#and I wanted to finish this some day in my life lmao

[mangostarjam]

knot happening (part two) — bnha, alpha!bakugou katsuki x f!reader, aged up characters, established relationship, a/b/o dynamics, use of "baby", "pipsqueak", "brat", "little shit" as pet names, dubious HR ethics, questionable sex toys, reader wears a skirt at the end, smut, creampies, oral sex, knotting, omegaverse!au for the spring fever collab run by @lorelune ! 10k words lmao

part one

your new company has some interesting policies for employee heat cycles, but your boyfriend and mate has no intention of letting you off easy

It starts with cravings.

All of Bakugou Katsuki's well intentioned efforts to keep you from dying of malnutrition or scurvy fly out the window as you enter your pre-heat. Your Pro Hero boyfriend and mate turns his nose up at the strawberry pocky you crunch on the couch, rolls his eyes at the cherry and dark chocolate chip ice cream you scoop after dinner, and pouts at the mango and sticky rice cups you devour after work.

"It all has fruit in it," you point out. "And besides, you always steal half my daifuku mochi before I can finish it. Complain about that, you thief!"

Katsuki, to his credit, retaliates by making your favorite veggie-laden meals for the cute bentos he puts together for your lunches. You pop open the container and you're greeted by stupidly cute penguins crafted from seaweed and rice, mushrooms and bell peppers nestled next to perfect rolled egg omelettes, carrots cut into little stars and cucumbers that look like clouds.

You take a photo of your lunch and send it to your boyfriend. He texts back "?????" and you frown at your phone.

Katsuki calls a moment later. "Don't tell me you're suddenly allergic to cucumbers."

His voice is rough and low — he must be in the office, if the distant chatter of his fellow heroes is anything to go by — but he's probably turned off into a side hallway because Eijiro's teasing has lately turned into casual remarks about marriage, and… yeah, of course Katsuki's gonna marry you, but he doesn't need his best friend to bring it up every time he's on the phone with you.

"I might be allergic to how cute these are," you say, but there's laughter in your voice and he scrunches his nose, so pleased he can feel the tips of his ears heat up. "How am I supposed to eat this?! This poor rice penguin has never done anything wrong in its life!"

Katsuki snorts quietly into his gloved hand. "D'you want me to make your food look ugly next time?"

You beam down at your bento and kick your feet beneath your desk. "Thanks for making me lunch, loverboy."

"Can't have you dyin' while I'm fuckin' you dumb," Katsuki's already low voice gets lower. The rough timbre of it so intimately in your ear sends a thread of desire straight to your core and you shift uncomfortably, glancing around your office. Luckily, it's empty — everyone's out for lunch because it's such a beautiful spring day, but you forgot to take your allergy medicine and you don't want to tempt disaster. "Leaving you in bed this morning was a crime."

"H-huh?" you set your feet on the ground and sit up a little straighter. "Babe, shut up. What if someone overhears you!"

"Then they'd be too damn close to you and I'll need to punch their lights out," Katsuki states matter of factly.

"So protective," you tease, settling back into your seat. He's trying to rile you up — he knows what his low tone does to you — but you're going to make it through your pre-heat without alerting your company even if it kills you. "I'll see you later, 'kay? Kick some ass, baby."

Your boyfriend mumbles something that sounds suspiciously cheesy before he hangs up, and you eat your lunch with gusto. It's day two of your pre-heat and so far it seems like nobody can tell. Your cravings are easy to pass off as a strong sweet tooth, and Katsuki's patrol schedule has kept him away from picking you up after work. You slapped a pheromone suppressor on your neck this morning and then styled up your business casual outfit with a loose silk scarf, so it should be… fine.

Your phone vibrates with a text and you swipe it open without thinking. The sound that leaves your mouth at the sight that greets you is unholy and you slam your phone facedown on your desk.

What the fuck.

"…You alright there, newbie?" Akane from Sales pauses in the act of draping her jacket over her chair. "Did you get a spam call?"

"Just peachy!" you croak out. You clear your throat as more of your coworkers file back in from their lunch break. "I thought I saw a bug, that's all!"

More like a closeup photo of your boyfriend's bulge in his hero suit, clearly stiff and straining hard against the heat resistant fabric, his easily recognizable gloved hand dangerously close to palming the thick outline —

Akane makes a funny face. "And you smashed it with your phone?"

"It was just instinct," you say sheepishly, "I'm fine with bugs where they belong, and they don't belong on my desk!"

Akane and your other coworkers nod at this and the conversation shifts, so you take advantage of everyone's inattention to pick your phone back up. You do it gingerly, as if there really is a bug squished underneath, but really you're just trying not to accidentally flash Pro Hero Dynamight's crotch shot to the world.

You can see the headlines now:

"Pro Hero Dynamight Ready to Blow!"

"Dynamight Explodes Up to the Top Ten Sexiest Pro Heroes with Infamous Shot!"

"Is the Great Explosion Murder God Packing the Heat?"

Katsuki's PR team would kill you. You quickly slide your phone beneath your desk and swipe away from your texts, breathing a sigh of relief when the (annoyingly tasteful) shot disappears from your screen.

Your phone vibrates with texts the rest of the day. No more photos (you can't tell if you should be grateful or mournful about this) but judging from the text previews you hastily swipe away on your screen, Katsuki's clearly out to get you. He seemed normal this morning — his lips brushed your cheek gently as you drew the blankets up to your chin — so what is his problem?

You finally get a chance to read his texts while waiting for your train at the station. Your eyes widen as you scroll through the messages — they're filled with his typical profanity, but he's practically written an instruction manual on all the ways he's imagined fucking you today. Your hand rises unwittingly to your pheromone suppressor patch. Maybe you should wear it at night, too, so he won't get so worked up? Though you kind of doubt it's working at all, since reading his texts is making you shift where you stand, heat pooling in your core.

The station is crowded with evening commuters — packs of students giggling and chattering among themselves, other tired office workers tapping away at their phones, little kids holding hands so they won't get separated — and nobody is paying you any mind. Maybe your suppressors are working after all? Wait — are they supposed to keep your pre-heat pheromones from leaking out or in?

Your ears perk as the pleasant tone signaling the arrival of your train jingles through the crowd. It's a quick ride three stops down to your apartment, which is one stop away from Katsuki's agency Ground Zero. When the two of you were looking for a place together, Katsuki insisted that it be just outside of his patrol range — close enough for him to get there quickly, but far enough that he would be able to actually relax at home. You can hear the familiar sound of a knife meeting a cutting board while you toe off your shoes in the genkan, lifting your nose to the air as the comforting smell of rice cooking wafts towards you.

"I'm home!" you call out, bypassing the kitchen to strip out of your work clothes. You sigh with relief as you toss your pants into the laundry basket, dragging one of Katsuki's well-worn hoodies over your head and tugging a pair of his workout shorts up your hips. They smell like him — smoky and rich and a little bit sweet — and you burrow into the comfort with a hum of pleasure.

The sizzle and crack of veggies and rice hitting the pan fill the air as you make your way into the kitchen. You follow your nose and ears happily, mouth already watering at the thought of eating more of Katsuki's cooking, but you stop dead at the entrance and make a funny strangled sound.

Asshole. Is he doing this on purpose? He's totally doing this on purpose.

"Welcome home," Katsuki says, rising from a crouch to his full, intimidating height and giving the pan another flick of his wrist. Sometimes you forget how broad your Pro Hero boyfriend is, but it's abundantly clear when he's standing in front of the stove shirtless like some kind of wet dream. He barely gives you a once over, just a casual glance of red that sends heat rushing to your cheeks before he turns his attention back to the stove.

You know — and you know he knows — that certain instincts flare up with your pre-heat. Everyone has different symptoms. The food cravings are one thing, for you, but they're manageable and easy to pass off as unrelated. Wanting to be covered in your mate's scent is another thing entirely, and while it's a relatively common symptom, it never fails to embarrass you, especially because you know how much Katsuki secretly likes it.

"What're you making?" you ask. Katsuki keeps his eyes on his pan, so you take the opportunity to ogle him freely, admiring the strong set of his shoulders and the firm lines of back muscle on full display. Stupid Katsuki with his stupid workouts making him look like a goddamn god. From your position at the kitchen entrance, you're close enough to see the pale scars crisscrossing his skin and the way the edge of his lips lift in a smug, self-satisfied smirk as he catches you checking him out. He's easily the hottest man you've ever seen in your life.

"Chicken fried rice," he says, snapping you out of your blatant stare. "It's almost done."

"You're telling me a chicken fried this rice?" you joke, grinning widely when Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes at you. "Here, lemme set the table."

The two of you prepare for dinner companionably, though Katsuki definitely hovers more than usual. You can't help but lean back into his firm (and very naked) chest as he stands behind you while you reach up for plates, his hands heavy on your hips to help you balance. He also sets your plate piled high with fried rice next to his own at the table instead of across as usual, and when you make a questioning sound he just arches a brow expectantly.

"What? Sit and eat your fucking vegetables, pipsqueak."

"That's not my question," you giggle, accepting the seat he holds out for you. He spins it sideways easily, so that you're suddenly facing his own chair instead of the table, a casual show of strength that sends a shiver up your spine. Then he sits next to you with a grunt and immediately grabs your bare legs to drape them over his lap, forcing you to cling to his arm in surprise. "What the hell!"

"Shaddup," Katsuki mumbles, keeping a firm grip on your bare legs. "You can eat like this, right?"

You can, though you have to wiggle a bit and hold your plate in your lap. The changed angle gives you a perfect view of your boyfriend's profile, and you look at him for a moment, admiring the cut of his jawline and the slope of his nose.

"Quit starin'," he says. The pale scar along his cheek lifts when he shoots you a smug grin. "Your food's gonna get cold."

"You're the one who made me sit like this," you point out. You scratch at the side of your neck absently, but your nail catches on the suppressant patch and you pause. "Do you know if these patches are to keep the pheromones in or out?"

Katsuki takes a big bite of his fried rice and chews carefully. "Nothing's gonna stop your pre-heat from affectin' you," he says evenly. "And normally it'd keep 'em from leakin' out, but," he takes a deep breath and finally meets your eyes, "I'm your mate, so that shit doesn't work on me."

"Oh." Your voice is small even to your own ears. Katsuki's red hot gaze stays fixed on you for another long, torturous moment before he drags his attention to his food. "Is that why… you sent me a dick pic?"

Katsuki chokes on the spoonful of fried rice he just brought to his lips and his hand comes up to slap against the table. You crack a grin and pick up your own spoon. "That wasn't — wasn't a fuckin' dick pic, you perv."

"Sure looked like it to me," you say cheerfully. The fried rice is delicious and you nearly moan with satisfaction, wiggling in your seat as the flavors burst along your tongue. "It was a photo featuring the area of your body where your dick is at, so obviously, it was a dick pic!"

"Fuck off," he mumbles, shoving another spoonful into his mouth. "How was work? Anybody notice?"

"It was great," you say, "and nah, I don't think anyone noticed. I wore a scarf to hide the patch, y'know. Pretty good, huh?"

"You're a smart one," Katsuki says, and you preen under the praise. "You gonna wear a scarf the rest of the week, then?"

You shrug and wiggle your legs a little just to get Katsuki to clamp down on them with one strong arm. You flex your feet, feeling his thighs tense in turn, and eat another spoonful of dinner. "I don't think I can. It's supposed to get real hot this week and besides, I wanna… wear one of your shirts."

"Hah?" Katsuki nearly drops his spoon. "How're you gonna do that? It'll be too big for you, pipsqueak."

"I'll figure it out. I've done it before!" Your grin turns mischievous. "Want me to model for you after dinner?"

Katsuki shoots you a look. "You tryna get into my pants already, sweetheart? What happened to resisting pre-heat?"

"It's not like we'll be doing anything," you point out. "I have faith in you, babe."

Your boyfriend doesn't answer, but his hand tightens around your thigh, leaving indents in the soft give of your body. The two of you switch to safer topics, like the old ladies who ran into Katsuki on patrol (again) because they wanted to pass on their grandkids' sketches, and your new friends Akane and Shimizu who complimented your scarf. You do the dishes afterwards, but Katsuki stays glued to your back, thick arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

"I think you've got too much faith in me," Katsuki frowns, holding one of his button ups against your frame a bit later. You shed his hoodie and your shirt and bra, tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket and holding your arms out for him to dress you in his shirt. He eyes your chest openly, sending a spark of heat zipping down your spine, but slides the sleeves over your arms and helps you button it up without saying anything else.

His hands are careful as he slides the buttons home. You force yourself to breathe evenly as he crowds into your space, that smoky sweet scent filling your nose as he presses his lips to your temple and noses at your ear. His big hands with all their callouses and scars are gentle as he smooths the fabric over your shoulders, leaving a wave of warmth as he slides them around to your back to tug you closer into his embrace.

You hug him back, resting your palms against his shoulder blades and pressing into the skin there as he shifts. It's quiet as he breathes you in, his chest rising and falling against your own. Distantly you can hear trains rattling on the tracks, teenagers being rowdy in front of the nearby konbini, babies wailing for bedtime several doors down. You close your eyes and listen to Katsuki's heartbeat instead, though a furrow forms between your eyebrows as his heartbeat quickens.

"Are you… good?" you whisper.

"…'m fine."

"Okay… are you having a heart attack?"

"Don't be stupid," Katsuki snorts. "As if I'd get worked up over a lil' huggin'."

"Sure, sure," you grin up at him, smiling wider as his eyes soften at your expression. "It's not like I'm your mate or anything. It's fine if you get worked up, babe — I think you're pretty hot, too."

"Aren't you supposed to be figurin' out tomorrow's outfit?"

You detach yourself from him reluctantly, though he doesn't let you get very far, latching onto your wrist and padding along behind you as you go to peruse the closet. Katsuki pulls you into his chest again as you eye the various options. Despite favoring athletic, technical clothes — fabrics that are easy to move in at a moment's notice — he does own a wide range of clothing thanks to his various sponsorships.

"Does it ever bother you, wearing clothes with these brands associated with them?" you ask, rubbing a silky suit jacket sleeve and peering up at him.

"Nah," Katsuki shrugs. "My team's halfway decent 'bout choosin' who we partner with, so it's not a big deal."

"Should I be less sensitive about my company's branded sex toys?" Your voice is small. You turn back to the clothes so you don't have to look at him, but Katsuki presses a kiss to the back of your hair and huffs.

"If it bothers you, it bothers you," he says gruffly. "We're good, baby. You don't hafta tell your company squat. I'm still your mate no matter what."

You repeat Katsuki's words to yourself the next day, swathed in his button up shirt tucked into a pair of his trousers with the ankles rolled up, as Akane and Shimizu show you the storeroom where they keep the company branded sex toys. Everyone's email notifications had pinged this morning with the news that Kensuke in Accounting would be entering his heat soon, so your two new coworker besties had dragged you along on a mission to prepare his celebratory heat cycle package.

"Wow," you say blankly, "they really are branded."

Shimizu holds up a cock ring with your company's name emblazoned along the side. "When you're in the moment, you really don't notice the name, but I guess it is a little garish, huh?"

"It's just so… big," you say, pulling over another box. "Is the company worried we'll forget who we work for or something?"

"I think they just want to be supportive," Akane laughs, holding up a dildo that wobbles wildly in her hand. "We'll need to have our drinking party at the end of the week, I think. Kensuke-san said he'll bring his mate if it's late enough for her to make it. I guess her alpha senses get really sensitive when he's this close to heat."

"You'll come, won't you?" Shimizu asks you. She works in HR and it shows as she packs up a care basket with ease. "Most people don't bring their mates unless it's their own pre-heat party, but I'm sure everyone would love to meet yours!"

You wrinkle your nose before you can help it. The idea of alcohol and Katsuki and your coworkers sounds like a bad combination, especially when you're desperately trying to hide your own pre-heat symptoms from the company. "He doesn't really drink…"

"There'll be nonalcoholic drinks served too," Akane says. "My mate gets her panties all in a twist when I come home drunk."

"It's alright if you don't want to," Shimizu assures you. "We'll just meet him when it's time for your own pre-heat party!"

You freeze in the act of pulling out a package of anal beads where each bead seems to have one character of your company's name stamped on it, but luckily neither of them seem to notice. "Can you do me a favor, in the spirit of our new friendship?" you ask, "Could you guys please choose the toys with the least amount of branding?"

Akane and Shimizu laugh. "Aye, aye, boss!"

"We should just start prepping yours now," Akane says breezily. "That way we'll be ready when it hits you!"

"We can even give it to you early," Shimizu adds, "and I'll just mark it off in your file. You've got next week off, so maybe you can put it to good use ahead of time."

She winks and you laugh nervously, but thankfully they don't know you well enough yet to pick up on it. "That would be great, actually," you say, fidgeting with a packet of flavored lube. "I'm sure my boyfriend will love that."

There's a knock at the door as the three of you dig into boxes and sort misplaced toys into their proper shelves. Someone you vaguely recognize from the IT department pokes their head in and immediately zeroes in on you. "Ah, sorry to interrupt," they say sheepishly, glancing at the fuzzy handcuffs Shimizu is brandishing, "but it looks like your mate is here, and he says it's important."

You stare at them. "My… mate…?"

"Uh. Yes," they say, "Mr. Dynamight?"

What?

You wave goodbye to Akane and Shimizu and thank the IT person for the notice before speed-walking towards the entrance lobby of your building. The elevators always take too long, so you head for the stairs, even though it'll take you out towards the back end of the building. There's no reason for Katsuki to show up at your workplace, especially not when he should still be on patrol. He hasn't messaged you much today, either, but that's not unusual. Did something happen? Is he hurt?

Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears that you nearly miss the gruff "whoa!" as a densely muscled arm suddenly swings out to snag you by the waist. You're lifted straight off your feet and shoved into a supply closet before you even have a chance to open your mouth and scream, but Katsuki is quick to slap a rough hand over your lips.

"Shh, it's just me, shit, sorry," he grunts, wincing as you bite his hand. "Fuck, your teeth are sharp."

"Katsuki!" You have the presence of mind to keep your voice low as you shout. He must have a reason for ambushing you in the back of your company building, so even if you don't know what's going on, you know better than to risk getting caught. "What are you doing here?"

The closet is dark, though light seeps through the bottom of the door he's shoved you against from the hallway he just caught you in. You can barely make out his deep red eyes with the lighting and his gauntlets and gloves resting on the shelf by his shoulder — everything else is cast in shadows. "I needed to see you."

"… huh?"

"I'm not losing, you got that? I'm just makin' up for yesterday."

"What're you talking ab— hey!" You back up into the door with a thunk as Katsuki leans forward, his thick arms caging you in on either side. "Bakugou Katsuki I swear on your All Might trading cards I'll knee you in the balls if you blow my cover here."

He snorts and ducks his head closer. You can feel the soft puffs of his laughter against your neck as you crane your face away, desperate to maintain the upper hand here even though his proximity is triggering something alarming between your thighs.

"Knew you'd look hot as fuck in my clothes," he mumbles, inhaling sharp along the soft skin of your neck. "You smell so fucking good, too."

"I used a strawberry lip balm today," you breathe, careful to stay pressed back against the door. Katsuki is close enough now that you can feel his chest rumble when he laughs.

He presses his lips to the hammering pulse beneath your jaw. "I'm not gonna blow your fuckin' cover," he says lowly. "I'm just gettin' a little taste."

And then he nips at your skin, mere centimeters away from your scent glands — and you moan.

Loudly.

Desperately.

Fuck him. You're sensitive this far into your pre-heat. Desire thrums through you like a plucked string and you lose your tenuous grasp on your self control. All you can think about is Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki as hormones flood your bloodstream and your subdued omega instincts rise to the surface, pheromone suppressor be damned. Your hands are in his hair before you've registered it, yanking him up to kiss you. It's a testament to Katsuki's iron will and his love for you that he lets you drag him into place, though he can't quite kiss you properly because he's smirking too hard. You bite at his lip in retaliation, but that only makes him groan low in his chest and the sound zips straight to your core.

You're so warm. Hot, even, flames of pleasure licking up your spine. You grab onto his shoulders and tremble as he shoves one hard, muscled thigh between your legs, flexing and pressing upwards until your weight rests firmly on top of him. "K-Katsuki…"

"What's the matter, baby?"

"This is so fucking unfair," you whine, tugging at him until he drags you forward by the hips. The friction is delicious and intense, even through your borrowed trousers and the thick fabric of his hero suit, and you can do nothing but hold on for your life as Katsuki guides you into riding his thigh. The easy way his biceps flex and his overwhelming strength turn your mind a little fuzzy. "Why'd you — why're you —"

"Couldn't stop thinkin' about you, brat," Katsuki grunts, pressing his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bare your neck for him instinctively, presenting for him, but he tilts his face up to nip at your ear instead. "Wearin' my clothes and smellin' like me —"

"You're my mate," you gasp out, fisting his hair. "Don't I always smell a little like you?"

Katsuki laughs and stops dragging you along his thigh, shoulders shaking harder when you whimper in protest. You can feel the sharp wave of your impending orgasm recede with every rough chuckle exhaled against your skin. "You want me to keep goin'?"

"You started this, you asshole —"

"Beg for it, then."

Oh. Wait. "Fuck you," you hiss, shoving at him to let you down. He obeys easily, keeping his large hands on your waist to steady you. Desire is still humming hot in your veins, but the cold logic of your brain is working overtime to bring you back down. He's just trying to get you to lose, huh? "Did you come here just to rile me up? What's your problem?"

"Your pre-heat is gettin' to me," Katsuki says, nosing at your temple. Your already flushed body spikes with embarrassment at the tender gesture. "I didn't wanna leave you this mornin', and you were so fuckin' hot yesterday. You sure we can't just kickstart it early?"

"I thought you said you could resist me," you mumble, "what happened to that?"

"I am resistin' you."

You pull away slightly to shoot a pointed look at his body caging you against the door. You get an eyeful of his firm chest and those strong arms you love so much, which doesn't exactly help your predicament, but Katsuki just grins, sharp and beautiful even in the dim light of the closet.

"Baby, if it were up to me, I'd be balls deep in you right now," Katsuki says. Your toes curl in your shoes as you bite back a whine. "But we're tryin' to keep it a secret, yeah?"

This was a mistake. You know — you know your boyfriend has a competitive streak a mile wide, and there's no way he's going to let you walk away from calling him weak for you. Never mind that he's been behaving himself so far — letting you try on his clothes in front of him, sending dirty texts but not acting on any of them — now it seems like he's ready to fight back. Making dinner shirtless last night was definitely a small test for your own self control, but now he's breaking out the big guns by ambushing you at work.

"You're terrible," you breathe, and Katsuki just grins.

"Better get back to work, or your coworkers'll come lookin' for you."

As if your coworkers read his mind, behind you come the distinct sound of clattering footsteps going down the hall. You hear someone beyond the thin barrier of the door you're still pressed against. "Do you think Dynamight will give me his autograph?"

Katsuki meets your glare in the dim light and his grin shifts into a smirk, though his red eyes are unmistakably fond as he regards you. "I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

"You suck. You're evil. They should take away your Pro Hero license."

Your boyfriend laughs quietly and leans forward to brush his lips along your cheek. You tilt your face up into the smoky sweetness of him and manage to kiss the edge of his jaw as he pulls back. He hums with pleasure, but his smirk is still sharp as he eyes you. "Yeah, yeah. You're the one who poked the big bad alpha, you little shit."

Katsuki gets the two of you out of the supply closet and disappears before anyone in your company can corner him for an autograph. You spend a few minutes splashing water on your face in the bathroom, hurriedly trying to cool down as the lingering aftereffects of nearly getting marked race through your bloodstream. Once you deem your reflection (and raging hormones) passable, you head back upstairs and get back to work.

Or at least, you try to get back to work. The stacks of reports are less enticing to you now that you know Katsuki is really trying to get you to beg for him. It all makes sense to you now. The dirty texts and shirtless cooking were testing the waters — his way of seeing how affected you are by him, as if you haven't been mated for years at this point — and now he's ready to leverage your omega biology against you any way that he can. There's no rule saying you can't fuck during your pre-heat, but neither of you have tried thanks to the unspoken agreement that it would make this silly competition less fun.

But you really, really want to fuck him.

"Is everything alright?" Shimizu's voice snaps you out of your vivid fantasies and you blink at your reflection in the dark screen of your monitor. "Your computer's been asleep for ten minutes now. Is your mate okay?"

"O-oh, he's fine," you flush with embarrassment at getting caught slacking. "He just needed to give me something I forgot at home."

"Oh, was that all? That's so nice of him," Shimizu says. "Make sure you ask if he wants to come to the pre-heat drinking party for Kensuke-san."

"Is that really okay?" you ask. "It won't set anything off for Kensuke-san and his mate?"

"Nah. They're bound to be all over each other, anyway. We're all used to it — the drinking party is always more for everyone else to send them off with well wishes," Shimizu explains. "The company picks up the tab, too. It started out as a one-off, and we didn't think the company would keep doing it, but we're all in agreement that if the company is going to pay, then we're going to go out and play."

That… makes sense. Even in a company as supportive as this one, of course it doesn't erase the fact that you're all working under them. "Is that… what happened with the sex toys?"

"Yeah," Shimizu slides into the seat next to yours as she picks up on your interest. "At first, everyone thought it was super cringe and weird, right? Why would we want company branded toys? But it's free stuff, and even if we've got great benefits and paid time off and work isn't unbearable, it's still free stuff. Nobody passes up on the free stuff. We all need to work, so we might as well take advantage of everything the company is willing to give us!"

"And you said you don't really notice the branding…"

"I mean, honestly, you've gone through heats before, haven't you? Are you paying attention to anything besides your mate?"

You snort in agreement. "Back when Katsuki and I were figuring out our mating bond, he triggered my heat on accident and I climbed onto his lap in the middle of an izakaya. He had to help me through it in one of his friends' apartments because it was the closest he could get to a private space nearby."

The two of you ended up buying Denki a whole new mattress and bedding set to replace everything you irreparably messed up that week. His friends were gentle in their good natured ribbing, but you'd unfailingly blush any time you passed by that izakaya, and Katsuki couldn't eat there after patrols anymore without popping a boner.

"That sounds typical," Shimizu says, grinning. "I don't care about mates, myself, but I love hearing about the crazy shenanigans the bond ends up putting you through."

"Is that why there's a company-wide announcement anytime someone is about to enter their heat?" you ask. It's a little risky, bringing it up, but Shimizu is nice and clearly eager to chat on company time. "Most places just mark it as time off."

Shimizu twirls her hair around her finger as she hums in thought. "That started before I joined the company, but I think it's more like… public image? I heard it's the vice president who fully supports heats and likes buying all sorts of new toys for everyone to try out. And if we're celebrating it all so publicly, the president can't protest without looking bad!"

"That's… good," you say. You don't know what else to say to this — but thankfully Shimizu hops out of her seat and waves goodbye cheerily as a chattering group of coworkers enters the room. You try to refocus on your work, but not even a packet of chocolate dipped dried mangoes is enough to help you through more than a few reports.

Hearing about the company policies from a coworker's mouth and seeing everyone chatting excitedly about the end-of-the-week drinking party lifts your spirits. Like you told Katsuki originally, you know you'll get used to the idea of everyone knowing about your upcoming heat. It's just taken some time, and seeing how nobody treats Kensuke from Accounting any differently helps.

Now that you're feeling marginally more comfortable about the whole thing with your company, you feel like you can turn to the real task at hand: teasing your mate and winning this silly game of who can make the other beg for it first.

You skip your stop on the train ride home and hop off at the station closest to Ground Zero. Eijiro was delighted to conspire with you in sending Katsuki back to the agency a little early on his shift and the front desk receptionist lets you into the upper floors with a wide smile. If Katsuki can ambush you at work, it stands to reason that you should return the favor.

You slip into his private office and silently thank Mina for insisting on having strong frosted glass for the windows separating their offices from the cubicles of the sidekicks outside. Katsuki's office is plain overall — there's a large wooden desk with a cushy chair behind it, but otherwise it looks like a normal office space at first glance. As you walk around in it, however, you spot a few All Might collectibles, and there's an omamori hanging off of his desk lamp that you picked up for him at your first shrine visit of the year. He also has a polaroid photo of the two of you — his arm slung around your shoulders as you laughed, his free hand flipping off the camera — washi taped to the bottom of his monitor.

"The fuck're you doin' in here," Katsuki demands, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him with a slam. You jerk up in surprise. He got back a lot sooner than you expected.

"How'd you know I was here?" you ask curiously. Katsuki rolls his eyes as he begins dismantling his hero outfit, the loud clanking and clicking of his gauntlets filling the room as you walk over to help him.

"Smelled you from the station," he says. "As if I'd miss you tryin' to sneak in here."

You grin to yourself, somehow pleased that he sensed you even though he's ruined your chances of surprising him. "I just wanted to help you out," you say, trailing your hands up his arms. Katsuki raises one ash blonde eyebrow, clearly sensing your aim, but he lets you shove his hero mask up into his hair, exposing his forehead.

"Oh yeah?" His gauntlets hit the floor with a thunk and he rips off his gloves, tossing them aside as well. "Help me with what, brat?"

"Just, y'know," you bat your eyelashes up at him just to make him crack a sharp grin, "returning the favor from earlier today."

You kiss him first, a deep, melting kiss that makes your knees go a little weak even though you're the one initiating it. Katsuki's eyes narrow as you sink to your knees, but he doesn't stop you as you palm at his already hard erection through the fabric of his hero suit. "Oi, don't start something if you're not gonna finish it."

"I just want a little taste," you say, grinning as he glares down at you for throwing his words from earlier back at him. You hurry to unbutton and unzip his pants, dragging it down his hips and catching on his thick thighs as his cock springs free. He's leaking at the tip, pearly white and oozing, and he groans when you lick your lips at the sight.

"Fuckin'… don't stare at it."

You tsk. "So impatient." Katsuki threads his fingers through your hair gently as you lean forward to press your tongue against the slit, sliding his cock into your mouth with a wet suck. His hips jerk forward as he grunts, but his hand is endlessly gentle in your hair.

"Motherfu— oh, that's good," he pants, tipping his head back and exposing the strong lines of his throat as he groans. You hollow your cheeks and suck his cock down, settling into a familiar rhythm of bobbing on his dick, sliding your tongue along the underside and teasing at the slit as much as you can. You keep one hand on his thigh for balance and use the other to grab the rest of his length, squeezing in tandem with your bobbing. Wet, slick sounds fill the air as you choke and drool around his cock, and the way he throbs in the heat of your mouth sends a shiver down your spine.

"Sh-shit baby, yeah, just like t-that, fuck," Katsuki moans, his husky voice cracking a little on the words. He tips his head forward to watch the way his cock disappears down your throat, thumbing at your cheek and the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. "You little — you little shit, you're gonna make me fuckin' come —"

You let go of his cock to cup at his balls, hanging heavy at the base of him, fondling them as you suck him deeper into your mouth. The strain on your throat makes you choke around him and he grunts, all of his muscles straining as he struggles not to blow his load. You choke on his cock a few more times, your omega senses singing in your veins with the thrill of pleasuring your mate, but as soon as you feel the telltale signs of his impending orgasm, you pull yourself off of him.

Katsuki nearly knocks you over. "You little — I'm gonna eat you alive you — fuck —"

You suckle at the tip of his cock, smiling up at him as he throbs concerningly in your loose grip. He huffs with the crash of his ruined orgasm and stares down at you in aggravated silence. "You want me to keep going?" you ask innocently, close enough that your lips get smeared with precum and saliva as you talk. Your voice is hoarse. "Just say the magic words, baby."

Your boyfriend seems to realize what you want a few seconds after you speak, as if it takes him a moment for his brain to comprehend full sentences. You peer up at him, blinking slowly, his cock mere centimeters from your lips as his face goes through approximately three different stages of grief.

"You're the worst," Katsuki grumbles, shoving you away and folding himself into a squat. You swipe at your face with the back of your hand, grimacing at the spit as you clean yourself up. He notices, because of course he does, and you watch with interest as Katsuki shoves himself upright to wobble to his desk. He tosses you a few tissues and pulls up his pants and boxers before crouching beside you to help you wipe your face. "The second your heat hits, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to feel your legs, you brat."

You suppress a shiver at his words and scratch at your suppressant patch, hidden beneath the high collar of your borrowed shirt. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Katsuki laughs, a short bark that makes you grin. "I hope you're ready, loser," he says, eyeing your lips. "C'mere and give me a kiss."

You wrinkle your nose. "I have dick breath."

"Like I give a shit, pipsqueak." Katsuki nips at your lip as you smile into the kiss, holding onto his shoulders for balance and sneakily smoothing your hands over the dense muscle there. "What're you smilin' about?"

"Just feeling you up."

"Hah?" He's so pretty when he blushes, pink rising high on his cheekbones and staining the tips of his ears red. You nuzzle into his strong neck, inhaling his comforting smoky sweet scent with a sigh of relief. You can feel your omega instincts settling as his scent envelops you properly. Katsuki seems to feel it, too, nudging into your hair and wrapping strong arms around you to keep you close.

After a moment, your legs start to cramp up from the awkward position, so the two of you clamber back up to your feet. Katsuki keeps a firm grip around your arm as you wiggle the feeling back into your toes, and you take advantage of his support to lean heavily against him. "Hey, Katsuki," you say, peering up at him sideways, "when did you steal my fruit themed washi tape?"

"I didn't steal it," he says. You arch an eyebrow. "I just borrowed it." You blink up at him. "Quit fuckin' starin'. It reminds me of you."

Oh. Your heart does a funny little flutter in your chest, which is a little ridiculous considering how long you've been together and the fact that he's literally your mate, but you let the feeling wash over you anyway and beam up at him. "I love you, too."

Katsuki's expression promptly freezes before he rolls his eyes, but his smile is soft. "Let's go already. It's gettin' late."

He holds your hand on the walk to the train station and acts as your wall against the crush of evening commuters. You're clingy — tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie, slipping your fingers through the belt loops of his pants — but Katsuki indulges you, clearly feeling the effects of your pre-heat just as much as you are.

Dinner is a comfortable, teasing affair. You bury your nose into the strong lines of his back as he cooks, pinching the skin of his stomach whenever he makes a snarky remark. He asks about your day and makes you laugh while recounting one of the old ladies on his patrol route who's taken to giving him pointers about how to make cuter bentos.

"You could learn a thing or two from her," you giggle, breathing in deeply.

"Watch it, brat, or I'm puttin' those rice penguins in jail."

The two of you refrain from riling each other up the rest of the night, sinking into the other aspects of your pre-heat instead. He watches with a wrinkled nose as you down a strawberry sando picked up from the konbini after dinner, but he lets you pat your night cream onto his skin and nuzzles your neck while you're tending to your own nightly skincare routine. Katsuki keeps a heavy arm around your shoulders as you tuck yourself into his side, throwing a leg over his thighs as he settles into bed with you.

This is your favorite part of the day — listening to the steady thump of his heart with his scent all around you, teasing him and feeling the low rumble of his voice as he snarks back, running the pads of your fingers over the scars crossing his chest idly and basking in the safety and security of Bakugou Katsuki being in your arms. It's always nice when you can fall asleep with him, when he isn't holed up in his office poring over mission reports or out on the streets taking down villains. You know he'll never say it out loud, but he always kisses you before leaving for patrol in the early mornings, always tucks the blankets back up to your chin to keep out the pre-dawn chill. He has spans of time where he's out more often than not working on taking down big missions, but he always comes back to you.

And with your heat approaching quickly, he starts pawning off his later patrols in order to pick you up from work. This is something like torture for you, personally, because he always smells so fucking good and looks so hot all rumpled and cozy in his post-work clothes. Katsuki makes a funny sound in the back of his throat when you greet him with a hug, slipping his hands a little lower than normal to squeeze your ass and smirking when you squeak and rip yourself away from him.

Luckily he's agreed to meet you a few blocks away from your company building, so you can escape before any of your coworkers notice the two of you. Katsuki gets handsy the closer you get to your heat, but he doesn't push it any further than blatant groping when you pass by him at home, so you retaliate by feeling him up whenever possible. You have no idea if blue balling him at work earlier in the week put the two of you in a stalemate, but you keep your guard up anyway and play by his unspoken rules to keep it to touching only.

It sucks, though.

Every touch makes you shiver; every graze of his lips makes you warm. You can feel the deep, intrinsic ache of your heat simmering just below the surface, the wellspring of desire thrumming through your veins. You're tense — Akane and Shimizu cajole you into fancy beverage breaks because they think you're stressing out too much about work — but your omega senses quiver like a roiling sea being brought to boil, only partially satiated by Katsuki's frequent touches and attention.

It all comes to a head at Kensuke's pre-heat party. Honestly, you should've begged off, but you didn't want to draw suspicion and everyone kept saying how they wanted to meet your mate. Kensuke himself brings along a Dynamight t-shirt in the hopes of a signature, which is just so cute you can't bring yourself to ditch the party.

"Congrats and good luck with your heat," you beam, toasting with Kensuke and his mate, a very pretty brunette who keeps her hand firmly around Kensuke's arm. She gives you a grin and a wink.

"Thanks," she says, "though we shouldn't need it. Ken-chan and I are old hats at this now."

"Your mate's scent is pretty strong, huh?" Kensuke says, tilting his nose up in spite of the grilled skewers being handed around. "It's almost like you're the one in pre-heat with how overpowering his scent is over yours."

"Haha," you swipe a skewer and pretend to be intensely interested in the slightly charred yakiniku. "You're probably just confusing my scent since you're in pre-heat, Kensuke-san!"

"Hm, I guess so," he says easily. His expression suddenly perks up, but you don't need to turn to see why. Every hair on your body raises as that comforting, overwhelming, smoky sweet scent washes over you. "Oh look! It's really Dynamight!"

Fuck.

You feel his red hot stare burrowing into you, and you know without a doubt that he's caught the way you've tensed up. You can feel your nipples perk against the silk fabric of your shirt, straining through your bra, and your panties get undeniably damp as his gaze drags along your form. You feel warm, warmer than you should be in this partially outdoor izakaya, and the air suddenly feels stifling, like you're swimming in smoke.

Katsuki's hand is heavy on your shoulder. You feel his touch like a brand, searing straight through your meager defenses, a spark that flickers as it drifts down to the well of your desire. You know — you know that once it catches, once it alights — you're both screwed.

"Hey, babe," you chirp, leaning into his arm as if your entire body isn't thrumming with want. "This is Kensuke-san and his mate! He brought one of your shirts — would you pretty please sign it?"

Katsuki's red eyes flash as he nods. To everyone else at the party, he probably looks normal. Just a regular Pro Hero alpha, strong and exuding power, all dense muscle and grace and skill, little sparks flying from his hands as he adds a tiny explosion smudge to the end of his signature on Kensuke's merch shirt. The guest of honor and his mate thank Katsuki profusely, and you take advantage of their distraction to slide away towards the bathrooms inside the izakaya proper.

This isn't good. You need to figure out how to get out without anyone noticing that Katsuki's been eye-fucking you since he got here, and then you need to bolt home so you can collapse into your heat in peace. One more touch from your mate and you'll probably drop right into it, but there's no way Katsuki will be able to keep his hands off you tonight.

You press yourself flat against the concrete wall in the hallway for the bathrooms, heart hammering in your chest. Forget worrying about your company's pre-heat shenanigans — you have a new fear unlocked: going into heat at a party full of coworkers.

"Whoa, hey!" Akane's a little louder than usual, a little wobblier on her feet. "The bathrooms are here, yeah?"

You manage to laugh, though there's a pitch of desperation in it that she thankfully doesn't notice. "Yup, they're right here! I just needed a breather. Hey, what happened to sticking to the nonalcoholic stuff?"

"Aw, yeah, I'm having those next," Akane flaps her hand at you breezily. "I'll sober up before I get home! Don't worry your pretty little head 'bout me! Hey, have I ever told you how nice your skin looks? Like, whoaaa."

This makes you giggle. "Do you need help in the bathroom?"

"Nope!" She shoots you a thumbs up. "See ya soon!"

You watch with amusement as she stumbles into the bathroom, but she doesn't hit anything on her way inside, so you lean back against the wall again and take a deep breath. You're aching — a deep, insistent pulse throbbing between your legs as a rich smoky caramel scent tickles at your instincts. Oh, shit.

You barely manage step away from the wall when suddenly Katsuki's there, looming big and broad and setting off every alarm bell ringing in your head. He eyes you with a flinty glare that's more black than red for a moment before he huffs and grabs your hand.

"Uh —"

"Zip it or I'll fuck you right here," Katsuki grits out. Oh, god. Your panties are sticking to your folds, tacky and damp, and you bite back a whimper as he pulls you along. His hand is warm around yours, and even though he's tugging you towards the back entrance of the izakaya, he never moves too quickly for you to keep up.

The two of you burst out into the back alleyway and Katsuki spares a quick glance around before he's on you.

He keeps a hand on the back of your head as he slams you into the dirty brick wall, shielding you even as he wrenches your waist towards him to grind his incriminatingly hard length against you. He kisses you like he wants to eat you alive, wiping out all coherent thought in your brain as your senses strain towards him. "You're gonna kill me," he grunts. You whimper into the kiss and clutch at his shoulders for dear life as he licks into your mouth, filthy and wet, swallowing down your pitched moans as he rocks his clothed cock against your center.

"What d'you want? Fingers or mouth?"

Your eyelashes flutter open in confusion. Your mind feels hazy, lost in the smoky sweetness of your mate, your focus entirely zeroed in on the throbbing of your pussy as Katsuki swears low beneath the clattering of the izakaya door opening.

"Wh— whoops!" the voice sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it. You blearily try to turn your head towards the sound, but Katsuki anchors you closer to him, covering you with his broad shoulders. "I was just — oh! You two should head home! I'll let everyone know you had an emergency!"

The roar of the crowds inside the izakaya rises in volume again before the door clangs shut. Katsuki picks you up before you can figure out what's happening, a strong hand tucking beneath your thighs as you cling to his neck. "Hold on tight."

"What're you— Katsuki, what the fuck!?" The loud, snapping, popping sound of explosions echo in the night before you're suddenly shooting straight into the sky, air rushing past you like you're flying. You tuck your face into his neck and swallow down an aborted scream, because, well — you are flying, propelled through the city skyline by Katsuki's explosive power.

Your boyfriend laughs. The shaking of his chest is familiar, at least, and you concentrate on that and the strong, sweet scent of his scent gland right beneath your lips. It would be downright disastrous for you to bite him now, while you're soaring through the city leaving fireworks in your wake, but you can't help kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulder as your body shivers with want.

There's a thud as he lands heavily and then a muttered curse before the tinkle of glass meeting concrete filters into your ears. You take a peek and catch sight of your apartment's balcony curtains fluttering in the wind, but the perspective is all wrong — why're you looking in as if you're —

"Katsuki," you pinch one of his strong shoulders, "did you just break into our apartment?"

"I'll get the glass replaced next week," Katsuki says, stepping inside and kicking off his boots. You're shivering, hot, feverish. He's warm, too — as usual — but sweat beads across his brow and you know you're close. "Bed, now. Or all our neighbors'll hear you screamin' my name."

Katsuki doesn't put you down. He carries you in a princess hold, the hand supporting your back smelling like smoke and soot, and he kicks the bedroom door shut with one socked foot. "Katsuki, Katsuki," he mocks, and suddenly you realize you've been chanting his name, fingers clenching tight to the hairs on the back of his head. "What d'you want, baby? Fingers or mouth?"

"I want you —"

His laugh is rough, a tortured sound spilling from his lips as he drops you on the bed and immediately kneels between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat as he slides your shoes off and tosses them aside. You lean up on your elbows to watch, wide eyed and breathless, as he trails his lips along the bare skin of your calf, hiking your skirt up with every beat of your heart. "I want you, too," he mutters, pupils blown wide with lust, his smirk pressing into your thigh. "But answer the question."

Your body thrums with anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your core like a siren song. "Katsuki, please —"

Katsuki snaps. A loud riiip tears through the air as he tosses aside the ruined fabric of your panties and then he's on you, his tongue licking dirty and insistent through your folds. You choke on a moan, hips canting into the air as pleasure sparks in your synapses, chasing the feeling as he eats you out like a man starved.

"Katsuki, Ka— nghh, Katsuki, please —"

Your boyfriend swirls his tongue around your clit and you nearly sob as you clench around nothing, your inner walls spasming with your near orgasm. Your thighs are tense, locked tight around his head. Katsuki doesn't seem to mind, lapping at your slick and groaning into your warmth, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs to hold you down.

Distantly you hear yourself whimpering and whining, but Katsuki continues to torture you, bringing you to the brink and pulling back as soon as you start to spasm. Somewhere in the depths of your mind you know there's a way to get him to — to fuck you properly —

You release the blanket you've been twisting in a death grip and scrabble for the pheromone patch on your neck. It takes a few tries as you pant helplessly, your fingers sliding off your sweaty skin, but as soon as your nail digs under the edge you rip it off and drown.

"Haah, fuck you —"

Katsuki rips himself away from your fluttering pussy with a groan and shoves his pants down awkwardly, the thick fabric catching on his thighs but low enough that his cock springs free. You whine at the sight, reaching for him, and he huffs out a laugh as he clambers over you. "You asked for it," he warns, but his voice cracks as the tip of his cock nudges against your wet folds.

"Oh, god, please please please. In," you grab at his arms and tilt your hips up, "Please get inside me."

"Fucking — hell —" Katsuki groans as he pushes inside, but his self control is at an all time low. He doesn't want to hurt you, but you're so wet and warm and your velvety walls are practically squeezing him in a vice grip.

He shoves every hard inch of his cock into you with a grunt, kissing you hard as you fall off the edge into bliss.

White. Sparks. It takes you a moment to come back to your senses, a moan punching through your chest as Katsuki pants into your neck. "Fuck."

"Yeah?" He rolls his hips and you whine at the sensation of being stuffed full of his cock, wiggling as best as you can beneath him. His skin is sweaty and sticky against yours, and you realize pulled his own shirt off. He's shoved your borrowed shirt up and off so that you're nearly naked, and out of the corner of your eye you spot your bra dangling from the doorknob where he tossed it away.

"Katsuki, c'mon, move," you plead. He digs his elbows into the mattress on either side of your head and rolls his hips again, dragging every rock solid inch of him against your insides. You clench around him, sparks skittering up your veins as he bullies his way back in, and then he's gone.

Katsuki fucks you into the mattress. You can barely string together a sentence, holding onto his arms as he shoves himself deep with every thrust. The overpowering scent of him fills the air along with the smell of sex and sweat and your choked off moans. You cling to him as best as you can, tilting your neck up as an offering as his thrusts get deeper and harder, crying out when he reaches to rest your legs on his shoulders, ankles dangling by his head as the changed angle lets his cock kiss a spot inside you that makes you sob.

"Oh, oh, Katsuki, fuck please I need you I want you please please please —"

"I — I got you," he grunts, "just fucking — hah you've gotta —"

"Oh I'm gonna cum, I'm — Katsuki I'm gonna cum!"

Katsuki growls as you leap off the edge again, pressing a strangely sweet kiss to your lips before leaning down further and licking along the side of your neck. You barely have a moment to register what he's doing before his body locks up and he bites you, marking you as his cock spurts and kicks inside you.

"Oh, fuck —"

The heady rush of pheromones sends you spinning dizzily higher, a pleasure so intense lighting up your nerves you nearly black out. Distantly you can still feel Katsuki cumming, thick ropes of white painting your insides as he rocks his hips in tiny, incessant motions against you. He lets go of your neck with a grunt. And then you feel it.

"Ah. Ah." The swell of his knot is thick and alarming, but you force yourself not to tense as he locks up with you. The overwhelming feeling sends your nerves buzzing and you tilt your head to kiss him, languid and sweet.

"How's it?" he asks, breaking the kiss just to press his sweaty forehead against yours. You meet his deep red eyes and brush a kiss along the pink swell of his cheekbones. "I didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," you sigh. Your heart is still thumping like a drum in your chest, but Katsuki is warm and solid and unyielding around and inside you. You're so full. You nuzzle into the neck of your mate. "You're lucky I'm so damn bendy."

The first knot is always the most lucid, the relief of sliding into heat lending clarity to both of your senses before dissolving into a messy, incoherent sex fest. By the end of the cycle you'll have lost track of how many times and how many ways Katsuki takes you — though you know he's fond of the shower and he used to like propping you up against the balcony doors…

"Did you really break the balcony door?" you ask suddenly, disrupting Katsuki's careful kiss to your jaw. Your boyfriend snorts, slowly sliding your legs off his shoulders and wincing lightly as his knot jostles inside you.

"If I had to go through the apartment I would've taken you in the goddamn elevator."

"Oh." You wince as his knot slips slightly. Another thought leaps unbidden to the front of your mind. "Who was that at the izakaya?"

Katsuki shrugs. "Some chick. The one you were helpin' to the bathroom."

Your brain still feels fuzzy with endorphins and the afterglow of white hot pleasure, so it takes you a moment longer to figure out who he's talking about. You groan. "Oh, no… not Akane…"

"She said she'd take care of it," Katsuki assures you, nosing along your neck. "And 'sides, that's not what you should be worried 'bout."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

The grin Katsuki shoots you is shit-eating and terribly, annoyingly endearing.

"You begged for it first."

A few days later, while Katsuki heats up some premade food so neither of you die of malnutrition, you finally remember to turn on your phone. It pings! with notifications, but one flagged as "important" catches your eye.

Shimizu: Hey friend, hope your heat's going well! I've sent along your company care package to be delivered to your apartment, and once you get back we'll have a post heat drinking party for you! I also sent out your pre-heat company-wide congratulations email a few days ago, but don't worry, I'll send it out earlier next time so we can celebrate you properly!

Katsuki pokes his head into the bedroom at your loud groan, two plates piled high with food balancing on his strong forearms.

"What's the matter, pipsqueak?"

"Did we get a delivery?" you ask. Katsuki sets the plates down on the bed beside you and disappears for a moment, but then you hear a loud bark of laughter and he reappears with a large box. "Oh, no. Don't tell me…"

Katsuki reaches in and whips out a dildo with your company's name stamped along the base. "They found out?"

"I'm gonna die," you say. "I can never face any of them ever again."

"So dramatic," Katsuki snorts, setting the box down. He braces his hands on either side of your thighs as he leans down to kiss you. "Wanna see which one makes you beg hardest?"

"We are not using those toys, Katsuki!"

"We'll see how you feel when I've got you beggin' for me again."

#tw omegaverse #tw a/b/o #cw a/b/o #cw omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #cw knotting #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you #bnha writing #mha writing #x reader #fuji writes fic #at long last! hope you enjoy! #lmk if i need to add any other warnings!

[thefanciestborrower]

Nightmare Cure

A short and sweet little drabble featuring my favorite lego duo Jay and Cole engaging in some vorish shenanigans

Written for vore day 2023 :]

Contains soft, safe vore and some goofy banter

     Jay groaned, turning to flop on his back and stare at the slats supporting the bunk above his for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d thought sleeping would have gotten easier now that it had been so long since everything had happened, and truthfully, he supposed being able to close his eyes for any length of time without being assaulted by nightmares was technically an improvement, but he just couldn’t seem to fall properly asleep no matter what he did. Every time he started to finally reach that deep, restful part of sleep the nightmares would start. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest in... gosh...weeks? Months maybe? Visions of restless nights spent in a splintering box, endless games played just to watch him suffer, Nya lying still as death in his arms, a vicious hook digging into... Jay winced, rubbing his eye to rid himself of the phantom pain and bloody memory. If it could even be called a memory at this point since, technically speaking, none of that had ever happened in the first place. 

     He huffed, grabbing his pillow and smothering his face with it. Maybe if he passed out that would count as sleeping and he’d finally get some rest. After about five minutes of trying and failing to suffocate himself with his pillow Jay threw it aside and went back to staring at the slats above him, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers. It wasn’t fair! Sure he knew they had no memory of the event so he couldn’t fault them for sleeping so soundly, but it still felt like a slight. Heck, as far as he knew even Nya was having an easier time than he was, and she remembered everything! If only he could just close his eyes for more than two seconds and still feel safe! He just wanted to rest without feeling like Nadakan would reappear to snatch him away. But the Bounty wasn’t secure anymore. Nowhere was. Nowhere, except… Well it couldn’t hurt to ask right? Steeling himself against the cold he slipped out of bed and padded over to Cole’s bed, careful not to wake the others. Gosh, the last thing he wanted was to be caught asking for this.

     Jay hesitated for a moment, shuffling from foot to foot on the cold wooden floor as he stared at the form of his sleeping friend. He knew Cole wouldn’t mind, he never did, but the request still felt selfish and awkward in his mind. Like he was taking advantage of his friend or something. It was a stupid thought, and he shook his head to clear it. He did this all the time during the day so it should be no different at night right? Right. Steeling himself, Jay reached out to shake the earth ninja awake.

     “Cole.” Jay hissed, prodding his friend in the shoulder. Nothing. Cole barely shifted in his sleep, much to Jay’s irritation. “Cole!” He tried again, jabbing a little harder this time. “Come on boulder brain, wake up.”

     Cole always had been the soundest sleeper of all his brothers, so Jay was unsurprised that his efforts had yet to do anything other than make Cole groan in his sleep, but it was still a little frustrating. Well, if Cole wouldn’t wake up, he could at least opt for his plan B. Sure sleeping next to Cole wouldn’t be as nice as sleeping in him, but it would still be much better than his own bed and he had done it before anyways. Jay hated to admit all that five in the morning Wu loves subjecting them all to was really paying off as he crept under Cole’s blanket, silent and undetected. None of their beds were all that big, just barely enough to fit one person really, but Jay was quite a bit smaller than the average person. A fact which normally aggravated him, but always seemed to come in handy for midnight escapades like this one. It only took a minute for him to get settled against Cole’s chest, finally feeling safe. He sighed as he snuggled down and briefly glanced up at his friend’s face, only to go stiff. Cole’s eyes were open and staring down at him in thinly veiled amusement. Jay went crimson. 

     “Oh, so now you wake up.” He huffed, scooting away from Cole in the limited space he had on the small bed and shooting him an offended glare. He wasn’t actually mad, just embarrassed he’d been caught. Embarrassment that was only made worse as Cole proceeded to laugh at him. Laugh! Well fine then, he didn’t want Cole’s help anyways! Jay rolled over and sat up, resigned to spending another restless night in his own fighting off nightmares, when Cole stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.  

     “Jay wait,” Cole said, his voice soft, if tinged with amusement. “You don’t have to leave; you know I don’t mind sharing.”

     Jay turned to glare at Cole, though the sharp expression softened once he saw the sincerity in his friend’s eyes. Still, he made no move to lay back down. “No no it’s fine I just uh…got a little cold is all but I’m all good now! See? Just gonna head back to my own bed now don’t mind me.” Despite the confident swagger Jay was always carful to layer into his voice his words still shook and stuck in his throat, and he knew Cole would be able to tell so it was best to leave before-

     Cole’s hand grabbed his where it still rested on the bed and Jay froze. “If you’re really that cold, you’re more than welcome to stay zaptrap.”

     Jay blinked. Cole knew he was lying, the way he annunciated ‘cold’ made that clear as day, and yet, he had made no effort to pry into his reasons for doing so. Usually Cole was the first one to poke holes in his lies so the fact that he was going along with things just this once felt…nice. He didn’t want to talk, and Cole knew that, so he’d tried to lighten the mood with a playful insult, and it worked. Jay cracked a characteristically crooked smile and rolled his eyes, trying so hard to appear nonchalant when he was really very grateful.

     “Fine fine I’ll stay, but only if I get to pick where I sleep.”  Jay quipped back. “I’m feeling a little like getting my own private room tonight.” He jabbed softly at Cole’s stomach where his shirt had ridden up in the night and had the great pleasure of seeing his friend’s face turn pink, though his undoubtably looked the same if the burning in his ears was any indication. 

     “Well someone’s feeling demanding.” Cole snorted, sitting up and stretching with a yawn—not that Jay noticed the yawn since he was very pointedly looking anywhere but Cole’s mouth—before reaching around the lightning ninja to grab a single leaf from the bonsai situated neatly on his nightstand. Jay felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He took the leaf from Cole without hesitation and crunched it between his teeth, shuddering at the bitter and overly herbal taste. Sure they’d usually brew the leaves into a proper tea before doing anything like this, but it would still work regardless, and Jay didn’t have the patience to brew a cup of tea right now anyways. The effect was instant. One second the bed was feeling rather cramped with the two ninjas on it, and the next, it looked as though Jay had disappeared. 

     Of course, he hadn’t really disappeared, and Jay couldn’t hold back a little yelp as Cole reached down to pick him up off the mattress, holding him in hands nearly as large as he was. With as often as they used this tea, you’d really think he’d be used to being picked up by now, but the feeling of vertigo never really went away. Still, he was anything but scared as Cole lifted him to his face.

     “Well look at that! And here I was thinking you couldn’t get any shorter.” Cole laughed, poking Jay in the chest with a finger that was promptly swatted away. 

     “Oh ha ha, you’re a real comedian bolder brain.” Jay shot back without missing a beat. “How long did it take you to come up with that one, a whole five seconds?”

     “Six actually!”

     Jay sighed, rolling his eyes as Cole grinned at him. Why he’d chosen such an annoying best friend was beyond him, but then again you don’t really choose best friends do you. They kinda just show up and you end up stuck with them whether you like it or not. For what it was worth, Jay really was rather fond of Cole. He’d rather die than admit that of course, but it was true. 

     Realizing Cole hadn’t moved in a few seconds and was just sort of staring at him, Jay decided to take matters into his own hands. He leaned forwards, planting his hands on Cole’s bottom lip. “Alright are you just gonna keep looking or am I actually going to get the room I requested.” The night air wasn’t cold, but it was chilly and in the wake of his unsettling dreams the air felt icy to Jay.

     Cole didn’t even bother trying to respond. The moment Jay seemed to be leaning his full weight on his lip Cole opened his mouth and nudged him forward, sending the lightning ninja tumbling in with a shriek and landing face first on his tongue. Jay spluttered indignantly. The change in temperature was incredible compared to the cold still encasing his hips and legs, and the tongue under him so soft and yielding he might have fallen asleep instantly had he not been so mad. However Jay was more than used to those things and they could stand to be ignored in favor of yelling at his best friend for shoving him face first into a puddle of spit. 

     “Gross Cole!” Jay whined, propping himself up on his elbows while his legs flailed outside. “You could have warned me first!” Yes, he had asked for this, but he still liked being difficult to get down on principle. Not that Cole ever seemed to choke around him the way Kai or Lloyd would, and Zane didn’t count because he didn’t have a gag reflex, but still. Course, he always went down easy for Nya, but that was because she was the love of his life and therefor shouldn’t count either. Cole, unrepentant for his actions, responded to Jay’s protests by promptly licking him full up the torso, dousing him instantly in buckets of saliva. Jay spluttered but knew better than to open his mouth now.

     Never one to play with his food for long, Cole quickly slurped Jay’s legs up while simultaneously starting to swallow his torso, a sensation Jay really would never get used to. Being swallowed felt a lot like being squeezed out of a toothpaste tube, if a toothpaste tube was alive and warm and full of slime that is. His legs quickly followed the rest of him down Cole’s throat, and as a series of soft swallows pushed him deeper, he couldn’t help but relax completely. Somehow Cole just felt so…safe. Safer than the bounty ever had, and somehow even safer than the rest of his brothers. Sure he loved them all with his whole heart, but Cole was like a living fortress. An immovable mountain of earth and muscle with the softest heart who could protect them all against anything. 

    After one final swallow Jay slipped down into Cole’s stomach, surprised to find it was nearly empty. When it came to Cole his stomach almost always was full of something, but as Jay stretched and made himself comfortable, he decided it was the middle of the night and dinner didn’t tend to stick around as long as he did. Flopped over in a shallow puddle of chyme Jay felt himself fading fast, his lack of sleep finally catching up with him as Cole’s stomach kneaded and churned around him. One of the walls suddenly pushed in more than the others and Jay found himself momentarily pinned as Cole felt around for him. Not that he minded, he rather enjoyed being squished. 

     “Comfy in there sparky?”

     “Yeah, thanks dirtclod.” Jay yawned, burying his face in the walls as he drifted off to sleep. “Wake me before everyone else so I can dry off alright? I don’t want Wu to yell at me for leaving puddles in the hall again.” 

     Cole laughed, his soft voice buzzing through the walls. “No promises bluebird. Just get some sleep alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

#happy vore day everyone take some besties being silly! #they are both so precious to me #the fact that I finished this today is a miracle #no beta we die like men #soft vore #safe vore #vore writing #vore fic #My writing #Cj writes #fandom vore #n.injago vore #g/t vore #Jay is very good at pretending he doesn’t want something when he very much does lmao #what a goof I’ve never related to any character harder in my life #This is probably so ooc but I don’t care it’s cute

[queenerdloser]

me, rereading several of my half-finished oneshots and drafts: huh i love this. damn i'm a good writer. man, i want to read more of this.

me, remembering i have to sit down to write to finish these fics: ah

#liveblogging life #i was cleaning out my scrivener projects last week and man my oneshots file is uh... lmao #i start SO many projects based on a whim usually write a decent chunk and then get distracted or lose motivation #and then i come back to it and im like wow this is actually a great idea i love some of these scenes! but oh shit #to finish it i have to actually write the rest.... fuck #there's a couple of mcu oneshots that have been in there for literal years that i desperately want to finish but do NOT have motivation #also thinking about keep to the stars... i never got to get to my favorite plotlineeeeeee :(((((( #but also i didnt dump 170k words on ao3 to just never finish it so maybe one day. the halamshiral chapter has been half done #for like. three years. lmao. i think ive even got like 15k of it #also several times i went HUH. that was a good line/piece of dialogue/clever moment #it's wild how much more i like my own writing the longer i go between looking at it lmao

[nomaishuttle]

i simsed my ideal apartment :]

#THE FURNITURE IS JUST PLACEHOLDERS LMAO my actual furniture would be much nicer... #also We r ignoring the fact that i didnt have room to put a desk 😭😭 in my irl dream apartment there would be a desk in a little nook #i will perhaps finish this some other day.. whos 2 say #its also annoying bc its. an apt obv but even tho ts4 'has' 'apartments'. you all know what i mean LOL #also the ts4 apts are all fucking huge likee. and i legit hate the fact you cant build yr own apt building 😭😭 it legit means that if you #want to have an apt it HAS to be in san myshuno and like. man apartments exist outside of cities and also it gets rly fucking tiring to pic #from the same 3 ugly ass stupid layout ass apartments everytime u wanna move a sim into an apartment. but whatever #but no like i said the sims 4 apartments r all fucking gigantic but also shaped in such a way that its like. impossible to make a good floo #plan.... it sucks :[[ #like i dont wanna live in a shoebox or anything but i dont need a like. 5000 square feet apt or whatever... #but ya this is missing some things id have as well just due to. limitations of the game. id also want to have a coat closet a linen closet #etc... i lovee little closets #and obviously id also have A closet closet bc as is nowhere for my sim 2 put clothes! #ill see abt drawing a floorplan for a more likee real life of what id want

[godofsmallthings]

NOTHING is funnier than receiving a text from ur fandom bestie that's like girl don't go on tumblr

#i don't know and i don't want to know lmao #i have 18 pics left in my disposable for eras shenanigans!! #also i've been feeverishly friendship braceleting in class all day 🥰 #finished a fearless and an evermore one #will probs knock out at least two more before the show and if that's all i get to it's whatever #not to knock the beaded bracelet girlies bc obvs those are so cool and just as much a labor of love #but ive been working on these on and off since january #had never made a friendship bracelet before at all #and now it's a fun little skill i have! #i think after this is all over i'm just going to keep making one on my water bottle at all times #it's so fun and calming #i want to try and learn different/cool designs #apparently some of my classmates like to watch me make them in class the way you watch ppl play 2048/tetris #which is just so :'))))))) #having a big i love my life i love the people in it moment lately idk (about FUCKING time) #like i don't think i've ever felt this way really #ANYWAY enough oversharing on tumblr dot com ily guys we will make it through the matty healy disc horse #vi is typing...

[firelordhotman]

friendly reminder that even if youre open about something on your blog, even if you think its so obviously right in your about/description/pinned/whatever, most of the people who will interact with you are not even looking that far at your blog. they dont know your name or your pronouns or your disabilities or your interests or your credentials or whatever you think is just *so obvious* that they *must* be intentionally ignoring it just to hurt you. ESPECIALLY not if theyre a random stranger who youve never interacted with once before, has never interacted with you once before either, and has absolutely zero reason to care about you. its not a personal attack, its just a fact. this is literally the internet

#i am TIRED. yes this is a vaguepost idc #utter stranger shows up in my notifs DEMANDING i explain a simple little joke tag about me and my loved ones experiences #as if i owe them the slightest ounce of attention in my day #and then when i do explain my & my loved ones lived experiences. they get mad & say im using THEIR personal experiences as a weapon #like. i dont have the slightest clue what your personal experiences are! i dont even know your name!! and i dont want to nor do i have to!! #i dont mean this rudely. but factually: you are not important enough to me to care even a little bit about your experiences #i dont bring up suicide or addiction or any shit like that because its Your experience. bc i have no fucking idea what your experience is #i talk about those things because its MY EXPERIENCE. that IM TALKING ABOUT. in the tags of a post that doesnt belong to either of us no les #this is probably the last thing im gonna post abt this bc i know youre still up my ass looking at everything i post rn #but to finish off. i was never even making a Point about anything in the tag. i wasnt starting discourse about anything. #it was just an Acknowledgement of a shared experience that me and many of my loved ones have. whether u like it or not #like literally i dngaf if YOU personally wouldnt describe your experience that way. We do describe it that way! We can be different #i just made a silly little tag for my friends to see. and YOU decided that you were entitled to both hear my life story and blatantly #misinterpret everything i say about it. like literal 'how dare you say we piss on the poor' type shit #like. saying 'x can cause y' does not mean im saying 'y is literally x' fucking OBVIOUSLY. god #i didnt fucking ask for this! YOU DID!! YOURE the one who DEMANDED it of me unprompted #& clearly must have just gone looking thru the tags of posts for ppl to beef with lollllll #i mean cmon. you didnt follow me i didnt follow you and that wasnt even your post. theres no other explanation lmao its p obvious #anyway i hope u find a better hobby or at least a more fun and fulfilling way to use this website. sincerely #at least get some better critical thinking skills before picking stupid arguments with random strangers online #but hey! play stupid games win stupid prizes<3 right?? #also one final note: to hear someone talking about the lived experiences of them and their real life loved ones and go 'hmm. sounds fake'. #its just giving Friendless. its giving 'how could anyone make fun art without doing crazy drugs!!'. #its giving 'Wait yall have friends irl? i thought it was just a joke'. its fucking hilarious and im gonna think about it forever #thank u for a lifetime supply of laughs godspeed

[pessimisticprincess]

saturdays are for rotting in bed 🌈

#hopefully i can get myself to be productive at some point #maybe get myself to actually talk to someone #also really need to take care of my venus fly trap babies and wanna finish the painting i started the other day #and watch violent night finally and keep playing high on life #why is it so hard to do stuff that i want to do #wish i wasnt actually made out of depression lmao

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

if someone took me into a creepy ass room, hooked me up to a lie detector, blasted projector light right into my eyes and asked me to read an apology statement when i did nothing wrong, i would simply not read it. sorry to helly but i'm different

#blue fandom ramblings #severance 2022 #severance #im watching this now #instead of. getting caught up on the billion things im behind on #or finishing a fic i started last week #blue personal ramblings #but like i do not apologise when i have done nothing wrong. you can try to pressure me as much as you want but i wont do it #last week i was non verbal for nearly the whole week and someone tried to make me talk be pulling me into a room to #'discuss what's going on' and they started by asking me a non-polar question #i guess he thought my non-verbality was a choice? and by waiting me out he could get me to talk? lmao think again bitch #i sat there for however many minutes. waiting HIM out. i was fully making little scenarios in my head for my ongoing WIP #by the time HE lost his stupid little game and finally asked me a question i could answer by nodding/shaking me head #yea i couldve made some sort of gesture indicating i needed to write. to respond to him #but here's the thing. im a STUBBORN BITCH #play stupid games with me? lose like the stupid little idiot you are. #ANYWAYS my point is. in helly's shoes i simply would Not read the statement. #ive got all day bitch. ive got the rest of my life. bitch. fucking try me. #queued

[ravnloft]

i love the idea of all my video game pcs existing simultaneously in-universe specifically becauase it begs the question "how early did they abandon the tutorial/main questline" -> damn how many times has lucan had that claw stolen -> amma stole it. sigg got it back. nól stole it again

#tes posting #finally. a tag for these... to go with my bg3 rambles... #anyway. amma stole it cause she wanted the treasure. she was caught in the imperial ambush but escaped as soon as alduin showed up. #then she ate the word of power and went. hey uncle sheo turn on your location i just wanna talk [DECEPTION: DC 20] [FAILURE] #en route to solitude she completes some miscellaneous quests. joins the guild and brotherhood. finishes brotherhood questline 😔 #mid-game she winds up doing the mara quest as part of restoring the thieves' guild and mara breaks her curse and restarts the story :) #anyway amma pawns the claw to arvel toot sweet and books it to whiterun. #sigg rolls into riverwood the next day like 'yeah i risked my life fighting a dragon for jarl ulfric. it's whatever. camilla are you single' #gets the claw back for camilla lmao. she doesn't even remember lucan's name #then nól steals it. AGAIN #she wants it to give to the hagravens in exchange for nettlebane lmao #probably leaves a little scrap of parchment saying SORRY. I NEEDED IT :(

[orcelito]

Curry chicken for BREAKFAST

#speculation nation #spicy breakfast with some nice coffee. life is good. #im working on finishing up my reread of itnl so i can resume writing today #probably not likely the new chapter will be out tonight. tho who knows ive surprised myself before lol #naw i work tomorrow morning i cant stay up too late. wouldnt have time to edit even if i did manage to finish writing today. #but Good Chance i'll have it out tomorrow. we'll see :p #i want to. it has now been over a week since the last update and i HATE that #which yea a week isnt That much time. but id been updating like every other day lmao i am not liking this lack of productivity #i have big plans for this story and i wanna get there as fast as possible #which means WRITING!!!!!! #tho im also gonna b working on watching the 98 anime too. which ngl is probably great for me writing meryl & milly #bc i just plain rushed thru the original trigun manga in one sitting. my memories of it are spotty. #aka why i need to continue my official reread of that too lol #ive jumped around rereading all sorts of different spots of the manga for research purposes. but that's always later stuff #aside from like chapters 17-20 of trigun original. those are very useful chapters. #uhmmm yea coffee and curry. aw fuck im turning this into a leblanc place huh. doing sojiro proud. #intl shit #Sure. it's relevant.

[chrollohearttags]

aot boys + ovulation week (feat. armin, eren, ony, connie, jean and reiner)

exactly as it sounds, another one of my early morning thoughts getting the best of me..a little drabble, nothing more lmao! This is also filthy

content + themes: black coded reader, ovulation, pregnancy mentions, breeding kink, squirting, masturbation, birth control, brief mentions of anal sex, spit play, fingering and some other thingsss

📝: this literally came to me out of nowhere. They are not fact or gospel, just my own opinion. But I could be wrong, feel free to change it how you please.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .** . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|

eren • the tease: the second he gets wind that you’re ovulating, it’s almost as if he takes the shit as a challenge. He doesn’t directly say anything but he notices the signs fairly quickly. The way you clench your thighs together when he’s around, flustering when he has no shirt on, etc. he finds it so cute in fact that he can’t help but to make your life harder. It’s not a matter of if you’ll cave to your urges but when and he definitely tries to speed up the process. Smirking once he realizes why you’re acting so strange. Walking around the house in gray sweatpants with no boxers, touching you even more so than he already does and is just incredibly flirtatious. Even grabbing your waist as he walks past you in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, princess? You look a lil’ tense, c’mere.” “I’m fine, Eren. I promise..” but he knows better than that when he catches you touching yourself because he happened to say something in passing earlier in the day that turned you on. (mind you: he called you a ‘good girl’ whilst the two of you were doing your morning workouts because you finished a set) but he doesn’t care..now that he sees you writhing around, spreading yourself open and stuffing those nimble little fingers in that dripping pussy, he’s glad to come help. “Look at you..so cute. I knew it.” And you’re in for it now because it doesn’t take long before he’s got you in his lap, back pressed to his chest with your legs spread completely apart as his larger digits are now thrashing around inside of you with a thumb on your clit and he’s whispering in your ear. Pinching your nipples and even kissing on your neck whilst he watches you turn into a drooling mess. “…You just needed me to come help you out. I’m right here..let daddy take care of you, baby..imma stretch that shit out. Use all them’ pretty holes..how’s that sound?”

armin • the sneak: he’s not dumb by a long shot! If anybody can sense when it’s that week for you, it’s him. The brainiac even has it down to a science..even if you don’t tell him, he can guess from the time you’re off your cycle till then. And once he does guess correctly, he’s on the hunt then and you’re his prey. He tries to use reverse psychology and all the other nonsense to lure you in. He clearly sees you’re trying to avoid him and not cave because he knows you’ll pounce like a wild animal the second you do. He’ll say things along the lines of: “it’s okay, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Or “..I just thought you looked so pretty today, that’s all. I couldn’t help myself but I understand. We can wait until you’re ready.” After an intense makeout session that stops right before things get too far gone. And while he’s playing his little innocent act, you're frothing between your thighs and praying that he rips your clothes off right then and there. He also gets a kick out of seeing you get aroused by the simplest things. For example, when he’s fixing something in the house and his veins protrude from his hands and you wish it was your throat he was squeezing. It doesn’t take two hours, less known a week for you to give in and all but beg him to fuck you! And he’s excited because this man all but dreams of getting you pregnant! “I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart..all you have to do is ask.” Declaring as you find yourself on your knees, swallowing his dick whole (because he knows it gets you so wet) before he lightly cups your chin and fills your mouth with spit before rewarding you with a kiss. “Might even put a baby in you..you’ll look so fucking good.”

onyakopon • the pleasure dom: this man…this man right here. You might as well be prepared to block his damn number because he’ll have you ready to live in his skin when it’s all said and done. He knows you’ll try to evade him and act as if you’re just busy but he knows. He can tell you’re nervous around him or not wanting to make eye contact but he wants you to admit it. Tell him what it is that’s really on your mind. “What you acting so shy ‘round me for? Don’t be like that, ma. I’m your man. You can tell me anything.” As if he doesn’t already know you want him to use you as a fleshlight and make you come until you’re seeing stars. That much is apparent by the way you’re rubbing up on his chest, twirling his gold chain and biting the tip of your finger whilst you’re laying in bed. “What’s up with you, mama? Sum’ on your mind? Tell me what you want..” And it doesn’t take him long to deduce or figure things out when you start to move that hand lower towards his gym shorts. Naturally, he strives to give you exactly what you want so moments later, he’s between your thighs, allowing you to rub on his head; wrapped with a silk durag as he devours your pussy. Sucking and lapping on your clit…drinking in your juices. He knows you get wet but it’s not even a full ten minutes of him pleasuring you that you found yourself squirting into his mouth. Of course, there isn’t a single complaint from your man. He lives for it! “Lemme have that shit..c’mon, baby.” Adamant on the fact that he’s not coming up until he’s certain you’re satisfied. Fuck his own pleasure. And once he sets you atop his dick, bouncing you up and down, he’s focusing solely on you. On your orgasms, on the way your body reacts and especially how much you’re gushing down his shaft with those creamy juices. Squeezing him so tight as if you don’t want to let go. “Take that dick, baby..get your nut. That’s all I’m worried ‘bout right now. Get your fucking nut.”

connie • the freak: mr. constance shows no restraint as is but when you’re ovulating, it goes from bad to worse. Because he knows you won’t hold back either. So nothing is off limits! Every position, every kink, every type of nasty, salacious thing you can think of, he’s using this week as a means to let them all out. Your sex drive is super high so he’s matching your energy tenfold. “Imma fuck the shit out you, wait till I get home.” Vowing with conviction when you send him videos and texts throughout the day filled with freaky treats. The stuff you’re saying to one another is down right deplorable but you love every moment of it. He gets especially excited when you send him a small clip of you touching yourself and the web of arousal is twirled around your nails. You find yourselves engaging in every debaucherous activity possible from letting him bend you over the kitchen counter, legs spread open as he pounds you relentlessly..hands on your throat, hand roped between your thighs as it strokes your clit and you’re so sensitive, he loves it. He’s kissing on your neck, telling you how pretty you look. It’s bliss for the both of you. But then things intensity and Connie is NAWT playing. When you keep begging him for more, he doesn’t hesitate. He does everything he can to fulfill your filthy urges. Exploring every kink that you guys have wanted to try. Sucking toes, spitting in your mouth, fucking your throat..he’s using every hole you have. Even that one..he may even throw some liquor or weed into the mix and things really get fun. “Open that shit up, baby. That ass feels so fucking good. Love how nasty you get f’r me..” y’all literally never rest when that week rolls around!

jean • the bedroom bully: jean is a whole lover boy, no doubt..but he’s lowkey a bully in bed! Jean sort of likes it rough and he lovesss that you never shy away from telling him how you’re feeling…sometimes! When you’re ovulating, it depends on how you’re acting and how he’ll proceed. If he knows you’re in the mood and you’re being a bit more aggressive than usual, he’s with it. He’s loving that you’re tugging at his belt buckle, begging to suck him off.. “yeah, baby? That’s what you want? So what are you waiting for…suck this fucking dick.” Petting your head on the way down and trust, he’s not gentle about it. Even making you hold it in place.. “this is what you wanted, right? For me to treat you like a little slut? C’mon, baby..answer me.” Slapping your cheek in the process. If he’s feeling extra rude, he might deprive you. If you’re acting a little shy, he’s gonna find out what’s going on. He’s aware that you can’t control yourself and he doesn’t hold it against you (but he certainly exploits it!) When he sees you on your phone and acting a little secretive, he gets curious..only to find out you’ve been watching porn and he had a field day! “You’re really something else this week..” Pushing you against a wall, shoving his fingers into your panties and roughly grasping your chin as he forces you to keep eye contact. “What’s this? Can’t even wait for me, huh? That’s alright, I’ll take care of you.”

reiner • the breeder: good god, need I say more?! This man’s breeding kink stays on go as is but when ovulation week rolls around, you have to all but lock his ass out of the house because he’s going to be on you so bad and honestly, you want it. You want him just as desperately so you have to be the one to exercise caution because you know he won’t! You’re up against the kitchen counter or folding laundry and he’s all up on you..touching, kissing and licking on every inch of your skin, just not wanting to let go.. “Reiiii, baby..we can’t, not right now.” Whole time, you’re dripping between your thighs, your nipples are erect and you even find yourself whimpering and rutting yourself against him. “Really, sugar? Because the way you’re grinding on my dick says otherwise.” And it’s on from there, you cave! You cave bad..allowing him to bend you over right there, hoisting your skirt up and fucking you like an animal. You’re both so unhinged and primal; moving about the house in different positions, getting filled in each spot. He’s filled you with so much cum, he can barely even stay in it. You’re scratching at his back, faintly grasping him because you’re terribly overstimulated. “C’mon, darling. You can take one more f’r me. You’re gonna look so good when I fill you up..give you my baby.”

#aot x black reader #multi character #aot drabbles #eren x black fem!reader #armin x black reader #jean x black reader #connie x black reader #connie springer #eren jaeger #armin arlert #reiner x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #aot au #black reader smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #snk smut #eren yeager #eren jeager smut #eren jaeger x reader #jean kirschstein #reiner braun #onyankopon smut #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #cw overstimulation #armin smut #connie smut #snk drabble #smut drabble

[fanficimagery]

The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that…"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

#jax x reader #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #jax teller #happy lowman #abel teller #mc romance #motorcycle club romance #dark romance

[queenerdloser]

re-reading a dai time travel fic and by god it really makes me want to write my own bc the Implications of a time-travel in dai is so full of crunchy, crunchy angst. but every time i try to write an inquisitor who is not my beloved kai lavellan my brain blanks out.

#i dont want to use kai bc i want to write it as a bull/inquisitor fic and even tho kai loves bull they definitely wouldnt romance #i did tentatively start a new game a few months back with a different lavellan inquisitor who i liked #he's much more. idk. soft-hearted than kai? more open to vulnerability than kai. less defensive about his own kindness #me eyeing the half-finished chapter of ktts: god am i really thinking about a new dragon age fic. in 2024. #time travel fics are my one true weakness i love them soooooo much lmao #and considering time travel is a LITERAL GAME MECHANIC there's like. not that many in dai fandom???? #and honestly a truly horrendous lack of good long bull/inquisitor fics. whats up with that. #after dorian/lavellan i actually really love the bull/inquisitor dynamic. he was my second romance. #and there are for sure some really good ones but NOT ENOUGH. #as always if i cant find what i am specifically craving i will fucking write it myself i guess!!!! #liveblogging life #does anyone care about this? probably not. but i've had this stupid fic doc open for days now and im losing my mind.

[joelscurls]

feel it in your bones

next part

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone. 

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull. 

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling. 

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone. 

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school. 

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house,  re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck. 

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont,  with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it. 

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are. 

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor. 

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school. 

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it. 

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.” 

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front,  scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation. 

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project. 

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time. 

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall.  Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear. 

“Professor!” 

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower. 

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer,  strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.  

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name. 

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing. 

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon. 

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.” 

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?” 

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down. 

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes. 

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight. 

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them. 

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting. 

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.” 

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs. 

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer. 

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well. 

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced. 

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting. 

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...” 

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now. 

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking. 

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that. 

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules. 

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone. 

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs. 

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids. 

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder. 

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky. 

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches. 

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour. 

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle. 

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.” 

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone. 

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks. 

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say: 

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing. 

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.” 

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?” 

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even. 

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation. 

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you. 

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.” 

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.” 

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole. 

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side. 

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks. 

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door. 

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught. 

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.” 

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now. 

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re  both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.” 

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him. 

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames. 

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want. 

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind. 

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.  

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it. 

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh. 

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble. 

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?” 

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet. 

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin. 

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble. 

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips. 

After a beat, he looks up at you. 

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat. 

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave. 

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are. 

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.” 

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough. 

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.” 

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders. 

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles. 

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips. 

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask. 

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze. 

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his. 

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too. 

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly. 

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it? 

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair. 

You tap on the screen, waking it up. 

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you. 

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.” 

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you. 

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips. 

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same. 

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out. 

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away. 

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again. 

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you. 

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible. 

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter. 

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him. 

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late. 

“You buyin’?,” he jokes. 

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.” 

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move? 

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone  else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’. 

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it. 

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in. 

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough. 

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh. 

Joel raises an eyebrow at her. 

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored. 

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot. 

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers. 

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.” 

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator. 

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive. 

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind. 

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet. 

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time. 

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.” 

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island. 

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes. 

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.” 

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours. 

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you. 

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer. 

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous. 

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer. 

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second. 

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant,  “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently. 

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel. 

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island. 

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now. 

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling. 

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing. 

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead. 

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice. 

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it. 

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans. 

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat. 

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus. 

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much.  “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm. 

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop. 

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue. 

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.  

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch. 

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body. 

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied. 

But Joel isn’t just any man. 

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him. 

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move. 

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again. 

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there. 

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.” 

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours. 

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back.  A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words. 

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him. 

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.” 

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven. 

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy,  cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend. 

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound. 

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively  to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids. 

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard. 

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard. 

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels. 

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours. 

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food. 

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer. 

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional. 

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it. 

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds. 

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. 

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t. 

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.” 

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease. 

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!” 

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes. 

“What?” 

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again. 

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself. 

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.” 

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.” 

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.” 

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes. 

You’ve never been so excited for the future. 

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

[on-leatheredwings]

House Arrest

Yandere! Batfam / Bruce Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

For a request, Munchausen's syndrome by proxy with Bruce? Like, he keeps reader sick so she can't leave him or interact with someone outside the family. And maybe the rest of the batfam is in on it?

[a/n: Didn’t know if you wanted this platonic or not so I didn’t specify! In my head its romantic with bruce though lmao]

> word count: 1581

> Tw: gaslighting, munchausen’s syndrome by proxy, yandere-typical behaviors!

You sit in anticipation, foot tapping against the stone floor. There’s an entire miniature hospital set up for you down here in the Batcave. Respirators, diagnostics machines, and other expensive medical equipment that would be better served in Gotham General. 

Helping people recover. 

So patients could some day leave. 

You used to love being in the Batcave. It was the family’s little secret. When you officially joined the family, the Batcave was now your secret as well. But ever since falling ill months ago, bedridden with a sickness whose cause continues to elude everyone… being here is depressing. You now notice it’s damp down here. Dark. Lifeless.

Bruce sits at the Batcomputer, the screen’s light painting over his face in a green wash. You watch his eyes scan line after line of your results. Reminds you of a typewriter. Methodical. Orderly. Nearly inhuman. When he sighs, your heart stops. 

Fuck.

He turns to you, face grave. “You’re still ill.” 

Your eyes start stinging with an onset of tears that you furiously try to blink back. 

“... H-How ill? How bad? Am I any better?” you ask, as if bartering with him will make the situation any different. As if bartering with God ever made any difference for mere mortals such as yourself.

Bruce’s face is still. 

“You haven’t improved.” 

Your hopes crash down around you like glass. You aren’t better at all? Even though you haven’t had a fever in weeks? Even though you’ve been working out with enough energy to keep up with Damian? He was exerting perhaps only 10% of his effort, but still. Your lymph nodes aren’t even swollen anymore. Tim had told you as much, accidentally contradicting Bruce’s insistence that they had been earlier that morning. 

“But I feel better,” you croak. You hear footsteps behind you approach and you swallow drily, nearly hissing at the offender. It’s Dick, and damn him. You don’t want to be placated right now.

“Are you experiencing any headaches? Shortness of breath?” Bruce asks, eyes still trained on you. You try to recall. 

“... I may have had a migraine this morning…” At Bruce’s weary shake of the head, you blurt, “But it’s passed. I’m perfectly fine. And no shortness of breath.”

“... I’m sorry. But if you’ve been having symptoms like that, along with your being immunocompromised…” Bruce doesn’t even have to finish the sentence. You won’t be leaving the Wayne Manor grounds for a long time. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

You feel a hand on your shoulder. You look up and see Dick, whose face is somber but offers an encouraging smile. 

“Well, I’m back in town for the time being. We can hang out all the time.” His expression brightens as an idea pops into his head. “And I can call Tim, Jason, Duke–! Maybe even Cass and Steph… We can have a board game night tonight!” He sounds as chipper as you are miserable.

Damian approaches from behind, leaving the shadows. His arms are folded. “If that’s the case, I’ll humor Grayson and let him capture some of my fleet for once.” A popular choice was Risk, perfect for the family who’s entire lives revolved around combat and strategy. But you didn’t want to play Risk again. You didn’t want to have a board game night, no matter how many of the family came. You wanted to see people. 

Other people. Everyone here is your family. 

You want fucking friends again. You wanted a job again – a sentiment you would’ve laughed at even just five months ago. You wanted any semblance of a life again.

Bruce’s eyes haven’t left your trembling form once, two chips of slate-gray peering over steepled hands.

“Thank you, Dick. Damian. But I think she could use some time alone.”

Dick’s hand releases your shoulder, retracting as if burned. None of them are the boss here. It’s Bruce who is my warden, your mind whispers darkly. 

“Right! Don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.” Dick sees himself out, taking Damian with him. “See you tonight.” And that feels like a sentencing to your fate.

Now the two of you alone, Bruce stands, offering his arm wordlessly. You know what this means. You take it, linking yours with his without thought or protest. Bruce liked to ensure you were always within his reach, as if you were prone to fainting spells. This was less humiliating for you than him carrying you through the estate, you suppose. 

“Why, yes, let’s take a turn around the grounds!” you used to exclaim, making your voice posh and British, mimicking the regency romance movies you had been watching all the time. 

Now, months later, you just sullenly allow him to lead you. Your surroundings pass by and you vaguely recognize that you are exiting the Batcave, walking through the manor, and out into the never-ending expanse of a well-kept lawn. 

It’s a sunny, idyllic spring day after months of overcast winter. 

And thank god you could still traipse outside when you wanted, even if fenced in. Bruce told you when you had first fallen ill that he had installed some high-tech, anti-air pollution gadget. Wayne Manor was effectively your own personal bubble. Fresh air was the only thing keeping you sane, lately. 

You two pass by the garden, a labor of love Alfred started. You and Damian tend to it now… and mainly the latter, these days. You haven’t had any energy for gardening as of late. Fatigue is a symptom, you hear Bruce’s voice whisper in the back of your mind. But you don’t feel fatigue… rather, just depressed. But of course, isn’t fatigue a symptom of being depressed…? A familiar brain fog crawls into your mind. Your head was starting to hurt.

You look across the lawn, onto the horizon. Gotham’s dark skyline sits there, enticing. When night falls, it’ll glimmer and twinkle with light. There is a whole world out there. And, God, you love the Waynes, but they aren’t the world. You need to distract yourself. Bruce, ever the lover of pleasant silences, is going to have to distract you from thoughts that make you want to leap off the second story balcony of your bedroom.

Should you ask, “How’s work?” No. You find you don’t care. 

“How’s Jason?” you say instead, feeling Bruce stiffen at the mention of his most tenuous relation.

He wasn’t around as much, but when he was, he was always relaxing with you in your room. You have a whole shelf for the knick knacks he brings. “Don’t worry. They’re clean,” he’d snort at his former mentor, because Bruce required everything to be thrice sanitized before coming into your possession.

“... Better.”

You’re glad. That’s one good thing, you guess. 

“Bruce,” you croak. 

He looks at you, face alight in expectation. 

“Maybe I should just go,” you say, small and weak. Your eyes don’t leave the sight of Gotham skyscrapers, stretching to the sky. Bruce stills, stopping you both in your tracks.

“What do you mean, ‘go’?” he says carefully.

You remove yourself from his arm and gesture to the city. “Just go. Leave. I mean, I can’t stay here forever.” Bruce looks genuinely confused, as much as he can. 

“Of course you can.”

“No, I can’t!” you screech. Frustrated, you tear at your hair. “I can just be an outpatient somewhere– I can go for hospital treatments every week– or everyday– whatever!

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Rage flares in you and you gnash your teeth at him. By now, that all-too-familiar brain fog has flooded your brain. But you try to fight it. You have to fight it. Like trying to crawl out of rapidly-sinking quicksand, you fight it.

“I-I know what I’m saying. I’m saying–”

“You’re saying to just let you die,” Bruce sharply returns. “To give up, let you die, and leave us to grieve.” 

“No–”

“Stephanie.” 

You meet his eyes again at the name, which are resolute and as blue as ever. 

“Cassandra. Duke.” Your stomach churns, imagining their smiling faces, turned into ash as your hypothetical passing. “Barbara.” 

“Bruce,” you croak, pleading inwardly for him to stop. 

“Damian.” 

“Tim.”

“Jason.” 

“Dick. Alfred.” You duck your head and your eyes meet the ground. The listing of all your loved ones pinches your heart, and you feel nauseous. You weren’t trying to leave them. You didn’t want to leave them at all. 

“... Me.” 

Your eyes sting with tears again. Why did he have to make it sound like that? Like you were seeking some selfish want, rather than trying to improve your quality of life. You feel your ambition and desire wane under the weight of guilt. You feel all sense of struggle start to disintegrate, lost to the fog in your head. Lost. You’ve lost.

Bruce’s eyes scrutinize you.

“As I suspected. You’re acting delirious. Manic. Delusional.”

Any semblance of protest dies in your throat. 

“What?” you say. But Bruce is already leading you away towards the looming doors of Wayne Manor, away from the green of the grounds. Away from the light of the sun, and away from the skyline. He comforts you with familiar lines on the way to your bedroom. 

You need rest. Alfred will brew his tea for you. I’ll call the kids to come tonight. We can play Risk. He pats your shoulder, stroking soft, deceptively warm circles with his thumb.

“You just need some rest.” 

And not for the first time, you believe he may be right.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #tw gaslighting #bruce wayne #mine

[skelliko]

Hi Skelle! ☆ How r you? I hope you have a nice day/night! 🫶🏼 I want to request something.. my request is can you make like a full (not a mandatory) headcanons of how the guys will act if they have a crush on someone? Like how they behaviour will change, how they first meet the reader immediately think “yep, she’s the one”, where, and overall how sappy they can get when they have a crush 🥹 i would like them with baji, kazutora, chifuyu and haitani brothers.

Feel free to ignore this if you feel this is too much cause I don’t wanna stress your cute 🧠💐🎀🩷 brain 🧠💐🎀🩷

Lmao

a/n: hope this is okay, sorry for the wait. i didn't intend to make these all be in a school setting, I had tried to do some in a workplace but It's all I could think off without making it basic 😕

★-Tokyo revengers

๑-context: first interaction + how they act/feel with a crush

๑-featuring: Baji, kazutora, chifuyu, ran, rindou

°- kazutora hanemiya

-- kazutora was forced to stay behind the classroom to finish his work that he hasn't done, the teacher was sat in front of her desk doing whatever a teacher does there while everyone else but him exit out the room. however when you were on your way out you slickly slid a small, folded up piece of paper on the side of kazutora's desk which certainly didn't go unnoticed by him.

-- his eyes went right at you and watched as you walked away almost expecting you to look back at him but you didn't. to then occasionally glance at the teacher to make sure that she doesn't look up as his hand slides towards the note to carefully and quietly open it up. anything could have been written on the note but since he was so focused to not get caught his mind was blank and didn't assume anything right away.

-- the piece of paper held all the answers to the worksheet that he was supposed to complete. to avoid any suspicions from the teacher he immediately placed it flat on the desk underneath his palm to collect himself and not get too ahead of himself, I mean what if the answers are incorrect and your setting him up for longer detention? eventually he risked it and wrote down all the answers that you had given him and handed in his work. and sure enough you become a life saver there, he was able to get out of there quicker than he first anticipated.

-- eventually he came up to you "hey, thanks for the... you know. but why'd you give me 3 incorrect answers? thought you were supposed to be smart" he said it in a almost teasing way, not upset at all about the incorrect answers. but you replied with "because no one would believe you to get them all correct without being forced to do them again" and that right there is the moment that he realised what kind of smart and mischievous person you are, enough that you've captivated his thoughts for the rest of the day and onwards.

• normally he'd get pissed off when forced to stay behind in class, but now, his mind is flooded with you that he's getting stayed back more and more just so that your hand can brush over his desk and give a semi warm piece of paper that you've held safely in your palm on the way to his desk to get him out of a situation that he put himself in, it almost feels like holding your hand. are you aware of what he's doing? probably, but that won't stop him. he also keeps all the pieces of paper even tho they serve no purpose, but knowing that you were the one that gave it to him changes the perspective of those little scraps.

• he has a major urge to be around you, he's craving your presence and voice and he always feels some sort of ache is in body from just thinking about seeing you once the weekend has passed. also the same thing goes for craving your physical touch such as a tight hug or maybe even a scalp massage but he knows that won't happen any time soon but the crave is still there, it's like a maladaptive daydream.

• he also looks at you different compared to others, with you it seems like kazu is looking at an angle with gorgeous white wings and a stunning outfit, whereas with others it seems like their just ants. big difference there.

-- sure you've been in his class for a while but that was the first time you've actually interacted with each other, other than a quick eye contact from looking around the room. there's always that one classmate that you haven't talked to but once you do it changes so much more than you first intended.

• he feels his emotions to a certain extreme level and cause of this he tries to hide it as much as he can otherwise he grows too expressive without realising it. and that can easily make his feelings seem obvious if not tamed correctly. he tries to act casual despite his stomach is turned into a butterfly sanctuary, his palms are grown sweaty, and his breath is held in to get rid of the feeling of jumping about and smiling like a complete idiot. mentally hes turned into a little kid with red cheeks just because his crush smiled at him, someone give the kid an ice pop otherwise he'll overheat. no seriously he's burning up like a fever just being near you.

°- Keisuke baji

-- Baji was getting into some sort of escalating argument after school had ended, him and two guys were getting a little rowdy but because of Baji being in his nerdy disguise at the time he couldn't risk in making a scene

-- but then that's when you butt in and stand by Baji's side. it was certainly a shock to suddenly see you appear beside him and hear you verbalise your opinion and defend him like that against these two delinquents even though he could have easily defended himself despite the circumstances, he could have walked away and led them somewhere else but no, you brought yourself into the bickering before he could act on it

-- Baji was gonna speak up to cut you off and try and get you away from the slight hazardous situation but you certainly had a lot to say and that just caused him to keep quiet. were you not scared? if you weren't for yourself then he was surely scared for you. he wasn't mad at you for getting involved, instead he somewhat gained respect for you and he had to hold back in smiling.

-- though he obviously couldn't let the situation keep going so he had to quickly drop the whole argument by speaking over you and basically drag you away by your sleeve gently. his feelings didn't grow immediately right there and then but they did develop quickly over a short period of time.

• thinking of you? his cheeks are sore and he brings a hand up to his mouth to suppress it and as if to hide it even though there's no one around to hide his smile from. he doesn't know why he does that but he just does.

• if someone were to be told that baji giggles when you message him they wouldn't believe it, that whole image for them is nonexistent when it comes to Baji, wouldn't even consider it. but this man really does, he tries to stifle them and keep a calm exposure however when he's laying down on his bed he has a wide smile plastered stupidly on his face and when he feels an excited, giddy feeling he can't help but feel a small laugh escape. when he tries to hold them back it almost feels like his chest is being tightened. your suffocation him without even being there, imagine a potential news title 'baji Keisuke suffocated due to feeling giddy about a crush'

• not much of an artist, can only actually draw simple outlines of certain objects such as pain flowers or stick men, but that doesn't stop him from picking up a pen or pencil and start to doodle, nor does it stop him to have your features flash in his mind and him draw you as a stick figure or even a wobbly blob. he sometimes zones out in class when doodling and when he catches himself in drawing you he quickly scribbles it out before anyone or you sees.

°- chifuyu matsuno

-- its raining outside on a school day and you don't have an umbrella nor a hood to cover yourself so due to that you chose to stay behind in your empty classroom to wait out the rain just so you don't get soaked. you chose to stay behind and do something captivating that it even caused you to lose track of time, luckily Chifuyu walked past your classroom and saw you there, it's at least a few hours past school hours (don't ask what he's still doing here)

-- he curiously came up to you and mentioned it however even after those few hours the rain hadn't left and it was still pouring the same weight as it had at the start, and due to the sudden passed time you had no choice to head home even if it means getting drenched. but upon chifuyu hearing your reasoning, there was no way he was gonna leave you walking out in the cold rain while he had a perfectly good umbrella, even if he wanted to leave he just couldn't bring himself to.

-- so he did the first thing that came to mind and that was to try and offer his umbrella to you. at first it seemed convenient for you but then the thought of him going out in the rain with nothing bothered you, so obviously you declined. bit of "no it's fine" here and there but after some of those you both came to an agreement to share it.

-- halfway through with you both walking underneath the same umbrella and chatting away to avoid the awkward silence he walked you home without you realising, he had to turn a corner ages ago but willingly chose to stay with you since you both were having an interesting conversation. and sure enough, thump-thump-thump his heart is racing, ever since then you've been on his mind.

• he feels so much about you, butterflies in his stomach and the need to move around because if hes sat still he'd probably snap in half from the excitement that he can't handle when the thought of you appears. he can explode from the overjoy of interacting with you as if it's a rare thing to happen even though it really isn't, you're just that special. he definitely jumps around and about in his room and punches the air silently whilst trying not to cause too much noise. making a whole new cardio work out.

• whenever he's reading his manga and romance comes in he can't help but picture the two characters to be you and chifuyu. he flicks his eyes between the two characters repeatedly even if he's been on the same page for 5mins, he'd still play out the scenario of them being you two. I mean that whole first encounter almost seemed too cliché to not have come straight out of a movie with unrealistic standards. but no, it all really did happened which causes his mind to go in places that you two are almost casted together and made to talk, as if the universe is setting you both up.

• passing your classroom at any chance he gets just to try and get a glimpse at you but while doing so his heart paces like hes just ran a marathon, he hasn't even seen you yet but the anticipation is killing him. and even when it rains on school days again hes not heading straight home but instead he's making his way to your class to see if you're there again waiting for the rain to leave, always hopeful and wishing that you're empty handed without an umbrella or a hood.

°- ran haitani

-- your in an empty room scribbling something in a sketchbook, using both hard and light pencil strokes. doesn't bother ran at all that you're here doing your own little thing but what actually does is that you're sat in his usual seat. normally he wouldn't try to intervene, especially if it's something this petty plus he wasn't all that desperate to stay here for long but even then, he still walked up to you.

-- first instinct that you had when hearing his footsteps was to close your sketchbook shut before looking up, clearly you don't want no one seeing your personal work/drawings. this little thing perked ran's interest, he doesn't know much about art in the form of paper and pencil, but he's still intrigued as to why you chose to hide it that it made him forget about his petty emotion of you sitting in his seat.

-- in short term, he ended up seeing a few of your pages and the reason for it is cause you despise your own work, despite continuing drawing in your own time you seem to always criticise yourself and think harshly on them. but in his eyes he can't help but be in awe of them, he cant understand what's so bad about the drawings. next thing you know he's asking for a drawing of himself, you didn't seem too bothered by the idea as you were about your skill wondering if you could even pull it off but ran managed to convince you.

-- sitting in a chair in front of you as a muse, meeting eye contact as you looked at his features repeatedly to get the right shape of his eyes, nose and lips. him purposely moving a little to see if you'd say something about it and trying to peek over your sketchbook book to see your progress only for you to move it away out of embarrassment. it took a short while but finally seeing himself on a page in dark grey lead made him feel something, not necessarily a major attraction but appreciation even tho he's the one that pressed on the idea.

-- and that's when the butterflies hit, it's a major delayed reaction but the giddy feeling hit after being the muse and grasping the fact that you were able to draw him this well from you analysing his features, something about this made him more seen than he already is. maybe a confidence boost? who knows, even he himself can't figure it out exactly other than feeling warm from the inside out about you.

• no matter how hard he tries to relax around you he always feels blood rushing in his body making him become tense whenever you two have an interaction as small as just saying hi to each other, and once you both pass he sighs out air as if you've caught his breath and didn't let go, though he also ends up smiling after that sigh but it's more or less a mix of a nervous and happy smile, one that makes you to be unsure if you're supposed to be excited or scared.

• i reckon hes a yapper once he gets comfortable enough, anything that comes to mind he can talk and talk about it with you like his life depends on it, but once he's finished speaking he only then realises the things he's said and regrets it all even if the topics he's talked about aren't all that bad but he still gets embarrassed of himself for letting himself get carried away like that to the point where afterwards he speaks in a much shallower tone "...I don't know why I said that, ignore that" it's kinda cute tho.

• you got him twisting and turning, losing focus in certain activities and even his sight of where he's going. at some point he was walking but his eye view was so focused on you that he ended up walking into the metal, water foundation and he had to embarrassingly play it off hoping that no one had seen the doofus walk right into it as his head was turned 80° in your direction.

°- rindou haitani

-- you and him happen to share the same taste in music and favour the same band/Artist, he knew this by overhearing a conversation you had with someone and that made him perk up a little but not enough for him to engage in the conversation. he'd silently listen in to hear what your favourite song is and guess if your a hardcore fan or just a regular

-- despite rindou not being the one to come forward about the mutual interest that you both have, it was you that needed up going up to him after hearing his music escape though his earphones from how loud he set the volume to be. sure he was a little embarrassed after you mentioned it but once you both started talking about the band, something had opened him up as you talked about it with enthusiasm while he was agreeing with everything that you were saying and adding his own little comments, you were both constantly on the same page.

-- hes gained a small interest in you but not enough to catch feelings and be attached, there's plenty of people with the same interest as him and even though he can't find many it doesn't mean that you should be on top of the list. yet.

-- those previous, tamed feelings were immediately thrown out the window after hearing you sing his favourite song when you thought you were alone, he didn't mean to intrude but when he quietly walked in a room to get something he ended up hearing your voice singing along to a favoured song, you immediately became his favourite cover. your tune and enthusiasm had him captivated and stuck. he didn't get the item but instead but he stood outside of the door listening until you stopped.

• when you suddenly appear and make yourself known he gets a little spooked and drops whatever he was holding in his hands (mainly depends on what the item is, as in if it's not fragile and just a pen) its the type of scare that makes his mind go 'oh shit they're here, act cool, act cool' you can just walk into the room and when Rindou looks up to see you its like his whole body does a nervous shut down for a split second. he's normally not like that at all so when that became a common occurrence he swore he was starting to become insane.

• only you're allowed to touch his glasses or gloves or in fact anything that belongs to rindou. sure his brother is an exception but that's to be expected. if anyone else tried to touch his stuff he'd more than just swat their hand away like an annoying pest, but with you? he feels warm and giddy about you picking his glasses up and trying them on yourself, heat rushes up to his face but he always tries to act cool and casual. he just can't shake the thought that you've worn his glasses that he's wearing right now, it almost feels like getting a high five from your favourite celebrity.

• anyone would probably assume Rindou to be a little heartless from him occasionally being nonchalant around others and sure that's true enough but with you? he's flustered, cannot specify enough of it, poor man can't even go a day without his lungs constantly shifting in volume from the way you get him so nervous. he's even grown to stutter a little, not a whole lot but enough for it to be noticed once in a while and each time he looks back on the sentences he's said he always cringes at himself.

 ♡----

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #kazutora headcanons #baji headcanons #chifuyu headcanons #rindou headcanons #ran headcanons #kazutora hanemiya #baji Keisuke #matsuno chifuyu #ran Haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #baji keisuke x reader #rindou haitani x reader #ran haitani x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #kazutora hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #baji x reader #chifuyu x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader