

Imagine bitter enemies caught in the middle of a fight and one makes a joke. The other can’t help laughing and the world lights up.

Omg could I get 12 with Vanderwood pls pls!!

Yes absolutely! This will be my first piece about Vandy so I'm a little nervous but you got it!

I freaking LOVE this. This needs to become a TV show.

I found him. I found my soulmate. Behold my idiot as he spazzes into the sunset. 

Shinkami Week Day 2!!!

This prompt was soulmates, so I drew the classic soulmate trope where they see color for the first time when they see each other! :)

Also ik Kami usually wears leather jackets and tshirts and stuff but I wanted him to get to wear a comfy oversized sweater this time XD

@shinkamiweek2021

Soulmate AU prompt

Okay idk if this has been made already

But like when you first touch your soulmate color blooms on the skin and stays where you first touch. Y’all know that au already. But

What if it’s villain vs hero and the villain has the hero pinned down ( not skin on skin) and the hero is desperate to get free but the villain just cups their cheek and says “ poor poor hero” or something and color blooms on the hero’s cheek and the villain just freezes.

Soulmates

word count: 8339

Fandom: IRL!MCYT Pairing: Dream x Male!Reader              Sapnap x Male!Reader              GeorgeNotFound x Male!Reader Pronouns: He/Him Relationship: Romantic Occupation: College Student                      Professional Skateboarder                      Traveler Ability: N/A

Keys:

[M/N]: Male Name [H/C]: Hair Color [E/C]: Eye Color [S/C]: Skin Color

Warnings: n/a

“Soulmates” pt.2

Soulmate AU: When both soulmates look into a mirror at the same time, they see their soulmate’s reflection.

word count: 2659

DreamWasTaken:

It was one of those rare occasions where Dream was streaming on his twitch account and it wasn’t for MCC, it was just some casual talking with his friends and fellow twitch streamers as they played Minecraft. No lore or challenges, just simply playing around in either survival or creative mode, it was entertaining nonetheless because it was Dream after all. [M/N] was one of those in the audience that was very entertained, watching his stream on one of his monitors while another monitor displayed his work that had to be finished. [M/N]’s attention kept drifting away from what he was supposed to be doing before eventually giving up and putting his full attention on the stream, a smile worked its way to his face at the sound of Dream’s iconic wheeze laughter when Quackity cracked a joke.

“Hey~ while we’re on the topic of Dream’s nonexistent love life,” Quackity started, snickering when he heard Dream let out a shout ”Let’s talk about soulmates!” he cheered, this earned many people in each of their chats to agree, even the others in the Discord call agreed. Soulmate; a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. It was quite a common occurrence in this world, each person had a different way to find their ideal partner that was meant to be theirs ever since they were born, but the thing that made each person different was that many people had different ways to find their soulmates. Some had the iconic “Red String of Fate”, some had more complicated ones like “having the first letter of their name” on your wrist, and the lucky few who had “timers” located on their wrist.

[M/N] was one of the unfortunate few who had no clue how he was supposed to find his soulmate, he could see colors perfectly, he had a perfectly normal physical appearance and he couldn’t hear any voices ringing in his head, not even marks. He was often teased by his peers and sometimes his family over the thought of him being alone forever; that he was destined to never find his soulmate or that he never had a soulmate, to begin with. He often detested conversations regarding the subject but spoke to not be rude, when asked how he was supposed to find his soulmate... he’d lie through his teeth. It always did hurt that he didn’t know how or who his possible other half was but as he grew older and older, he slowly began losing hope of ever finding a soulmate.

”Soulmates, huh? Has anyone found their soulmate yet?” George asked halfheartedly, grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip, he lets out a refreshed sigh as he places it down before looking into his camera ”Hey chat, how have you been able to find your soulmates? I wanna hear some stories.” Karl lets out a giggle, nodding his head as he looked over at his own chat.

”Same here! I’ve heard some really cute stories.” [M/N]’s interest immediately deteriorates and for some odd reason he was able to focus on his work once more, he pushed through hearing them read out some people’s experience on finding their soulmates, it irritated him as he typed away at his bored, he could only hope that the conversation would stir away from that topic sooner rather than later.

”Enough of the cliché bullshit! I wanna hear some uncommon ones.” Dream says this caught the attention of many 

”I’ve read that there are some rather unique ways to find your soulmate in comparison to some boring ones like their name is on your wrist. Jesus, I want someones where you have no fucking clue who they are.” the chat for all of them went quiet for a couple minutes, all viewers thinking if they’ve got a unique one or not.

dilfking_ donated $10

i think i have one thats odd. this isn’t mine, but rather my cousin’s. he said that the way he was able to find his now current wife was when he looked in a mirror and there he saw her reflection instead of his own

”Mirror?” Sapnap questioned, leaning forward because he was quite intrigued by the story ”Wow... that really is odd! Yo, dilfking_, jesus, you so far take the cake on this one.” Karl let out an ooo sound, clapping his hands.

”Hey, since it’s so uncommon, why don’t we all pull out some mirrors and look into them, hmm? Including the viewers, maybe they might find their soulmate.” [M/N]’s fingers paused from what they were doing, hovering over his keyboard as he listened to his favorite streamers agree, some getting up so they could pull out a mirror. His gaze dampened a little, he was getting desperate by the second and his mind was debating whether or not he should do it as well... ah, what the hell? He lets out a sigh as he pushed himself back a little and there he saw his full body mirror leaning against his wall, what are the chances he’ll actually find his soulmate? There are two outcomes that could occur.

1. he sees himself and he just wasted his time and got his hopes high for absolutely no reason.

2. he actually sees his soulmate and he freaks the absolute fuck out.

If he gets either he’ll cry.

”Why don’t we all do it at the same time, yeah? I think that would make things even more interesting for us as well.” Dream suggested, Quackity laughs at the idea as he claps his hands.

”Ooo, I like that idea very much! If Dream finds his soulmate, they’ll be the first person to see his face in his entire fanbase and they’ll know just how ugly you really are.” Dream rolls his eyes at that as he laughs.

”Oh, come on now. I assure you, I’m actually quite attractive.” this earned him a huff from Sapnap.

”As much as I want to disagree with you, I can’t help but confirm that he is a very sexy man.” now that got them all to laugh, even [M/N] couldn’t help but snicker at that, but just what are the chances someone would be lucky enough to be paired with him through this way? [M/N] would be lucky to get anyone.

“Way to lighten the mood.” he hummed softly, George pats his desk before waving his hands.

”I hope you all have gotten your mirrors ready because we’re about to see if we can find our other half in three... two... one!” at the final countdown, everyone that was participating looked into their mirrors. [M/N] was still very hesitant before he let out a deep breath and leaned back once more to look at his mirror, however, what he saw was different from the last time he glanced at it. He nearly fell out of his chair when he didn’t see his reflection, instead, he saw the reflection of someone completely different that looked just as equally surprised as he was. Gorgeous dirty blonde hair and a noticeable stubble with a unique shade of green eyes, he wasn’t wearing anything extravagant, only a hoodie and some sweats along with a headset, and yet despite the casual attire, this stranger was quite attractive.

For the person in the mirror, he was just as shocked as [M/N] was. He wasn’t really expecting to see anything other than his own reflection, but imagine his surprise when he saw someone elsewhere his reflection was supposed to be. This attractive man has short/long [H/C] hair with [E/C] eyes that just seemed to suit him quite well, he was wearing casual attire but instead, he wore a shirt and a pair of shorts. The two of them continued to stare at each other, not even realizing that they were even doing that until he noticed that [H/C] male started tearing up before letting his head drop a little but his hand came up to catch his head.

“So you’re real...” [M/N] muttered to himself, hand pressed to his forehead as his tears slowly started falling from his eyes “After all this time, you were actually real.” the stranger on the other side of the mirror couldn’t hear what he was saying, he could only see him, it felt like he was on mute and it irritated him that he wasn’t able to comfort his soulmate.”Hey Dream, why’d you go quiet all of a sudden?” Karl questioned, Quackity lets out a laugh as he leans back in his seat.

”What? Did you find your soulmate or something?” he jokes, he expected Dream to laugh with him but was only given silence as a response. He laid in his chair for a couple seconds before sitting up straight, leaning into his mic as he stared at his camera ”Dream? Why aren’t you answering me, you son of a bitch?” he heard the other stutter out noises before finally giving him a verbal response.

”I actually did...” he murmured softly, [M/N]’s eyes widened when he heard Dream speak, whipping his head around to look at the stream ”Huh? He’s looking at something now.” [M/N] was in utter disbelief as he looked back over at his soulmate, his heart thumping against his chest when he heard Dream through the stream say that his soulmate was looking at him again. [M/N] was having a mental crisis. Not only was he actually able to find his soulmate, but he was that lucky motherfucker that got the Dream, the famous YouTuber and Twitch streamer known for his crazy Minecraft plays, as his soulmate!

“Holy shit.” was all he could say, a soft blush rose to his cheeks when he heard Dream laugh.

”I think they just swore, aw~ do you find me that attractive?” he cooed, not really expecting to get a response, but was thoroughly surprised when he saw [M/N] nod his head ”Wait, can you hear me?” [M/N] nods his head once more, he then perks up as he looks around his desk for something, when he finds it he grabs it before scribbling on it and presenting it to Dream.

‘I’m actually watching your stream right now.’ it read, [M/N] chuckled softly when he noticed Dream squinted his eyes as he read the message, his eyes drifting off for a couple seconds before he jerks back in surprise.

”So wait-- fuck, Sapnap called it.” he hears Sapnap let out a cheer, Dream slaps a hand onto his face before dragging it down his face, even though he couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t help but flush a little at the sight of [M/N] bursting out into laughter “No fair, you can hear me, but I can’t hear you. Plus, you already know my name, can I have yours?” the others in the Discord lean forward, rather interested in the fact that Dream managed to find his soulmate, much to their dismay.

“How cute~” he cooed softly, he tears the page off, crushing it into a ball before throwing it into a bin. With a fresh new page, he thinks for a bit before writing down what he wanted then showing Dream his message. At first, he read the first part then paused a little, he sat there for a couple seconds before muting himself.

”Hey, Dream, where did you go? Dream?” they all let out groans when they realized that Dream wanted to see what it said, muting himself in case he accidentally reads it out loud.

’Hi Dream, I’m a really big fan and I’m quite shocked to know that you’re my soulmate. I always thought that I didn’t have one, but I’m so glad that I do. I was quite lonely because I was never sure if I was ever going to find my soulmate, so thank you for the reassurance. Also, thanks for the sneak peek, by the way, you really are a sexy man. From yours truly, [M/N].’ when he noticed Dream had finished reading it, he lowered it and waited anxiously for his reaction. Now that he couldn’t hear him anymore, he was even more worried, he twiddled with his fingers then perked up when he noticed Dream laugh. Dream rummaged through his own desk before pulling out a notebook, scribbling down his reply then showing it to him.

’Hi [M/N], I’m quite glad that you’re a fan of mine, if not we probably would’ve never been able to see each other, huh? Don’t go blabbering about what you know to others, okay? I’m still planning my big face reveal, so no spoilers. Plus, you’re quite attractive as well. I believe I scored big time.’ Dream smiles when he noticed [M/N] grow flustered, pressing a hand to his temple as he tried to suppress his grin but ultimately failed. Dream noticed [M/N] soon rise to his feet as he approached the mirror, so he did the same thing, there they both noticed small little details they couldn’t see from where they were sitting. The former pouted softly when he noticed that the latter was just a couple inches taller than him and was a bit more muscular while his [S/C] skin was a bit tanner, for [M/N], he noticed that Dream had freckles scattered across his face and though he was wearing a hoodie, he noticed some more dancing along his neck.

The two continued to stare at each other before [M/N] raised his hand and pressed it against the glass, Dream didn’t hesitate to follow suit and pressed his hand where his hand was, the both of them smiling softly when they could just feel a soft warmth beneath the palms of their hands. To them, it was quite comforting that they were finally able to find their other half.

Headcanons:

dream immediately ended the stream and left the discord call. [m/n] felt a tad bit guilty for killing everyone’s joy but he was a little touched that dream dropped everything so he could talk a little to him.

they exchanged numbers and discord usernames so they could privately chat amongst each other, it was genuinely quite fun.

sometimes [m/n] would hear sapnap in the background screaming at him to stop talking to him and hangout, to which he would be ignored in favor of talking to him even more.

dream wanted to visit him or for [m/n] to come visit him, but realized the exact distance between each other.

[m/n] resided in hawaii, explaining why most of the time dream always sounded so tired whenever they chatted (florida is five hours ahead of hawaii)

other than that, dream would mostly flaunt about how he was able to find his soulmate.

cue quackity saying it was his idea to talk about soulmates.

cue george saying it was his idea to ask the chat their stories.

he ignored them.

[m/n] was later invited to their discord, much to his excitement because he was still quite a fan to the dsmp.

[m/n] would often laugh when he would hear sapnap saying how dnf was now dead thanks to the fact that dream was now taken and all his love and attention was now directed a him.

at least dream shut up about george now.

when [m/n] decides to visit dream, he would keep it a secret and would surprise him. though, he would tell sapnap the plan and the guy would hands down drop everything to help him.

sapnap quite liked [m/n].

when [m/n] was in florida, sapnap would smuggle him into dream’s room and when the latter does appear in his room, he would tackle the poor man to the ground and embrace him. 

the both of them would feel a type of warmth swell in their chest and as they laid their on the floor, dream would push himself off the ground so he could finally kiss the lips of the man destined to be his.

Soulmate AU: A tattoo that represents their soulmate is on their body and it blooms/grows when they meet.

word count: 2448

Sapnap:

“Karl, what the fuck man?” [M/N] murmured to himself, glancing at his phone that was pressed to his ear in confusion. His younger cousin, Karl Jacobs, was currently on the phone with him as he sat in the skate park with a couple of his friends, he was currently sitting down with his feet hanging over the edge of the cradle, board beside him as he watched other skaters go by but his attention was fully on his cousin on the other line.

”Oh, come on! I’ve told him about you and he’s been dying to meet you, mostly because he wants to show off how good he is at skating.” [M/N] hummed at that, hmph, sure. [M/N] was a professional skateboarder who’s performed in many skateboarding competitions, winning his fair share and even being lucky enough to be sponsored by MrBeast, courtesy of Karl.

“I thought you two lived in different states?” he said, giving his friend a death glare when tried kicking his board down the cradle, only for him to react quick enough to move it away then flip them off.

”You clearly don’t look at social media, do you?” he only rolled his eyes in response to that ”He came from Florida to meet up with me, we’ve done a couple things and I mentioned visiting the skate park you always go to. He seemed to remember that in a passing conversation and asked if you would be there.”

“My fame is nothing in comparison to yours, Karl. Why does he want to meet me so bad?”

”... he’s a fan?” [M/N] purses his lips, face drawn a blank as he leans back in where he’s sitting, he hums in thought before shrugging his shoulders.

“Well, alright. I don’t understand why he’s a fan of mine, I’m not that popular.” he could tell that Karl waved his hand to dismiss him.

”On the contrary, cous, you are popular. Remember who’s sponsoring you?” he pulls a face at that, right ”Since I’ve been given the go too, I’ll see you in a couple hours, okay? Don’t bail on me now.” [M/N] rolled his eyes at the playful tone in Karl’s voice.

“I won’-- hey! Fucker, give my board back!” Karl winced, pulling the phone away from his ear when he heard [M/N] start cursing from his side of the line. He starts laughing when he could hear his cousin screaming at his friends for stealing his board and skating away from him, he hears [M/N] growl before bringing the phone back up ”I’ll see you when I see you, right now I need to beat some ass.” Karl snorts.

“Alright, don’t commit murder.”

”No promises.” with that he hung up, Karl jokingly rolled his eyes before glancing over at where Sapnap was, to which the latter had an excited grin on his face as he bounced up and down on the couch like a child on christmas day.

“So, what did he say?” he eagerly asked, standing up and approaching his taller friend.

“He agreed, but we might want to be quick because I think he might take a life.” this caused Sapnap to look up at Karl in a confused manner. Sapnap, the mighty Texan man and skater boy, was in disbelief when he learned that Karl Jacobs was related to the renowned skateboarder, his cousin to be exact and that they were really close. He bombarded Karl with questions because he wanted to know so much about him, being one of his biggest fans, he found watching him compete in competitions so thrilling and exciting he feels his heart skip a beat each time he sees him perform tricks for beginners to complex tricks for pros. His mind soon drifted off to a time when [M/N] won a competition and was doing an exclusive interview, the topic? Soulmates.

”Soulmates?” he questioned, everyone, watching whether in person or in the comforts of their homes, couldn’t help but be curious to his answer ”Well, finding my soulmate isn’t particularly my main priority. I think it’ll be great if we meet, but I’m not in any rush to find them.” the interviewer nods their head.

”I see. But, do you know the method to find your soulmate?” [M/N] nods his head, for context, he had stripped his shirt off because the blistering hot sun was shining down on them all but after performing all those tricks under it and the pressure, he took his shirt off to cool himself a little. Back to the topic at hand, there, he pointed at flame tattoos that started at his left shoulder that spread up to the bottom side of his neck, took up the left side of his collar bones, and traveled down his arm a bit but stopped at his bicep ”The moment I meet my soulmate, my tattoo will spread further along my body and my soulmate will have a tattoo similar to my own personality.” people in the crowd clapped their hands.

”Wow, such a unique way to find his soulmate.”

“I’m jealous.”

“The tattoo looks cool on him.”

“His soulmate makes him look even cooler.”

Watching that interview gave Sapnap hope that he was his, mostly because he had the same type of way of finding his soulmate as [M/N], but that could purely be a coincidence... he hoped not. The tattoo he had was on his back, it started from the right side of his back and it seemed to be a flower of sorts that was going to bloom but traveling down his back and nearly covering his entire back was vines coming out of the flower-filled with thorns. By the time Sapnap’s thoughts came back he realized that he was sitting in the passenger seat of Karl’s car as he drove to the skate park where [M/N] currently was committing first-degree murder.

“Should I watch what I say?” Karl rolled his eyes at that.

“No, he’s one of the most vulgar people I’ve ever met, even more, vulgar than Tommy.” that caught Sapnap by surprise “He acts polite when he needs to be, but behind closed doors, he’ll curse like a sailor. Though he’s attentive when the time comes.”

“Attentive?”

“You should see him with my cat, one time he came to my house just to take my cat. I swear.” he nods his head at that.

“Okay.” it didn’t take long for them to arrive at the skate park, Sapnap was a little nervous and it showed by the way he was huddled to himself with his board in his hand as he followed closely behind Karl, who smiled and greeted the local skaters who recognized him as [M/N]’s cousin.

“Yo, Karl’s here!”

“Hey, Karl!”

“Who’s your friend there?” a few people asked, said man grinned as he pats Sapnap’s back and pushes him forward slightly.

“A friend of mine, who’s also a fan of [M/N].” one of them laughed, kicking his board up before pointing behind him.

“If you’re looking for him, he’s back there. We had to stop him from sending the guys to the hospital after they stole his board, you know how he sees that fucking board as a child.” this caused Karl to roll his eyes once more.

“That’s because it was custom made... and was also a gift from me.” he muttered the last part to himself, feeling a little touched that his cousin treasured it, he remembered the first time he saw [M/N] use the board in one of his competitions and he was absolutely over the moon. They all go over to where [M/N] was and there they saw him, Sapnap watched in awe when [M/N] performed a kickflip onto some railings, effortlessly grinding on them before landing on the ground and casually skating around. Karl goes to call him out but they all pause, watching as he skated over to where another railing that kept the skate park gated from the water on the other side, there, when he got closer to the railings he jumped off his board and into the water “Wha the-- what the fuck?!” Sapnap was just as equally shocked but the other skaters merely laughed.

“The fuck did he do that for?” one of them shouts, the ones closest to where [M/N] was were laughing as they recorded what happened.

“We bet [M/N] wouldn’t do that, before saying that he ain’t no pussy and doing it.”

“That sounds like him.”

“Mm hmm.” a couple minutes past and [M/N] finally emerged from wherever he came from, he was laughing wholeheartedly as his friends gave him pats on the back, he then swiped away the money they bet on. They spoke amongst each other until they told him that his cousin and his friend were finally there and so [M/N] looked over at them, he offered them a smile followed by a wave before approaching them.

“Sapnap, calm down. I can feel your nervousness all the way from here.” Karl glanced down, letting out a soft sigh when he noticed that Sapnap was trembling from anxiousness as [M/N] got closer and closer.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t control it.” he had a gay panic when he saw Karl’s cousin reach down to grab the ends of his shirt before pulling it over his head, Karl rolled his eyes at how overdramatic that was while Sapnap was fighting everything just to keep his face from turning completely red. His eyes were looking down at his feet but he couldn’t help but steal glances at him, mostly at his tattoo that nearly covered his entire left side.

“Hey Karly, it’s been a while.” the taller of the two of them greeted, Karl huffed as he poked his chest.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” he snickers.

“It’s cute, and I know you like it.” he smiles when he noticed Karl was trying to fight down the grin that was threatening to spread across his face as small giggles came out of his mouth, he then dropped his shirt to the ground before leaning down slightly to wrap his broad arms around him to pull him into a hug “It’s good to see you, it’s been a while since the last time I got to see your ugly mug.” they both share a laugh as [M/N] put him down, this allowed Karl to smack his arm.

“You are you calling ugly?” he shakes his head before turning then raised his arm to gesture to Sapnap “This is the friend I was telling you about, his name is Nicholas, but he usually goes by Sapnap.” Karl moved so that he was standing beside his taller cousin, [M/N] looked down at him and noticed that the expression he wore was a mixture of excitement and anxiousness “He’s a big fan, by the way.” Karl whispered in his ear, this didn’t go unnoticed as Sapnap glared at him.

“Quit it, Karl!” [M/N] only laughed.

“A fan, huh? Well, I can’t help but be a fan of yours as well, Nicholas. I’ve watched a couple of Karl’s streams and other videos on YouTube and I’ve grown quite fond of your appearances.” he chuckled when he noticed that spurred a bit of a reaction out of him.

“Tha-- Thank you.” this action earned [M/N] another smack to his arm.

“Stop torturing the poor guy.”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.” he shook his head, not even answering him because he knew this was going to be a back and forward argument between the both of them, so he offered his hand towards Sapnap.

“Though you already know, my name is [M/N]. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nicholas, or should I call you Sapnap?” teasing him felt so fun, watching his face flush an even deeper shade of red, he then watched as Sapnap shakily reached for his hand to return the handshake,

“You can call me whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Alright, Nicholas.” the moment the two of them grasped each other’s hands, [M/N] felt a burning pain that spread from the left side of his torso and arm and traveled over to his right and now there was a symmetrical flaming pattern on both sides of his body. For Sapnap, he felt the thorns and vines on his back begin to cover his back as the flower bud bloomed into a gorgeous flower and other flower buds on the vines bloomed as well, littering his back with flowers and flower petals. Everyone stood in shock at what had happened, [M/N] glanced down at his chest and saw how the flames on his body spread the moment he shook Sapnap’s hand so he glanced down at the other and saw his face was completely read.

...

...

“What a revelation.” he murmured.

Headcanon:

the moment sapnap saw how it was him that caused his tattoos to grow even more, he quite literally fainted.

by the time he came down to earth, he noticed that he was laying down on a bench with [m/n] sitting by his side, using his hand fan his face to keep it cool.

[m/n] felt him shift so he glanced down and noticed how he was covering his face, he found it absolutely adorable so he didn’t hesitate to lean down and press his lips to the back of his hands.

his friends called him gay.

karl told him to get a room.

the next following days was [m/n] visiting karl’s house unannounced just so he could spend some time with his cute soulmate, to which he would flirt and tease with relentlessly.

karl would sometimes have to throw [m/n] out of the house because he would find it annoying whenever he would find his cousin making out with sapnap on the middle of the couch.

speaking of which, [m/n] would feel absolutely honored to be sapnap’s first kiss, he would make sure that their kiss was filled with some much love that the other would be craving him.

sapnap would try to fluster [m/n] with everything he had, but the other was just a professional and whenever he did attempt to do something, it would just come back and bite him in the ass.

sometimes literally.

other than that, cuddling with this beautiful specimen of a man is absolute paradise.

despite being taller and more muscular, [m/n] can’t help but be the little spoon between the two of them.

sapnap ain’t complaining, he quite enjoys the feeling of his arms wrapped around this much larger man as the other held him close.

these were the small moments these two loved to bask in.

Soulmate AU: The location of where they meet their soulmate appear at a certain time in their life and when they meet their soulmate they appear in the picture.

word count: 3232

GeorgeNotFound:

To George, the way he had to find his soulmate was exactly like GeoGuessr. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he held the polaroid picture within his hands, the picture held the location of where he would meet his soulmate and he could just recognize it as Miami Beach in Florida... he was dreading the thought that he was actually Dream's soulmate. He shook his head as he glanced at the other photos and noticed that they were all popular places within America, from Texas to Washington, even places out of American like France and Italy.

"They sure like to travel a lot." he muttered to himself, placing down another photo when he recognized the famous monument in the background. He groaned to himself when he realized that Dream lived in Orlando, which was a two to three-hour drive from Miami Beach, why did it have to be that far? He lets out a sigh as he tosses the photo down onto the table he was sitting at, leaning his cheek against his closed fist but he couldn't help but stare at the photo. His curiosity would eventually get the best of him once he gets to Florida but until then, he pushed it into the back of his mind as he collected each of the photos and put them away in a box for safekeeping.

Eventually, the thought of his soulmate slowly drifted out of his mind and he focused more on posting videos onto his YouTube and Twitch accounts to satisfy his viewers. However, when the due date for him to travel to America to visit his friends in real life started to preoccupy his thoughts, the thought of coincidentally meeting his soulmate at the same time couldn't help but make his pale skin turn a shade of red. Whenever that kept happening, he would pull out the box of blank photos and stare at them for hours on end, feeling a tug on his heart each time and feelings of excitement taking over his heart. He was getting rather eager to leave for America with each passing day, then soon that day finally came, he packed his things, the box of photos too, and hopped onto the next early flight to Florida.

"George!" he was a little flustered upon meeting Dream, this 6″3ft of a man who opened his arms wide and enveloped him in a long hug, managing to lift him up and swing him side to side. The two of them laughed when Sapnap came from behind them and hugged George from behind him, squeezing them both with the strength he had in his arms "You're finally here, I'm so happy." Dream cheered, Sapnap wore a similar expression as he released them from his side of the hug.

"Yeah, we have the spare room prepared and everything, all you need is to put your stuff in and you're all set." Dream nodded his head as he grabbed a couple of his bags, Sapnap doing the same.

"We'll even give you a hand." George scoffed with a laugh, rolling his eyes as he elbowed Dream in his side.

"Gee, thanks." they all share a laugh, they threw his luggage into the boot of their car before Dream took the wheel, Sapnap fighting George for the passenger seat, before taking off for Dream's house. When arriving, George was greeted with the sight of cute little Patches curled up in a ball on the couch, the younger duo laughed when they saw George shuffle over to where Patches was and so they left him to pet the cat while they brought his stuff to the spare room. Petting Patches felt like paradise, he was quite scared Dream's cat wouldn't like him but seeing her melt within the palm of his hand made him think otherwise.

"Hey, George!" he let out a groan, whining a little when Patches got up and sauntered away at the sound of Sapnap's shouting from upstairs "Give us a hand at unpacking your shit." now this caused him to react.

"Wait, hey! Don't touch my stuff!" he then heard laughter coming from the two before rushing upstairs, throwing the door open, there he saw the two looking through his suitcases "Man! You nosey dicks." he shouts, rushing over and swiping his things from them.

"We're just giving you a hand." he rolled his eyes, he helped them organize his clothes and other belongings he brought the way he wanted, he was in the middle of refolding one of his clothes when he heard Dream let out a hum.

"Hmm? Hey George, what's this?" he glanced over his shoulder and there he saw Dream opening the box full of photos, he sighed, shaking his head as he put the folded pants into the draw as he approached them.

"Jesus, don't you know curiosity killed the cat?" Sapnap scoffed, peeking over Dream's shoulder as he took one of the photos.

"And yet, satisfaction brought it back." Dream raised a brow.

"Wait, isn't this Miami Beach?" he questioned, taking a closer look at it, recognizing the shorelines of the beach "Yeah, it is! How do you have a polaroid photo of Miami Beach? I thought you said you've never been to America." he just waves his hand to dismiss the thought, snatching the photos back from them both and putting it back in the boat.

"That's because I haven't been to America, they're just the location of where I'm going to meet my soulmate." he casually answers, getting ready to put the box away but Dream took it out of his hands once more, taking out the same one he was eyeing and holding it above his head and out of his reach.

"Wait, your soulmate?!" Sapnap snatched it from Dream and eyed it, letting the taller male to sulk, he then laughs.

"Hah! DNF is officially dead." George just rolled his eyes.

"So dramatic." he takes it back once more but this time he eyed it for a good couple of seconds, not noticing the way Dream and Sapnap loomed over his shoulder to look at the photo.

"We can go find them, you know?" this caused George's face to turn red, bringing the photo close to his chest as he shook his head.

"N-No... we don't really need to." they both lean back and eye each other before wrapping an arm around his shoulder, causing him to let out a yelp when he was pulled back, he felt the two press their cheeks onto his as they grin at him.

"Oh, but we really do. We need to see if this chump is worthy of you."

"Mm hmm. Maybe we can invite Karl and Quackity to help." George sighs, but in all honesty, he quite appreciates it.

"Haa, sure." the plan to find his soulmate soon turned into a trip between them and the other two, a little road trip from Orlando to Miami. Sometimes the main objective as to why they were traveling to Miami would be thrown out the window by Sapnap and Dream because it was a road trip between their little group and even if they couldn't find his soulmate, they were going to enjoy themselves and have fun. The day to set out was when Quackity and Karl rocked up to Dream's place, they exchanged their happy greetings before jumping into the car and starting their three-hour trip from Orlando to Miami.

Dream was the first to drive, George in the passenger seat while Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl sat in the back, in that order. Most of the ride was George sitting in silence as he thought of countless scenarios in his head, what is he supposed to say when he meets them? Are they going to like him? How was he supposed to act with a complete stranger? How was he going to explain that he was their soulmate? He groaned as he buried his face into the palms of his hands, he was having a mental breakdown but the sound of his friend's encouragement managed to lift his spirits.

Just a bit.

"Damn, that was a long drive." Sapnap groaned out, placing his hands on the lower side of his back and leaning backward, letting out a sigh when he heard a crack. The others made noises of agreement, stretching their aching bodies as they filed out of the car and looked around. Quackity lit out a cheer, inhaling deeply through his nose to inhale the scent of the salty ocean water, grinning to himself when he felt the blistering sun shining down on him.

"But it's all worth it, don't you think?" Karl giggles to himself while nodding his head.

"Mm hmm, even if we don't manage to find them, we can still enjoy ourselves, right?" they all turn to George and saw he wasn't really listening, his attention back on the photo. Dream was the first to approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze, this caused the brit to finally raise his head to look up at his friend.

"We'll do our best to find them, okay? We won't stop until you want to, okay?" he slowly nods his head.

"Okay. Thanks for the help." they each give him a grin.

"Without a doubt, George!" he mirrors the expression they gave him before they left the parking lot, finding the location where the picture was taken was a hassle. They were at Miami Beach, a popular beach and a tourist attraction within Florida and finding that one specific spot from that photo was most likely going to take forever. Though, keeping to their word, half of the time they spent that day looking for his soulmate while the other was spent relaxing under the sun, playing in the water, and greeting a couple fans that recognized them... to which Dream sped off and jumped into a bush to hide since he hadn't really face revealed just yet and only left his house for moral support for George, also to meet the fucker who was his sou--

"This is taker forever." George groaned out, slapping his hands onto his face and dragging them down. He and the other four sat on beach chairs, each with a beverage in their hands while laying down, though George was the only one sitting up straight "What if we don't find him them?" Quackity rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up.

"You're being dramatic and impatient, Gogy. Plus, meeting your soulmate is all about fate. Finding them is all about luck... and it is a coincidence." with that, he flicked them back down before relaxing into his chair, Karl was the next to comment, raising his head and nonchalantly waving his hand.

"He's right. You can't rush the system." George rolls his eyes.

"You guys are enjoying this too much." he grumbles, he just sighs before standing to his feet and walking off, muttering that he needed some time to be alone. This time, he was walking around with no destination in mind, just simply letting his feet carry him to wherever they needed to go. The thought of never being able to find his soulmate was slowly beginning to plague his mind and negative thoughts were circulating within his thoughts, he pulled out the photo once more, his full attention on it as he continued to walk.

What if I can never find yo--

"Incoming!" he was startled at the shout, he raised his head, only to let out a shout when he was brought to the sandy ground when someone landed on top of him. If his day couldn't get any worse, it just did. His hand closed into a tight fist and so he goes to lash out at the person in front of him but paused when they were already on their feet, a look of guilt on their face as they extended their hand out to him "Ah, shit! I'm so sorry!"

"Nice going, dude!" a voice shouted from behind the stranger, to which an irritated took over his apologetic one as he turned his head around to shout and glare at the individual.

"Shut the fuck up! It's your fault for not being able to receive it properly! You didn't even score us a point!" the group behind him laughed as he just shook his head, he then looked back down at George once more and laughed nervously "I really am sorry about crashing into you, I just get pretty competitive when playing sports." George continued to stare at the hand extended out to him before hesitantly taking it.

"Don't worry about it." George was yanked to his feet, stumbling forward by the amount of force the other put into it, and that landed him in his chest. George grew flustered and pushed himself back, cursing himself with how easily his face flushed a shade of pink.

"Are you alright there?" he reached forward, noticing how his face turned pink that reached to the tips of his ears.

"I-I'm fine, I swear." though the other was still concerned, he nodded his head. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the adrenaline that was bursting throughout his entire body slowly begin to fade away and that awkwardness between strangers start to rise up, he wanted to start a conversation between himself and the rather pretty man before him, but before he could start, a volleyball was spiked into the back of his head that made his head jerk forward, this also caused George to gasp "Holy-- are you okay?" he shouts, reaching forward before flinching backward when the other glared at his snickering friends.

"Oh for the love of-- you're fucking dead meat, you hear me!" he shouts, the blush returned to George's face when he saw the taller man pull his shirt over his head, and there he saw his muscular and toned body that was covered in sweat, sand and seawater "Sorry again." he apologies before rushing off to kick his friend's ass, George meekly waved goodbye before backing away. He slaps his face to regain his composure and let out a sigh, he then pulled out the photo to see if it was damaged during the fall but he froze when he saw that a person finally appeared in the picture.

There, he saw the image of the man who crashed on him, a bright smile on his face as he offered his hand to what he believed was him, and a soft blush tinted his cheeks. George felt his heart start racing, his breathing and the little words falling from his lips stuttering as he raised his head in search of the man that was walking away from him. Before he knew it, his legs were moving on their own once more to chase after the attractive and tall man.

"Wai... wait!" his voice spoke for him as his arm reached towards him, the latter was just about to reach his friends when he felt someone grab his wrist and yank him backward. He had a confused look on his face as he turned around, and there he saw that pale yet gorgeous brunette before him once more.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, leaning down to gently grab at the arm that was holding his wrist, George was panting slightly as his grip on his wrist tightened.

"I-I'm... you're my-- dammit, I..." he couldn't speak, when he managed to collect himself, he raised the photo with trembling hands, and the male within his hands stared at it closely. There was silence between them once more and George was regretting the fact that he was being so clingy to a stranger, but in all honesty, he was getting restless and just wanted to know if he was the one "I think you're my soulmate."

...

...

"Damn, we knew you were gay." George gasped silently when he heard voices, raising his head, he paused when he saw that the man in front of him had a flustered expression on his face, a blush on his cheeks while his friends stood behind him and stared at the photo "Can't say I'm not jealous though."

"Your soulmate is quite pretty."

"Talk about pretty privileges." he just growled at them, they snicker before running away, but one of them handed his phone to him. The stranger gently slipped his hand out of George's grip so he could remove his phone case, there, he pulled out his own polaroid photo and looked at his closely. He slowly nods his head before showing George, and there he saw that the picture revealed him with a flushed face, a soft and nervous smile on his face as he hands one hand to his chest while the other was slowly reaching forward.

"So you're my soulmate..." he mumbled softly, to which George slowly nodded his head "Um... my name is [M/N], quite an awkward way to meet your soulmate, don't you think?" George giggled softly.

"Yeah, I suppose. I'm George, by the way." [M/N] runs a hand through his [H/C] locks, messing with his hair before extending his hand out to him.

"Would you like to, I don't know, get to know each other?" he offered, George stared at his hand, [M/N] urging him to take it, the former took a breath before giving him a nervous smile and taking his hand.

"I'd like that very much."

Headcanons:

the two of them spent the rest of that day getting to know each other.

george learnt that [m/n] traveled a lot, explaining as to why there were so many photos of random locations.

he also learnt the reason as to why [m/n] was in florida in the first place, it was because that was where he was going to meet george.

wow, what a damn coincidence, it wasn’t just because [m/n] was planning a trip to miami beach but to damn find him.

[m/n] learnt from the other that he was from britian, this caused the bigger one of the two to clap his hands and saying that he’s been planning on visiting britian but now won’t because george was in america.

the two of them hadn’t even realized how long they had been talking for until george’s phone started ringing because his friends were wondering where the hell he was.

cue george bringing [m/n] back to his group of friends.

cue the look of shock on their faces as the 6″5ft shirtless man stood next to george.

quackity wanted to square up with this tall hunk of meat.

dream was totally not jealous that this guy was actually really attractive.

karl was clapping.

sapnap was laughing.

at the end of the day, [m/n] and his group of equally tall friends invited george and his friends back to their hotel room to hang about so that they wouldn’t have to drive elsewhere to find accommodations.

[m/n] and george were quite perfect together. 

they both had their own way with showing affections, and since neither of them were very forward or showy about PDA, holding hands was enough for them that very moment until they were ready. 

but george couldn’t help his heart from fluttering each time he saw [m/n] smile at him and press his lips to the back of his hands and knuckles.

this trip to america was totally worth it all in the end.

Prompt #3:

You live in the world where you recognize your soulmate because the moment you see them, your vision goes from black and white to colorful.

Well this system sucks. Why? Because you‘re blind.

same

Reblog if your soulmate is fictional….

I know I’m not alone

T-Th-Thank you!!!

Hello darling, I was wondering if I can have a soulmate Rung x fem human reader please ? But, I've been thinking and an idea came of soulmate AU where once you see your soulmate, you can see beautiful tattoos that glow but everybody else can't see anything. If you prefer another soulmate AU I won't complain...😅😀😶

Rung was a bit alarmed at first, how would he find his soulmate? How would they find him? Did he even have one? The great relief he felt was very apparent upon meeting the for the first time. The tattoos themselves were amazing, they almost seemed to frame your personality as well as your appearance. He can’t imagine what you’re seeing, but he decides that doesn’t matter to him.

Imagine (Belphegor)

In which the animal that is most like their soulmate is always near them. You had been selected to be a transfer student to the devildom. A few weeks in, you managed to get past Lucifer to explore the stairs. Why is your animal companion so eager to get to the attic?

(Imagine below the cut)

The first few weeks as a transfer student in the devildom had certainly been interesting.

The sloth bear (haha sloth bear) that hung around you seemed to have a strong dislike for Lucifer, but liked to nap in Beelzebub’s room whenever you were busy.

The brothers had shown an interest in the animal that was supposed to show you your soulmate, but that interest quickly dissipated after the second week when you had to get Beelzebub to help you hold him back from attacking a demon that looked at you the wrong way.

For a little while, you thought that maybe Beelzebub was your soulmate due to how relaxed the bear was around him, but after realizing that he was never seen with an animal that could possibly represent you, you pushed aside the thought.

The bear did however show an interest in the stairs to the attic.

He was often seen sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and occasionally would nudge you towards them.

In a moment of curiosity, you asked Lucifer if there could be anyone hiding out in there that the bear could be drawn to.

“I can assure you, if someone was up there I would know.”

When you finally snuck past the avatar of pride to check for yourself, you were surprised to find Belphegor.

The avatar of sloth had been sleeping with his head resting on the fluffy side of a lamb.

At your arrival, he was instantly awake, the scent of human making his lip curl.

But when his eyes landed on the large, dark brown bear that sat beside you, he paused.

“What is that, human?”

He completely ignored your question of who he was, instead watching as the lamb that had appeared by his side only two decades ago interact with the bear.

“Uh... he’s a sloth bear. Wait is the lamb your soulmate animal?”

Needless to say, Belphegor was amused as to what happened to be the animal representing him. A sloth bear of all things.

The two of you ended up falling into a conversation about your soul animals as said creatures interacted between the bars.

Imagine (Beelzebub)

In which you can feel the pain of your soulmate. You can’t figure out whether your soulmate is just accident prone or has an intense workout regime. But then something happens to your soulmate and you can’t put off meeting them any longer.

(Imagine below the cut)

When you wake up sore every morning since your soulmark activated, you became grumpy.

Sure you were happy to know that you had a soulmate that was fit, but couldn’t they tone it down a notch?

In retaliation, you started working out too, and made sure to go a little overboard to give them a taste of their own medicine.

You  noticed that your soulmate seemed to go a little easier, and you wanted to cry in relief.

But then one day you feel like someone stabbed you in the stomach, and you keeled over in the middle of the street, leaving concerned bystanders to try and help you into a more comfortable position.

You ended up dialing your friends number to get him to come get you.

That one old lady was shooketh when a swirling portal appeared in front of you and a white haired man stepped through to pick you up and carry you to god knows where.

Hell, you were vaguely confused when it happened, but at the moment you were in too much pain to care that your best friend was apparently magical.

When Solomon brought you to the bedside of a ginger man surrounded by six other men, you just about died in embarrassment.

“Who the hell is that and why did you bring them?”

Solomon said nothing, and instead laid you next to the ginger man, who was unconscious at the time.

“Solomon what the hell is going on?”

You were embarrassed, and the fact that he was laying you in a bed next to a man you didn’t know wasn’t helping.

But then he forcefully moved your hand to touch the bare skin of the ginger and the pain melted away.

You knew exactly what this meant, but right then you were thinking less about the fact that Solomon found your soulmate, and more about the fact that the man was taking away your pain.

He too seemed to relax a little, and to the surprise of the other six boys, he pulled you into his embrace.

Imagine (Asmodeus)

In which you can hear their voice in your head until you meet them. Hearing your soulmate’s self care instructions and tips 24/7 started to get a bit overwhelming, so you took to the idea of being a transfer student like a moth to a flame. Your soulmate can’t hear you and you them if you’re in a different world right?

(Imagine below the cut)

‘Don’t forget to get plenty of sleep and eat healthy okay?’

The familiar soft voice echoes in your head as you pack.

You had told your soulmate that you were going to transfer to a school somewhere far away, and he was overly supportive, even joking that you might meet him.

You of course had a laugh at that, and told him that there was no way in hell he would be where you were transferring to.

haha sike

When you arrived in the devildom and were being introduced to the demon brothers, your eyes lingered on the demon that was shooting you a sneaky smile.

‘Ooooh there’s a pair of transfer students here and one of them is sooooo cute! I know you would agree if you saw them!’ 

As your soulmate’s voice rung out in your head, you visibly relaxed with a sigh.

“I’ll bet. I just arrived at the place I’m transferring to.” 

Your voice is quiet, but the demon, who Lucifer introduced to be Asmodeus smiled wider, as if he knew what you were talking about.

The second you were all excused, the pinkish haired demon that had been paying more attention to you sauntered over to you with a wide smile.

“So, what do you say about having a relaxing bath together sometime, soulmate?” 

For a moment you don’t even register that his voice isn’t in your head, and you’re about to question what he was talking about, but then you realize that the demon is still standing there waiting for a response, and you freeze.

“Soulmate?”

Imagine (Leviathan)

In which you can hear whatever music your soulmate is listening to. This is the seventeenth time today that you’ve heard the theme song to some anime that doesn’t actually exist and it’s driving you mad but wait there’s a boy humming it right there with headphones on.

(Imagine under the cut)

The music starts up again and you want to cry.

You can’t for the life of you figure out what song your soulmate has been listening to for the past week and it’s driving you insane.

Your best friend must see the anguish on your face, because he snickers and nudges your side.

“Same music?”

“YES IT’S THE SAME MUSIC!”

Solomon doesn’t even try to hide his amusement as you pull out your earbuds and scroll through your playlist to find an obnoxious song to play back at your soulmate.

Mean while, poor Levi was just vibing on a bench while Asmodeus was shopping, watching another episode of the newest devildom anime.

When suddenly new music filtered through his ears and he had to pause his episode to figure out what was happening.

He knew how his soulmark worked, but you had never played your own music so loud.

The poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a laugh a few steps away, and saw Solomon with a human girl.

“Finally! The song isn’t playing Solomon! It stopped!”

His human friend was snickering as he watched his female friend do a little happy dance in glee, and Levi rolls his eyes before turning his attention away from you and Solomon.

He unpaused his anime, and almost immediately, immediately heard the groan through his headphones.

“IT STARTED AGAIN SOLOMON PICK A SONG QUICK!”

Leviathan nearly passed out when he realized that you might be hearing the music from his anime, so he did a little test.

Turning his attention to you, he paused his anime, then unpaused it several times, his face falling with your confused expression.

“Wait they keep stopping the music then starting it. What the fuck are they doing?”

Aaaand that’s when Solomon looked around for some unknown reason, and saw Levi staring at the two in fear as his finger hovered over the play button on his DDD.

Yeah Solomon just about choked on his own spit when he looked between the two and realized what was going on.

When Solomon finally managed to steer you over to Leviathan, who was shaking his head furiously at the wizard, you looked up from your playlist to see a terrified looking boy in front of you.

“So I think I know why we can’t find the anime intro you keep hearing. Meet Levi. He’s the one watching it.”

“So yOu’Re tHe bItCh.”

Yeah the two of you were blushing messes for the first year at least.

But hey, at least you can watch the anime that’s been bothering you for the past week.

Imagine (Mammon)

In which you have your soulmate’s name on your inner wrist. You were just invited down to the Devildom by your best friend who was going to school there as part of her internship, and she introduces you to one of her friends.

(Imagine under the cut)

It had taken you hours to pack.

You weren’t sure of what kinds of foods would be there so you wanted to bring something that you knew you would like.

It took no longer then five minutes for the portal to open once you texted her that you were ready.

When you got through, the first thing you saw was a tall man with red hair. His eyes were a soft yellow and you couldn’t help but feel immediately safe around this strange man.

From what your friend had told you, this must be Lord Diavolo.

After introductions, your friend was allowed to bring you out of the room and show you around.

You were introduced to the ginger scarfing down food on the way to your friend’s room, and when you got there, the two of you sat on the bed to catch up for a bit.

Eventually you showed her that you got your soulmark, and she stared at it for longer then you thought necessary.

“Like what the heck kind of name is Mammon? How would I even find him?”

“I think I know him.”

Her words were slow and she looked concerned, but never less, she pulled you up to take you somewhere.

“I mean he has your name on his wrist but your name isn’t really uncommon so I didn’t think anything of it.

When she finally knocked on a door, you broke out in a cold sweat.

It took a minute, and a crash paired with a muffled curse, but finally, the door opened and you were faced with a tall, white haired boy.

His face lost its frown when he saw your friend, and he leaned on the doorway as if waiting for one of you to speak.

“Her name is Y/n so I think I accidentally found your soulmate.”

She held up your wrist to show him your name, and he stood there for a minute to process what she said.

Then he looked up from your wrist to see your face and it seemed to sink in.

He fainted. 

Imagine (Lucifer)

In which you see only black and white until you meet your soulmate. You just arrived in the Devildom for your internship with Solomon, and Diavolo has brought you before the 6 demons you’ll be staying with.

(Imagine below the cut)

Packing was rather boring to you.

Solomon had come over to help you, but he just ended up lounging on your bed and occasionally using a spell to throw something back into your closet if it looked bad.

He could see color because he had a different type of soulmark.

Eventually you were done, and now you were waiting for the portal to appear in your driveway.

Solomon was teasing you about something, but quickly shut up when the portal appeared and a tall demon stepped out.

When you got to the Devildom, Diavolo took a moment to tell you about the demons you’d be saying with.

Solomon started to tease you again, something about how you better be careful you don’t fall for any of them.

But then the first one stepped in.

Your had to shut your eyes from the intensity of the colors as they flooded into focus.

The first thing that you had seen in color was the black-red eyes of the black haired man, and then he was frozen.

Solomon must have noticed your awestruck expression as you let your eyes wander around to what he was wearing, then quickly back up to his face.

He also seemed to be drinking in the colors around him for the first time, and you startled as Solomon nudged you to try to get you to stop staring.

He probably thought you were just surprised by his looks.

“Can you see them too?” 

The man finally spoke, his deep voice almost a whisper, and that’s when the rest of the people in the room realized what had happened.

Their oldest brother had finally found his soulmate.

Imagine (Satan)

In which when you write or draw on yourself, it appears on your soulmates’ skin. Shopping for books became a completely different experience when you saw familiar writing on someone else’s arm.

(Imagine below the cut)

You had always loved to read.

You were often told by your roommate that you had way too many books, but as long as they stayed in your room, you didn’t see the problem with your books.

So imagine your excitement when after years of writing down little notes of books to read on your wrist, you found another book title you hadn’t seen before.

‘Cruel Seas by [redacted]’

You knew you hadn’t written that down, so your first reaction was to run to your roommate screaming about the the fact that your soulmate just talked to you for the first time.

Of all the things he could have said to you first, he recommended a book to you.

Of course you immediately went to the nearest book store to find a copy.

Weeks went by without any more writing from your soulmate, but then one day, he writes another book name.

‘Based on what you’ve written down previously, I think you might like: [redacted] by [redacted]’

The two of you conversed over books often after that

A few months later, you were dropping by a new book store that had recently opened up.

You were looking between the short list on your wrist and the titles on the shelves, when you heard the door open.

Thinking nothing of it, you reached up to grab a book that turned out to be out of reach.

“Let me help you with that soulmate.”

Another hand easily grabbed the book for you, and as the blond man handed you the book, you finally realized what he had said. 

“Wait what?”

His chuckle was like music to your ears, as he rolled up his long grey sleeve to show a matching list to the one on your exposed arm.

“Found you.”

Imagine (Hans Lee):

A patch of your skin is stained black and turns to the color of your soulmate's eyes when they first touch you. Meeting a devil for the first time was already scary, so when a second one appears? You run. Of course, that doesn’t go as planned now does it.

(Imagine below the cut)

Walking alone back home after being at the collage library with your best friend all day should have been easy.

Key word: should.

So when you realize you’re being followed, you discretely tell Tsukasa to go ahead and you’d catch up.

She doesn’t question you, too wrapped up in the fact that she’ll be seeing that man -Anzai she called him- again.

You wait until she’s out of view, and then like the dumbass you are, you turn around and call out to whoever had been following you to let them know you knew they were there.

After not seeing anything for a hot minute, you assume that the person had decided to leave you two alone, so you turn to go catch up with your friend.

Yeah no that was a mistake.

Once your back is turned, you hear a low growl, and then the breath is knocked out of you.

A furious looking man had jumped on you and knocked you to the ground.

You think for a minute ‘oh fuck, this is how I die’ as his fanged mouth descends towards your neck.

But then someone else with long white hair kicks the man off of you and engages in a very dramatic fight with him.

You can see the glimpse of the second man’s single red eye, so you know that whatever the first man was, the second one is too.

That knowledge is enough to make you bolt the second you realize that the second man had successfully knocked out the firsts, and has turned to you.

Of course you can’t outrun him, but it’s the thought that counts right?

“Hey wait up! I just want to make sure you’re okay!”

His words make you falter, and that brief moment of hesitation lets him grab you by the arm to make you stop running.

“I promise I’m not going to hurt you! His voice is soft, and his visible eye is wide as he looks you over.

His gaze stops at your forearm where he had grabbed you, before slowly travelling back up to meet your eyes.

“Is there any chance you were like that before I grabbed you?”

You realize what he’s talking about when you look down, only to see that there’s a handprint in the shade of his eye on your wrist.

“Holy shit I found you.”

Imagine (Guzma):

The first thing said to you by your soulmate is written somewhere on your body. Your first meeting with team skull goes a little different than you had expected.

(Imagine below the cut)

Your pokemon were tired, and so were you.

You had been travelling to Po Town, and you were unprepared for the rain.

I meant you knew it rained there, but you didn’t realize it was this bad.

Galvantula and Larvesta were not having it.

Your Araquanid was having the time of its life as it splashed in the puddles though at least.

When you finally saw the wall encasing the town you almost cried of happiness.

Finally you could get somewhere dry.

The team skull grunts seemed surprised as to how willing you were to go with them inside to see their boss.

Honestly you couldn’t care less about their boss. Whoever he was.

When they brought you before the white-haired man sitting on the throne-like chair, you nearly laughed.

You shut up real quick when he looked at your Araquanid and opened his mouth.

“That’s a cute bug type, but mine’s better.”

“Wanna bet?”

The two of you were quiet for a minute, processing each other’s words, before the man stood up and laughed.

“Took ya long enough.”

The rest of the team skull members that were in the room were shook when their leader walked over to you and started talking about bugs with you.

Imagine (Dabi/Touya Todoroki):

You have your soulmate’s name on one wrist, and your mortal enemy’s name on the other. One wrist says Touya Todoroki, while the other says Dabi.

(Imagine below the cut)

Many heroes with this kind of soulmark left their wrists unwrapped in hopes of their soulmate seeing their name and going to meet them.

You were one of those heroes.

You had been told that Touya Todoroki was dead, and Dabi was a villain.

But like a fool, you hoped that maybe Touya was just hiding out somewhere and needed a reason to show himself.

Meeting Dabi for the first time while you were on patrol was terrifying. 

You had been called by a few civilians to check out suspicious activities in a supposedly empty bar.

Your sidekick used their quirk to phase the two of you through a back wall, and the two of you split up to check the place out.

You didn’t notice when someone came up behind you from a mostly hidden hallway so when you were thrown against a wall you were surprised to say the least.

The blue fire on the hand in front of your face was even most terrifying.

Cerulean eyes stared back at your own, before dropping down to your exposed forearms when they registered black ink.

You were prepared to fight the man who you recognized as Dabi from the league of villains, but an annoyed sigh made you hesitate.

His eyes were locked on the names on your wrists, and you knew that his name was there.

What you didn’t know, was that both names were his, so his laughter took you by surprise.

“Well, you don’t see that every day. You must be Y/n.”

Imagine (Hizashi Yamada):

Once you meet eyes with your soulmate, you can both see color. You just transferred from America back to Japan after five years be a teaching assistant for Aizawa and your life exploded into colors when you met his friend, the eccentric music teacher.

(Imagine below the cut)

 Getting into the school took longer then you would have liked.

You were stopped every five minutes by excited fans on the way to the airport, and once in the Japan airport, you were ambushed by more fans.

You loved your fans, you really did.

But it was too much on your first day when you just wanted to get over the jetlag.

The weekend was nice and quiet, so when you got to U.A, you were surprised by the amount of energy that your students had when you stepped into the room.

The morning went by without a hitch thank god, and then it was lunch break.

 You were shown to the breakroom by Aizawa, who then climbed into a bright yellow sleeping bag to take a nap.

When the blond pro hero bursts through the door, you just about have a heart attack.

After he apologizes for scaring you, you finally meet eyes with the excitable pro, and suddenly you can see.

Your world explodes into color and you both freeze.

Aizawa mumbles something along the lines of ‘finally they’re quiet’ but neither of you notice.

The two of you are two busy drinking in the colors around you.

Finally Hizashi snaps out of it and his grin widens until you’re worried he’s going to hurt his face.

He’s all over you in seconds, asking question like ‘what’s your favorite animal and your name’ 

After exchanging questions, answers and numbers, the two of you promise to meet after school for your first date.

You can easily hear Hizashi from next door as he excitedly yells to your students that he found his soulmate today.

Imagine (Shouta Aizawa):

If you get hurt the mark appears on your soulmate in the same place. You finally found your soulmate after seeing him in a press conference on the news.

(Imagine below the cut)

Realizing that your soulmate was a pro hero you had idolized for years was like a dream come true.

Sure you were a fully grown adult, but that didn’t change the fact that you had to take a moment to freak out.

Then reality caught up to you and you realized one little fact.

You had no way to contact him.

Sure you could just try to talk to the next pro you saw about getting his contact info, but what pro in their right mind would give that out freely?

So that’s why you’re where you are now.

It’s been a week since the camino ward incident when you first saw the identifying mark on your soulmate and now you were standing in front of U.A high.

You knew about the barrier, so you were stuck waiting for someone to notice you.

Just your luck, a familiar eccentric blond appeared on your left, talking animatedly with another quieter blond man, and you realized that this was your chance.

“Hey, is there any chance that I could speak with one of your colleagues? I think I’m his soulmate and I couldn’t figure out any other way to find him.”

Present Mic took one look at your face and screeched.

You immediately thought you had done something wrong but it turns out the guy was ecstatic.

Mic personally escorted you all the way to the break room while the tall man, who you now know as Toshinori repeatedly apologized for his outburst.

By the time you were in front of the break room you had been told that Aizawa loved coffee, cats, his students and sleeping.

You thought that was adorable

When Shouta saw the cut under your eye, he had to take a moment to process the knowledge that he might have just found his soulmate.

Toshinori dragged Mic out of the room to let you two have your moment.

His hand held your face so carefully as he examined the mark, and then he lifted his sleeve to show you a familiar mark that mirrored the one you had gotten when you fell off your bike when you were nine.

The two of you spent every spare moment together after that.

Hisashi often made comments on how perfect you were for each other.

Being with Aizawa was a high that never ended.