A sideblog dedicated to my writing. I write romantic fiction for different fandoms.
My writing can also be found on Lunaescence, AO3 and GOTVG (username: coffeerepublic).
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When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
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Word Count: 2693
Without you asking him to, Katsuki had made room in his life for you. You were not sure whether he had done so intentionally or whether he had even noticed himself doing so – but it was undebatable that you were now a constant in the formula of his everyday life.
From your toiletries in the bathroom to the ever-respawning bottle of your favorite soda in the refrigerator, you had, for all intents and purposes, become the fourth teammate in the guys’ three-men living arrangement.
Today was not the first time you had taken part in mundane activities such as buying groceries, but for the first time, it was only Eijirou and you who were doing so together. And, going against all odds and all of your worries, it was not awkward at all.
“So, we got coffee, milk, bread and bottled water. We still need detergent and hand soap,” you recited, reading off the shopping list you had prepared on your phone.
“Hand soap? We never have hand soap,” Eijirou answered with surprising certainty, turning the shopping cart and heading down the aisle towards household necessities, you following closely behind him.
“Yeah, and I worry about what that says about your relationship with hygiene.” Their apartment was fairly clean, especially in the light of their being three male (barely-still-)teenagers, but you (rightly) attributed that to Katsuki’s neatness more than anything.
“Alright, alright, we are getting hand soap, new queen of the apartment.” His laugh was contagious.
“You don’t actually mind my being around so much, do you?” You were laughing along with him. Still, for a moment there, you were scared he was going to give you an answer you would not like.
“Not at all! You’re friendly, you clean up more of a mess than you make, and Bakugou’s less grumpy when you’re there. If anyone moves out, I vote it’s him.”
You scoffed. “You don’t actually mean that.”
He grinned his brightest of grins. “I really don’t. He’s kind of my best friend.”
Taking two pink bottles of detergent from the shelves and putting them inside the cart, you added onto your statement. “Besides, once he’s gone, I’m gone.”
“Right,” he said without missing a beat. “I forgot you’re a package deal. It’s still kinda hard to believe Bakugou has a girlfriend.”
The reply you had become used to giving to insinuations such as this one came without the need for you to exceed much thought. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
The noise Eijirou gave instead of saying anything in response said more than enough: Sure, if that’s what you want to believe.
“…and this concludes the perspective I wanted to share with you on the topic of secondary characteristics of less common quirks. Thank you for your attention. If you have any remaining questions, now’s the time to ask.”
While it may have sounded rather professional, that was only the case because you had repeated those sentences to yourself again and again last night until you had known them by heart. It was your first time speaking in front of an audience in years. Before you had been forced to press pause on your university career, you had somehow managed to avoid all seminars that required presentations as part of their grading system. Now, you had intentionally fit several of them into your semester schedule as a challenge to yourself. The first one was done with.
You could feel your heart beating in your tongue and you had stumbled over your words a few times. Your hands were clammy and shaking. But, and this was the most important notion to take away from today – you had survived.
The auditorium was too large for the two dozen people sitting in it. Their lack of further questions was almost certainly not due to your presentational skills but rather due to the general loss of enthusiasm students tended to experience at some point between their first and sixth semester.
After receiving some mostly favorable feedback from your professor, you left the building and headed off campus. You could not wait to tell your not-boyfriend about what you had achieved today.
Speaking of secondary characteristics of uncommon quirks – you had realized early on that Katsuki’s skin was flawless. For a while, you had chalked it up to simple great luck or a kind puberty. It was only after you had participated in several sessions of your aforementioned seminar about uncommon quirks that you had begun to entertain the possibility that those two phenomena might be related.
“So, not only do you get an awesome quirk, but it actually clears up your skin at the same time? That’s so unfair!” you complained from where you were sitting next to him on his bed.
“That’s just how glycerin works, woman.” His smirk let you know that although it was pure luck that he had been able to draw from such a good gene pool, he was at least a little proud of it.
“Still, it’s so not fair. Ten years from now, I’ll probably look twenty years older than I do now, and you’ll still be a walking skincare ad.”
“If that bothers you already, you’ll fucking love my mom. She’s almost fifty and looks like she never fucking turned thirty.”
You could have sworn that your heart stopped for about three and a half seconds right there. It was clear to you he had meant nothing by it. So, you decided to smooth it over by saying something by which you meant nothing at all, either.
“What reason would I have to meet my not-boyfriend’s mother? To congratulate her on her clear skin?”
“You could congratulate her on creating me, a.k.a. the greatest fucking thing that’s ever happened to you.” Considering how arrogant he could be and how dry he kept his voice when saying things like these, it could be difficult to mistake his specific brand of humor for serious statements. You, however, knew better.
Still, for a moment, you were inclined to grab a pillow from his bed and hit him over the head with it. Instead, you let yourself fall backwards so you were lying on the mattress. “Well, I guess you do have a handful of good qualities if I’m squinting. Five, maybe, if I were to count.”
He raised an eyebrow at you. You responded – very maturely – by sticking out your tongue at him. He accepted the unspoken challenge. Less than a moment later, he had you pinned underneath his body, straddling your thighs and holding your wrists above your head with both hands.
“Is fucking you until you can’t walk straight on the list?”
You arched your back, trying to push your breasts against his chest and whining when his grasp on you proved too tight for you to do so. “It’s at the very top,” you promised into his mouth, and then he was kissing you.
You had not had any alcohol since that fateful night at the club.
Letting down your guard around strangers made you feel threatened, so Katsuki and you had gone clubbing less and less, as well. Perhaps it was for the best – you were an adult after all, so maybe you could afford to have a lifestyle befitting one.
You also could not bring yourself to wear the clothes from that night again. So you packed them into a carton, along with some books that reminded you of the people that had gifted them to you and that were no longer part of your life. Then, you donated that box to the charity shop down the road from your home.
It was a shame that Katsuki’s room provided no other seating option for two besides his bed. Or maybe it actually was not that much of a shame, since it was your preferred place to be anyways. He had spent good money on the mattress, and your back agreed with you on the decision to spend as little time as possible at your own apartment. Said apartment was becoming more of a storage space than anything at this point.
What did the two of you even do together with all of those joint hours?
All kinds of things, really. A lot of it was sex, or lead-up to sex, or post-coital coexistence. Any time left over after subtracting those pastimes was just the both of you doing your own thing while coincidentally in the same room. You enjoyed it. You liked occupying the same space as him. You appreciated breathing the same air as him.
In all truth, you could probably spend the rest of your life lying next to him like this and simply looking at him.
He had not got dressed yet, but it was not like he had ever minded being nude. Reading the news on his phone, he was not looking in your direction, allowing you to watch him. You were plenty sure he still knew that you were watching him, however. He was more attentive than he would ever admit out loud, and somehow, he tended to simply know things.
Sometimes, you wondered what he saw in you. It was clear to you why you stuck with him. He was gorgeous, from his spiky blond hair to those red eyes you wanted to drown in, from the scar below his collarbone to his long, muscular legs. But beyond his picturesque body, beyond even the sex that was genuinely the best you had ever had, there was the fact that things were easy with him.
When you had told him about your disorder, you had expected it to be the end of your story. But it had not been. Instead, without wasting a lot of pretty words, he had simply accepted it as fact and moved on. It was what he did for everything you did and shared with him. When you had mentioned that you were going back to university, his response had been, “About time.”
(If he were anyone but himself, it would not have come across even nearly as supportive.)
When you had told him about how well your presentation had gone, he had asked, “What else had you expected?”
(And if he were anyone but himself, it would not have sounded nearly as proud.)
But he must have seen something in you, else he would not have kept you around for this long. You did not know what it was, but you were grateful for it nonetheless.
At this point, it was becoming hard to imagine a life without him.
It had always been hard for you to tell the difference between obsession and love. It was even more so now that Katsuki had made himself at home in the greater scheme of your life. But maybe you had been wrong to assume that you could only ever either be obsessed or in love. Maybe you had been so scared of anything that could at all be interpreted as something akin to a symptom of mania that you had never let yourself consider that one did not work without at least a tiny bit of the other.
After all, what was love if not a mild form of insanity?
The fancy-looking cream envelope had been sitting on Katsuki’s desk for weeks now. You had first noticed it when you had sat down there to work on your presentation. It had been in the way, and you had put it to the side without giving it much thought.
The next day, it had been right back in its former place, as if it had never been moved. Still, you gave it little to no thought.
A few days later, you were packing your bag, getting ready to go back to your own place for the first time in a week. (The mail did not check itself.) You set it on the desk chair while you were folding your worn clothes. (Perhaps, a load of laundry would also prove commendable.)
In doing so, you accidentally knocked over the folded card that was sitting upright on the desk, the surrounding envelope now gone. You set it back up, automatically reading the beginning of the first sentence. ‘You are cordially invited to…’
Then you stopped, a little annoyed that you had read anything at all. It was not your invitation, and thus none of your business. You made sure it looked untouched, finished packing and left.
A little while later, you found yourself in a hurry to arrive at university on time. The mornings were becoming colder, and, as these things with indirect proportionality tend to work, Katsuki’s bed was becoming harder to leave with each passing day. While you ran into the stairway with your hair yet unbrushed, your note pad lay on the desk, forgotten about.
It was a long day, which made your lack of note paper all the more jarring. When you came back to Katsuki’s that evening, your note pad was waiting for you. With the fancy invitation somehow having found its way on top of it. It became clear that these were not coincidences at all.
‘You are cordially invited to the 27th annual Heroes’ Gala to celebrate the strides our society has made since the advent of quirks and heroism. We will be accepting donations, all of which are to go into the Official Hero Registry’s fund to compensate and support civilians who have been hurt or who have experienced damage at the hands of villains. Please let us know whether you will be in attendance, and whether you will have someone joining you.’
Beneath the text, there was further information on the date, place and exact time.
You had not even taken your coat off yet, and you did not. Instead, you turned on your heel, walking towards the kitchen with the omnipresent invitation still in your hand.
Inside the kitchen, there was Katsuki in front of the stove, finishing dinner. (He liked to cook. You enjoyed your position as a beneficiary.) He did not even jump a little when you poked his lower back with the card – it seemed he had become so used to your presence that hardly anything surprised him anymore.
Without further greeting, you launched straight into the topic at hand. “So, where am I gonna find this next? Inside the closet, conveniently stored between my underwear?” You were trying hard not to sound as amused as you were. He was so bad at these things, and you loved him for it. It was getting harder not to think that word, love.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” was his reply, was his lie, because he could see the piece of paper in your hand and because he obviously knew what you were talking about.
“I’m talking about this charity gala thing. What is it?”
“It’s stupid, is what it is.” He was refusing to look at you, instead stirring the vegetables inside the pan with a lot more gusto than necessary. “It’s this shitty important hero bullshit. It’s dumb as hell.”
“And also, you really want to go there,” you added, voicing out loud what he was incapable of saying.
A lack of reply was also a reply.
After a moment of silence, you continued. “You know, I’m just gonna put this out there. If you want me to go with you, you might just have to actually ask me.”
As the seconds passed, the distance between you did not change, but your perception of it did. Eventually, you were unable to take both the silence and the distance, so you had to get rid of at least one of them. You stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his slim waist and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He smelled like frying oil and sweat and all-around perfect. The heat from the stove reminded you that you were still wearing your coat. It did not matter.
What mattered was that after a much-too-long silence for a simple question such as this one, he asked, “Would you?”
You had had your fair share of hesitation for one night. For one lifetime. “I would.”
You were planning to spend your birthday alone. Instead, Izuku invites you to meet his mother for the first time.
Over the past few years, you had found yourself liking your own birthday less and less.
The reason for that was not only that you were by now at an age where you would have preferred to grow younger rather than older. Aside from that problematic, it had also been a while – a few years, truthfully – since you had been able to celebrate your birthday with your family, the way you would have liked to. As such, you were not all that excited.
Your boyfriend, on the other hand, was very excited to celebrate your birthday with you for the first time.
“There’s only three days left until your birthday! Have you decided what you want to do yet?” Izuku asked, smiling at you as brightly and kindly as a person could smile.
“I’m not sure I want to do anything. I think I’ll just stay home and do nothing for a day,” was the well-thought-out plan you shared with him.
It was obvious from the look in his eyes that that would not do. There was no way in hell he was going to let you spend the whole day feeling sorry for yourself instead of celebrating. And he had made sure to bring along a suggestion that would surprise you into foregoing your intended day of sloth.
“My mom offered to make a cake for us,” he announced, scratching the back of his neck before correcting himself. “Well, for you. And I asked her to. Would you like to come over to my mom’s place with me on your birthday? We can spend the day doing nothing while we’re there, if you’d like to.”
A warmth swelled along your cheeks and inside your ribcage at his invitation. He did know you well enough to know that you did not actually want to spend your birthday on your own. You simply had trouble asking for things you wanted. It was something you were working on, but as of now, you still required others to extend invitations to you in order to feel wanted.
“I’d love that.” You were not lying.
When you arrived at Izuku’s childhood home, your heart was beating in your throat. He had promised that his mother was going to love you, but that had done little to alleviate your stress. What were you going to do if she didn’t like you? What if she thought you were not good enough for her son? You wondered whether she knew that she had raised the most perfect man alive.
But you need not have worried at all, you found. The door opened before the two of you, and before you could even finish saying, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Midoriya,” you were enveloped in a warm hug from a small mother with a very mother-like scent about her.
“Call me Inko! I’m so happy you’re finally here! Happy birthday!”
You no longer had to wonder where Izuku got his sweetness from.
In the midst of a lot of ‘Thank you’s and ‘He’s told me so much about you’s (cue a blush on your boyfriend’s face) and ‘I hope you like chocolate’s, you were shushed inside and towards the kitchen table. The apartment was not large by any means, but it was well-furnished and gave the immediate impression of being a home more than anything.
Homemade triple chocolate cake. Things did not get much better than this.
Or, they did. Because it turned out to be one of the nicest days you had had in a long time.
While Inko was telling you how you were the first girlfriend Izuku had ever brought home, you caught the slight redness on his cheeks as he was laughing along with her. You had not realized that he had never taken anyone else to meet his mother, and you felt honored by this special status. You wished you were able to freeze-frame this situation for eternity: the moment you were sitting here, watching your boyfriend who was smiling and blushing and not bothered at all by the slight embarrassment his mother was raining on him. She was telling stories about what he had been like as a child and as a teenager, and you could not get enough of it, smiling and listening while eating your third piece of cake of the afternoon.
It was so simple, and so simply the best birthday you had ever had.
If you had not already felt welcome in this house, in this family, in this life at this point, you surely would have as soon as Inko brought up the offer for you two to stay overnight.
It had become late, and thus, you inevitably realized that she had coincidentally prepared enough dinner for three. After this coincidence was dealt with (in the form of a family dinner), Izuku went to prepare his old bedroom for the night while you and Inko did the dishes together.
Conversation came easy with her. It was obvious how much she loved her son, and perhaps it was this common ground that had made her so willing to welcome you. Never had a boyfriend’s mother made it so simple for you to find a way in.
You had been wondering how much Izuku had told her about the less stellar aspects of your life. The answer came when, after a short lapse in talking, Inko brought up a topic she obviously did not quite know how to approach.
“So, [Name]…” She paused, handing you another clean plate to dry. “Izuku told me about your family situation. I hope you’re not upset with him for it.”
“No, it’s okay.” It was okay. Just because it was not a pretty story did not mean you were ashamed of it, and you knew Izuku only ever had your best interests at heart. He did not have an ill bone in his body.
“I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone, you know, like, a mother to talk to… you can come to me.”
The tone in her voice was so kind and honest it was difficult to take. You swallowed, unsure whether it would be okay for you to hug her again to let her know how much her words meant to you. Instead, you simply ended up standing there and continuing to dry a long since dry plate.
“Thank you,” you eventually managed to get out. “Just… thank you. For everything. For saying that, and for the cake, and for being so amazing. I’m so glad I came here. It’s been the greatest day.”
The answer you got to that was another genuine smile from her. You were grateful for all of the things you had mentioned, and you were also grateful to know that Izuku had grown up with a good, loving mother. Truth be told, it was that knowledge that made you happiest of all.
When you retreated to Izuku’s childhood bedroom later in the evening, it was simultaneously exactly what you had expected and also not what you had been expecting at all. There was so much All Might paraphernalia. So. Much. The small room’s wallpaper was basically made up of posters.
It was so sweet, you thought, that Inko had kept his room untouched even after he had moved out, rather than to convert it into something else to better utilize the limited space in her small apartment.
“So, you’ve always been a fanboy, huh?” Already, you had stepped in front of a bookcase and begun to run your finger along the spines of the comic books there.
“It’s kind of embarrassing…” He trailed off. “But, yes. I only took the stuff I cherished the most when I moved out, though.”
You took the few steps you needed to get back to him and slung an arm around his waist, leaning into his side. Almost automatically, his arm, too, snaked around your body, holding you to him as if that were the most natural position for your two bodies to be in. (Because it was.)
“I love it.” It was true. You loved how unapologetically excited he could be about things, how pure his passion was when he was into something. You would know – after all, you were one of the things he was into these days.
You spotted something on his desk – an exercise book with a handwritten title on it.
“What’s that?” you wondered out loud, pointing to the object in question.
“Oh, that’s one of the notebooks about heroes I wrote.”
“Don’t you still write them, though?” You could have sworn you had seen him doodling into a similar notebook not that long ago.
“I do! That was the first one, though. It’s ninety percent All Might, to tell the truth.” He laughed, and you laughed along with him.
“Which issue are you on now?”
He hesitated for a moment. You were not sure whether he actually had to think about it or whether the number was simply so high he did not feel comfortable admitting it.
“…number thirty-four,” he eventually confessed in a small, yet amused voice.
So, without further ado, you sat down on his old bed together and started flipping through the pages. He pointed out his favorites, at times criticizing details from his old drawings. You personally thought that they were amazing, especially considering how young he had been when he had made them. Once you were done with one book, you moved onto the next, eventually arriving at number eight. The clock on the wall promised that hours had passed, although it had not felt like it at all.
Thus, the topic of sleeping arrangements became relevant.
Of course there was only a tiny single-person bed. You did not know what else you had been expecting. Izuku had put up a futon on the floor next to it to make room for two sleepers.
“So, you’re planning on making me sleep on the floor, I see?” you joked, knowing perfectly well that he had no such intention.
“No, I’m sleeping on the floor. You can have my bed.”
You, on the other hand, had no such intention, as he would soon find out.
Having prepared to go to bed first, you were already lying down in the bed while he was still in the bathroom. All Might was staring down at you from the ceiling. You nodded at him in a silent acknowledgment. He did not greet you back because he was a poster.
Then, when Izuku came back, planning to get cozy on the futon like the gentleman he was, you prevented him from doing so by reaching for his hand and entwining your fingers with his.
“Come to bed,” you requested.
“But it’s tiny,” he countered, saying nothing more. You knew you had won the second you had asked him.
“That just means we’ll have to cuddle up closer.” Your preferred sleeping position was half on top of him, and it was not a secret.
He did sit down on the edge of the bed, his body already touching one of your legs through the blanket. Of course you were going to get your way.
“But you can’t complain if you end up pushed against the wall.” Success. His barely-existent resolve to sleep on the floor had crumbled like the sham it had been.
“If I feel trapped, I’ll just push you out of bed.” As if.
For now, he lay down next to you. It was a tight fit, as Izuku very definitely did not have the beanstalk body of a teenager anymore. But you were lying halfway on his chest, head resting comfortably in that place between his clavicle and chest that was your favorite. One of your legs was hooked between both of his, and in this position, the mattress just so fit you both, and the blanket just so covered you. (Except, perhaps, for an inch or two of your back. It allowed for a draft of cold air that made for the perfect excuse to crawl into him even further, absorbing his physical warmth as if it were all you needed to survive.)
The lights were off now, and it was silent for a while. From his breathing, you knew that Izuku was still awake, which meant that he would hear you once you spoke.
“Thank you,” you whispered into his collarbone. “This was the perfect birthday.”
And it had been. Peace, and quiet, and a mother and son that wanted you to be a part of their family. It was all you could have wished for and more.
“You’re welcome,” he replied softly, but you were not done speaking.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have you. I catch myself all the time, thinking how perfect you are and how I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend. Just… I love you. I love you so much.”
You did not know what you had done to deserve to be here, to be now, to be with him. But you were, and he, too, was here, and now, and with you. Somewhere along the way, you must have done something right.
Eijirou enjoys spoiling you with his attention. You enjoy being spoiled. (Also, there is snow.)
You were addicted to him. Addicted to the feeling of his lips urgently moving against your own. To the feeling of the tip of his tongue teasing yours and making you sigh into his mouth in adoration. Kissing him had quickly become your favorite thing in the world.
And despite the fact that the two of you had been spending a large part of the past week doing just this, the novelty never wore off. You would have thought that there were only so many different ways of pressing lips together, but somehow, each kiss managed to feel new and – and you swore you were not exaggerating – perfect.
Eijirou pulled your bottom lip between both of his, sucking on it softly for a moment before abandoning your mouth entirely. Instead, he opted to leave a kiss on the side of your chin, then another, then another, moving along your jaw and leaving no fraction of your skin unkissed.
You gave another sigh that became his name somewhere halfway through. He knew how weak his attention made you, turning you into a mess of a girl under his fingertips.
Tipping your head back further, you offered your neck to him. He accepted your offering greedily, kissing the skin underneath your ear, the underside of your jaw, the bump of your larynx, kissing you senseless. When he got bored of that, he opened his mouth, licking along your most sensitive spots instead. His tongue was warm and wet, at times caressing you softly, at times pressing into you insistently, writing sweet nothings into your skin in an imaginary script.
You moaned. “If you keep this up, I’m going to melt into a puddle, and then you won’t have a girlfriend anymore,” you promised, voice breathy and mind clouded by pleasure.
He left this uncommented, though you could feel the smile pulling at his mouth’s edges. One of his hands came up to intertwine with your own before pushing it into the mattress, holding your arm pinned next to your head. Then, his teeth became part of the equation.
The sharp points dragged along your skin and you were unable to keep your eyes open in the face of how amazing it felt. He was mindful not to break the skin, always taking care of you, always making sure you knew what you meant to him. He was as addicted to you as you were to him.
You yearned for him with your whole body. It was stupendous how, without even having moved lower than your neck, he already had you strung-up like a bow, ready to snap.
Encouraged by your verbal and non-verbal approval, he lifted his free hand, all of his weight now resting on the arm that kept you pinned to the bed. His hand was large and calloused from training, but gentle and almost reluctant as he placed it on your breast for the first time.
Your eyes had still been closed, but you now opened them, wanting to look him in the eye and see the expression on his face as he touched you. As you did, your gaze first got caught on something else, however. You gasped.
His hand shot back from your chest as if he had been burned. He let go of your other arm, too, lifting his head from the crook of your neck and immediately beginning to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to pressure you, I promise! I’m gonna ask next time –“
You reached for him and kept him from getting off of you. “No, Ei, look outside!”
When you had opened your eyes, you had caught sight of big, fluffy, white snowflakes blowing around outside the window. It was the first snow of the year.
“It’s snowing!” he echoed your thoughts, the look of worry that had blemished his perfect face for a moment there replaced by a joy mirroring yours.
“It’s so beautiful,” you added, pulling him back down onto you. He rested his head on you, at the very top of your chest, face still turned towards the window to watch the snow falling. You were watching it, too, his weight on top of your body offering comfort.
For a while, that was all you two did. It was enough.
“By the way,” you broke the silence eventually. “I love how careful and considerate you’re being with me. You’re not pressuring me into anything.” You lifted one hand to run it through his hair. You loved that you got to see him like this. The cool, red strands fell through your fingers like a liquid. You ran your fingernails along his scalp, knowing exactly how much he enjoyed that. In response, he purred into your clavicle. You continued. “I want you to touch me, as long as you want to touch me. And I want to touch you, too, as long as you want me to touch you.”
His hand that had been lying on the mattress next to your body found its way to your side then. He rested his fingers along the side of your ribcage. Only his thumb kept moving, softly petting your breast through your shirt and bra. Even from the little stimulation, you could feel your nipple pebbling. So could he. It was what encouraged him to go ahead, palming you properly, squeezing and massaging and marveling at the softness of you. A growing hardness against your thigh left little necessity for you to wonder whether he was enjoying this.
“Now I never want to stop touching you,” he confessed, looking up at you. His eyes told you of the amazement he felt at being allowed to do this. He did not realize that you were the privileged one between the pair of you, simply for having someone as amazing as him want you at all.
When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
-
Word Count: 4524
When consciousness slowly returned you to this plane of reality, you were unsure whether you had been asleep or unconscious. While you could not remember dreaming, you had a distinct feeling of time having passed, which spoke for the former. Opening your eyes was a chore, but you could already feel your heartbeat speeding up at the uncertainty of where you were going to find yourself.
The familiar ingrain wallpaper on the barely illuminated ceiling coupled with the barely-there weight of the thin blanket covering you brought knowledge of your present location. You were… home. Frantically, you tried to remember how you got here, coming up with nothing but the not-quite-quantifiable feeling that you were missing memories that would explain everything.
Your related attempt to sit up proved more difficult than expected as pain consumed the left side of your head. All in all, it was a little as if there were an invisible weight trying to keep you in a lying position. You felt so, so worn.
“[Name]?” You knew that voice, despite its unusually meek quality. What was Katsuki doing here? He had no business being here, in this place, where there were countless reminders of all the parts of your life you kept separate from him, where there were blister packs in various states of fullness lying on the nightstand, where there –
Thinking hurt.
There was a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back down onto the mattress. You let yourself be pulled, putting up no resistance and closing your eyes again. You felt all kinds of wrong, and trying to keep your eyes open was not helping.
“You’re home. You’re safe.” If you had been able to properly get your thoughts in order, perhaps you would have questioned how unlike him those words were, but thinking was becoming harder by the instant.
For now, your body helped itself to the rest it desperately needed. Already, you were falling back asleep.
This time around, you dreamed vividly, as if your mind were trying to make up for its period of inaction. The meaning of the shapes and colors in your head was already beginning to fade the second you woke up once more.
You felt like half a person again, which was more than could have been said of you earlier.
Still, you were quite weak as you opened your eyes properly. You were in your own bed, but not alone, which was an anomaly of great proportions. Next to your head, sitting against the headboard with crossed legs, was Katsuki. His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. His breathing was quiet and even.
How the fuck had it ever come to this? This was not what you had wanted, at all. Now he had taken a step behind the veil you had so carefully crafted, and that was irreversible. You had a strong premonition that this was going to mean the end of whatever the two of you were.
You slowly untangled yourself from your blanket, that small amount of movement already exhausting you to no end. But you needed to use the bathroom. Placing one shaky foot on the floor, you were almost up when a cramp shot through your calf. Through pure instinct, you pulled your leg back up onto the bed, pressing the heel of your hand against the quivering muscle to alleviate the pain and make this stop.
Katsuki groaned, awoken by the sounds of your pain.
Already, there was a hand on your shoulder again, distracting you from the slowly fading pain and making you turn your head to him. Your gaze was still a little unfocused, but you could still make out the blankness of his expression. You had never seen him expressionless. It almost made you shiver.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice as devoid of assessable emotion as his mien.
“Kind of,” you tested your voice. Your tongue was too dry and too heavy for your mouth. “Not really. Maybe?” Speaking was harder than thinking, but both were possible again at this point. “Was I…” You swallowed, but it did nothing to make your mouth feel less like a desert. “…awake before? Or did I dream that?”
“For about a minute. Remember anything else?”
You searched your brain, trying to get everything that had become jumbled back into order. (Not an easy feat, considering your mind might best be likened to an M. C. Escher painting, even on the best of days. Today was a particularly bad day.)
“I remember being outside. Then dancing.” You also remembered leaving your drink unsupervised like an idiot, but did not want to put the words out there. You were able to reprehend yourself well enough without saying it out loud. “I think I hit my head?” Reaching up, you could feel a bump near your crest. Touching it stung, making you pull air through your clenched teeth. “But nothing else,” you finished your incomplete retelling of last night’s events.
“You were really fucked up all of a sudden. You fell into a wall at the club. I caught you before you fell again, but I used too much force.” There was still no change in his disturbingly calm tone as he pointed to your right upper arm. You followed the indicated path with your eyes and found bruises that clearly resembled fingers there. Lifting your left hand and putting the pads your fingers on the marks, you silently remarked that he did have big hands.
He had not apologized, but it was implied.
When you said nothing, he kept chronologizing the timeline of what had happened. “You couldn’t fucking walk, and you almost couldn’t fucking talk, so I got you out of there. I was gonna take you to my place, but you kept saying ‘home’ like a broken record.” He paused. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin on top. It was anything from unsettling to downright wrong to be told about things you had experienced without being able to form any coherent memory of them, even now. “I got the address from your ID.”
Your carefully crafted front had been a house of cards, and it had crumbled without you there to maintain it. It was difficult to decide whether to be more upset about this or about the fact that someone had apparently thought you passable enough a victim to spike your drink. Both made you feel incredibly powerless.
“I think someone drugged me.” The words had escaped you before you had had a chance to reconsider them. You did not appreciate the emotional tone your voice had taken on, did not like to be forced into such vulnerability.
Thankfully, your body was willing to remind you that you had a good excuse to flee the scene for just a moment. Once more, you moved to get up, more successful this time, though you were still shaky on your legs. You put one hand against the wall for support as you had to concentrate hard to set one foot in front of the other.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Katsuki asked, his choice of words – as per usual – not a good indicator of whether he was actually angry or not. At some point, he had stood up and was now hovering behind you.
“Bathroom.” You were not so much being curt as you were simply too exhausted to form longer sentences. “I’d like to piss on my own, though.” You were already combusting internally from the embarrassment of having been dependent on him. Anything more, and you would die of shame.
His exasperation was tangible. “Keep the door unlocked, idiot. If you’re not back in ten, I’m coming to get you, and I don’t give a fuck whether you’ve got your pants down or not.”
While going about your business, you held your head in your hands, trying to make sense of everything. Already, you were thinking you had been too abrasive towards him just now. He was always blunt and vulgar, and you knew perfectly well that he was not trying to talk down to you. If anything, he was probably unsettled by last night’s events, maybe even worried. (You hated it when people worried about you. It was even worse to imagine him of all people worrying about you. But he had no way of knowing that.)
You washed your hands and wiped your face with a wet cloth, ridding your skin of the crudest share of ruined make-up. After that, you drank about one liter of cold water straight from the tap. Then, you used some mouthwash, the imagined exertion of using a toothbrush already too much in your current state. Without your allotted ten minutes having passed, you stepped back into the main room of your small apartment.
“Hey,” you said and then paused for a moment because you had caught yourself wanting to call him by a nickname, but all that had come to mind was lover, which was way too intimate to say aloud. You sat down on the side of your bed and habitually reached for your phone, which was exactly where it was supposed to be – plugged into the charger next to your bed. No new messages, a fact you were thankful for right then.
“Thanks for charging my phone.” That was not what you had been wanting to say, but you meant it. “And thank you for getting me home safe.” That was what you had been wanting to say, and you also meant it.
While you began your google search, he answered to only your latter declaration of gratitude. “What the hell was I supposed to do, fuck off and leave you there?”
You were unsure whether he could see your bitter smile from his position. “That’s probably what whoever drugged me was hoping for.”
“But why go for a woman who obviously isn’t alone?”
Discussing the precise parameters of the attempted assault on you made you feel uneasy and very empty inside. “Who the fuck knows. Maybe they thought that you didn’t actually know me, and if I were out of it, you’d leave me there. Or maybe they just thought I seemed easy.”
“I’m gonna find and murder that fucker. And don’t even start with that ‘blaming yourself’ bullshit. You’re not easy.”
“I am, and you should know that better than anyone.” You were headed for a fight, you realized. And despite your head still not feeling quite right, you welcomed it. You preferred a quick and painful ending to a slow fadeout any day.
“Bullshit. Fuck that. And stop telling me I know shit. I know fuck-all about you. I had to check your ID for your address and last name, for fuck’s sake. And we’ve been fucking for seven months! Also, what the fuck are you doing?” He was referring to you still typing on your phone. “At least look at me while we’re talking!”
Since the end had now officially begun, you felt little inclination to keep information confidential anymore. “I’m looking up the most common types of roofies and trying to find out whether there’s a risk of adverse interaction with my antipsychotics.”
He did not know how to properly react to that information, if his silence was any indication.
“Fuck it,” you continued rather than to wait for him to think of something to say. “It’s not like I’m not gonna take my meds.” You’d been there before, and you were not keen on a replay of that spectacle, regardless of whether you were risking adverse effects or not.
One (surprisingly small) yellow pill later, you finally settled in properly next to him, back against the headboard.
“Look, Katsuki. When I went home with you for the first time, I assumed that it’d be a one-time thing. And then, when it wasn’t, I still thought that that… spark, or whatever, between us would eventually flicker out, and that we’d grow bored and stop seeing each other. I wasn’t planning on you becoming a fucking seven-month-stand.”
He made a sound then that was parts snicker and parts derision. Still, he shuffled closer, until his upper arm was pressed against your own. His skin seemed cold, but yours was colder. Fair enough, you thought, before continuing.
“And I don’t really like sharing anything about myself, because, to be frank, I’m not in the greatest place right now. I’m way better than I used to be, but not… good. And since we weren’t together or anything, it was easy to reason with myself that I didn’t need to tell you anything about me. And to be fair, you never really asked.”
He interrupted you then. “Yeah, because I got the message pretty fucking early that I wasn’t supposed to ask. I may be kind of an asshole, but I’m not unobservant enough to miss that you never fucking talk about yourself.” He was annoyed, and he had a right to be.
“I’m not accusing you. I was glad you never asked, because that made it easier for me.” You considered for a moment how to best put it into words he would understand. It was not as easy as it could have been, your general exhaustion blurring into the drowsiness from your medication. “It’s like… there’s all of this bullshit, and it’s not that far below the surface once you disturb the waters. It goes from ‘Hey, I’m [Name], I’m twenty-four,’ to ‘So what do you do for a living?’ to ‘I’m in university,’ to ‘What do you study?’ to ‘Human Quirk Biology,’ to ‘What semester are you in?’ to ‘I’m on a break right now,’ to ‘Why?’ to ‘Oh, I went kind of crazy and spent a while in a mental hospital and now I’m trying to get back on my feet,’ really quickly.”
You paused, giving him time to let that settle.
Against all of your expectations, he put his arm around you. You did not miss the fact that he placed his hand near your elbow rather than further up on your arm, avoiding the bruises from last night.
“You know,” he said, “I knew you were older than me, but I wasn’t expecting five damn years.”
His reply was so out there, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. For a moment there, you had forgotten how much you enjoyed being around him. This also reminded you that less than a day ago, you had been having the time of your life, getting the daylights fucked out of you in a bathroom stall. There must have been a fissure in time with how long ago that felt.
“That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the ‘I’ve been getting it on with a schizo’ part?”
“No, dumbass, I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. So, does that mean you’re schizophrenic?”
“Schizoaffective. Not sure whether that information gives you something to work with or not.”
He just scoffed, squeezing you to his side. You understood the hint and moved on to explain. “Basically, I go through these manic episodes. They start out pretty nice, I’ll be in a great mood – downright ecstatic – for a while, and all is well. And then I start making all of these plans, and, at first, they’re realistic – maybe after I get my bachelor’s degree, I’ll go for a master’s. And then, they aren’t. Like, screw the master’s, Imma get a doctorate! And on the side, I’ll write a series of novels that will be great and everyone’s gonna read them and know my name! And then, it goes downhill fast. I don’t need sleep because I’m not like normal people! Also, things that hurt others can’t hurt me, because I’m superhuman! And that’s about the time it switches from manic to psychotic. I’m superhuman, but things aren’t working out the way I wanted them to, why is that? It’s because someone out there is scared of what I could do with my powers, and they’re pulling strings to keep me down. It has to be someone close to me, because they somehow know where I am and what I’m doing at all times. What if they implanted me with some kind of device and then erased my memory of it? Hasn’t the back of my neck been itchy for a few days now?”
You paused to catch your breath, because you had been ranting. Then, you decided you might as well go all out to emphasize the gravity of your condition. Maybe that way, he would not feel as bad about leaving when he did.
Reaching up, you lifted your hair from the back of your neck to the side. “That scar? It’s from when I tried to cut out a nonexistent chip with a pocket knife.”
That was when a shiver went through him, strongly enough for you to feel it. “That’s some fucked-up shit,” he pressed through his teeth. Still, he did not actually recoil from you, opting instead to hold onto you tighter.
You knew it was a crass thing to share, but you needed him to understand that your disorder was not some romanticizeable gimmick that bestowed temerity upon you. It was not a thing that would ever pass. It was a life sentence.
“I’m sorry for being graphic. I wish there were prettier words for it. But it was really bad. I was twenty-two at the time. They took me to a hospital, and after a while on medication, I got a lot better. Good enough to return to life as planned, as long as I was taking the antipsychotics. So that’s what I did. But I was taking a different drug then, and I had pretty bad side effects. I was tired basically twenty-four/seven. I felt like someone had wrapped me in bubble-wrap, and everything was dull and muffled. Oh, and guess what?”
“What,” he stated and did not guess.
“You know how I have a pretty big sex drive?”
“You tell me,” he deadpanned, motioning for you to keep talking.
“Well, I lost all of that too. And I wasn’t able to orgasm, no matter what I did.” You kind of wanted to wait for his reaction to that information, but decided that he deserved all of the story, which required you to get on with it. “So, I went off my meds, because everything sucked, and I told myself that my first episode had probably been a one-time thing, because – isn’t there a statistic that one in three people goes crazy at some point in their lives or something? That was about a year ago. Well, guess what, that was a bullshit idea, and I ended up relapsing. It wasn’t quite as bad as the first time, probably because I was admitted to a clinic pretty early on this time around. I started a new type of medication that doesn’t cause me tons of side effects. Been on it ever since.”
Perhaps, to put all of this into perspective, you could end the whole story on a more positive note, it occurred to you. “I’m going back to university once the new semester starts in a few weeks, too. So, I’m not… in as bad a place as I used to be, I guess.”
He made a quiet noise deep in his throat to signal that he realized you were done with your tale.
You felt like you had been talking for hours, although it had more realistically only been ten minutes. Your perception of time was genuinely crooked, and you were unsure whether it was a residuum of whatever had been given to you last night or simply a side effect of this situation that you had been entirely unprepared for.
“So,” he began eventually, the arm he had had around you all this time slowly sliding from around your shoulders. You tried your best to prepare yourself for the rejection that was sure to come. “You never told me about your disorder because, what? You thought I’d tell you to fuck off?”
“Well,” you answered and got up, having trouble looking him in the eye. This was getting dangerously close to the terrain of your feelings for him, a matter you would strongly prefer to leave untouched.
Slowly, and trying not to move your head too much, you took off the leggings and shirt you were still wearing from last night. You even still had your bra on. You appreciated the fact that Katsuki had not undressed you. You felt violated enough in your physical integrity as it was. (You did not mind him seeing you naked, as evidenced by the fact that you were changing in front of him without a second thought right now. But the idea of not being conscious while someone handled you was too unsettling for words.)
“Basically, I figure there’s not a lot of different ways to react to that kind of information. Either you think I’m making it up for attention, or you think it’s creepy, or you think you can save me. One isn’t true, one kind of is, I guess, and the last one’s impossible because it’s not a temporary or conditional thing. But yeah, I kinda assumed that either way, it’d end up with us parting ways, because you shouldn’t have to deal with my mental illness. It’s not like you’re my boyfriend.”
You took off your bra and then pulled on a fresh black top and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Looking attractive was not a priority at this point.
“Oh, fuck that, [Name].” You could actually hear him in- and exhaling, the strain of trying to contain himself obviously trying. “I get what you’re saying, but – shit, I’d really fucking appreciate it if you let me decide for myself what the hell I’m thinking or not?!”
He inarguably had a point. Of course it was unfair of you to preemptively ascribe to him one or several ways of thinking. But you had spent so much time considering and reconsidering all of these things in an attempt to avoid unnecessary pain whenever the inevitable rejection came – it was difficult to break out of this circular thought structure now.
He had more to say. “Obviously I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I barely actually know anything about you, we’ve been over this, damn it. And I still don’t fucking get it. I can know all the ways you like to be fucked, I can know that being talked down to during sex gets you off, but I can’t know anything else about you? Not even your fucking last name? And why, because I’m not your stupid boyfriend?”
“I just…” You sat on the bed again, legs crossed, facing him. It would have been easier not to look at him while admitting this, but you could not not look at him now. “I didn’t want to overshare. And it’s easier to say nothing at all than to avoid one specific topic, especially when pretty much any other topic is related to it somehow. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to never see you again.” And, simply because you were already sorely vulnerable at this point and opening yourself further could not do anymore harm, “Am I never gonna see you again?”
This was what scared you. Once more, time seemed to bend and crumble and rise from the ashes in all kinds of unnatural ways until he answered.
He shook his head, still not having moved from his position at the head of your bed. “Shit, woman, you’re barely to stand up straight. You fucking took your medication without knowing whether it’ll interact with what’s still in you from last night. Do you honestly, for even a fucking second, think that I’m about to leave you alone? In that case, you’re way dumber than you seem.”
His one-sided smirk was only partially able to hide the sheer exhaustion on his face, the furrow between his brows deeper than you had ever seen it. Apparently, he was staying.
“And now, lie the fuck back down before you fall against anymore walls.” It was clearly an order, and one you did not mind following.
The rest of the day would feel just as surreal as everything else that had occurred so far.
You caught a few more hours of sleep, divided into several smaller naps. Katsuki never left your side, like a dog guarding you from anything that might aim to do further harm to you.
(Never mind the fact that all that could harm you now were chemicals already inside your body, and… well, your stupid head. Your stupid head, that was already trying to twist last night’s most likely coincidental attack into the idea that someone was trying to harm you individually. But that made no sense. You were able distance yourself from that train of thought well enough, and that was an important realization that calmed you, at least a little bit.)
Appalled by the jarring lack of proper food in your refrigerator, he ended up ordering pizza for the both of you. You ate while streaming the newest season of your favorite animated show on your old, but faithful laptop. Katsuki had never seen it, but complained about it less than he could have.
Already, he seemed to feel more at home at your place than you had done for the first half of a year you had lived here. And you felt more at home with him here.
Lying next to him, head on his chest while fully dressed was a new, but not unpleasant experience. You had had it all twisted, you thought. Was it not more normal to be surprised by how someone’s bare skin felt after only knowing them clothed? Now, it was your turn to be stunned by how intimate it felt to be close him in a situation that was clearly non-sexual. Even his hand under the back of your top, just resting there, felt right. It seemed he simply enjoyed the feeling of your bare skin, be it the leadup to something more basal or not.
The most important development, however, was the agreement he and you found regarding your future. The two of you would simply keep going the way you had been up until so far – but you were not to censor yourself anymore. That way, he would have a chance to finally know you in all the ways he did not, or did not yet. And wherever that would lead you both, it would probably be okay.
“Just so you know, I reserve the right to tell you to fuck off once I know you better.”
You laughed out loud, nuzzling his cheek before kissing him, softly, for the briefest of moments. “You do that. I need a boyfriend like I need a hole in my head.”
If mutual exclusivity was what defined the relationship between two people, you already had a boyfriend in him. But to argue definitions at this point would be to get ahead of yourselves.
For now, all you were able to register was Eijirou, and yourself, and the negligibly small amount of space between you that seemed wider than the distance between stars.
Unlimited potential for greatness. Unlimited potential for loss.
Somehow, your room felt more like home whenever Eijirou was there with you.
He had originally come over to your dorm room to study for an upcoming exam on biological parameters of quirk heredity together. Now, a few hours later, your books and notes lay all but abandoned on the floor surrounding your bed.
Across said bed, there were your best friend and yourself, sprawled out comfortably among your too-many pillows as outside, an early fall dusk colored the sky. At the foot of the bed, your laptop was set up, another episode of your favorite show just about to start playing.
Looking at the thumbnail in the corner, you remembered the plot of the next episode. “Oh, I love this one!” you declared happily, turning your head to see whether your fellow watcher approved as well.
“So do I. You know that, we’ve seen it, like, five times together.” He grinned, having called you out on the redundancy of your silent query.
Perhaps someone else may have found the idea of watching the same countless seasons of the same old show over and over boring. For the two of you, it was the epitome of comfort.
For you personally, one upside to this shared habit was that you already knew what was going to happen on the screen – so who could fault you for finding something (or someone?) else to focus your gaze and attention on?
You liked watching him like this. It was fairly dark in your room by now, and the small source of light your computer offered gave his complexion an uncharacteristically pale glow. His hair was in spikes, as per usual, though some on the back and side of his head had been flattened after being pushed into one of your pillows. The t-shirt he was wearing had some kind of stupid wrestling pun printed on it, but even that could not distract you from how good he looked in a white shirt. He was a joy to look at, and if looking was all you would ever get to do to him, you would be able to live with it. Probably. Maybe. Possibly.
Recently, you had been forced to admit to yourself that the capacity of the feelings you harbored for him had little to do with platonism anymore. His personality was loud, and present, and positive, and all kinds of good things, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
You were under the misconception that he did not notice you watching him. This, to your chagrin, was rectified as soon as he spoke again. “Am I seriously that much more interesting than one of your favorite episodes?” His tone was benign; as was his smile. Nonetheless, your heart stopped for a moment at being caught.
You should have been embarrassed, you thought. But different convictions waged a short battle inside you. While you had managed to pinpoint how you felt for him, it was harder to form an idea of how he saw you. There had been occasions when you had entertained the notion that your attraction might just be mutual. In fact, those occasions had become more numerous recently. Hugs that lasted just that tiny bit longer than necessary. Brushes of his arm against yours that could have been easily avoided. The occasional hand at the small of your back while walking together. And, not to be passed over, that one time you had helped him dye his hair, when he had pulled you into his lap to take a selfie together. (Your heart still fluttered at the memory.)
As long as you said nothing, there was unlimited potential for where the story of the both of you might yet go. You decided to limit it right then.
“I just really like looking at you.” This much information was still rather noncommittal, at least compared to how much more you could have said.
He beamed in reply, shuffling a little closer to you. “I like looking at you, too.”
Voices and canned laughter still sounded from the foot of your bed, but that was unimportant. For now, all you were able to register was Eijirou, and yourself, and the negligibly small amount of space between you that seemed wider than the distance between stars.
Unlimited potential for greatness. Unlimited potential for loss.
You wanted to award words to what you were feeling, to tell and ask him everything at once. That you felt so, so much for him, and whether he might ever be able to reciprocate? And that even if he did not, you were never going to not want to be around him, and whether maybe, just maybe, this was the best opportunity you were ever going to get?
If words did not want to work with you, actions would have to do. You shuffled closer to him still and put your head on his chest, just below his clavicle. Never had anything required so much courage.
His reaction came swiftly, and it was a good thing, too. If you had had to fear rejection for even a second longer, you may have burst. His strong arm wrapping around your comparatively narrow shoulders kept you whole.
In this position, you could no longer look into his eyes. You willed yourself to find calmness in that fact. Now, you would be able to keep watching the since-forgotten-about episode of your show, with the added bonus of being held by your favorite person. To want more would have been greedy.
But you were greedy. And how could you not have been? You could hear his heartbeat, incessantly reminding you of the lifeforce pumping through him. You could smell the scent of the detergent he used on his stupid shirt. You could feel his warmth against your cheek, even through the fabric. And you could feel his breath on the crown of your head, softly teasing strands of your hair every time he exhaled. Every new sensation of intimacy left you hungry for more, your heart aching with greed.
Unlimited potential for loving and being loved in return.
Without moving from your position, you placed a hand on his chest, resting it at the bottom of his ribcage. The skin dipped a bit there, connecting the distance between his last rib and the first muscle of his abdomen. You wanted to get to know his body better than your own.
With how positively he had responded to your advances so far, the next step took a little less bravery than the last. You turned your head upwards until you were almost facing him again, resting your cheek on the pillow next to his. Due to the slight height difference of your positions, there was an inch or two of space left between your mouth and his, and you had never been as aware of anything as you were of this.
But if there were a final step to be taken, you needed him to be the one to do it.
His eyes caught on yours and their intensity let you know that he had understood your preposition perfectly. You had been expecting no less. There was no one who knew you better in the world than him.
Your heart was beating in your throat. You were unable to look away from him, trapped in the moment and in the idea of what you desperately wished would happen next. A second felt like an hour and a half as he moved in what must have been slow motion, his arm around your shoulders tightening, fingers pressing into your upper arm.
His lips met yours, warm and soft and everything you could have dreamed of. Your eyes slowly shut on their own accord as you kissed him back, letting all the things you had been and were still unable to voice out loud flow into the movement.
It was not your first kiss, and you knew for a fact that it was not his first kiss, either. Nonetheless, it was the first kiss. The kind of kiss romance novels meandered on and on about, that made you lose your perception of space and time, that pulled the world from beneath your feet and had you falling fast. The kind of first kiss that you had thus far deemed an unrealistic standard and invention of idealistic authors of purple prose.
It was electrical and made you feel like the nerve endings in your lips had tripled in number. Your mouth moved against his in earnest, and he reciprocated the urgency you conveyed. As the kiss deepened, he never became greedier than you needed him to be, giving you exactly as much as you required and never demanding more.
Before long, you had to break away because you may have lost your connection to reality otherwise. Unable to contain your happiness, a smile consumed your face without any conscious decision on your part. Eijirou smiled back at you as you giggled gleefully, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly, face against his neck.
Snaking his arms around your waist, he returned your embrace and held you tightly against him, joining in your laughter.
“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he admitted into your hair, all necessity for emotional restraint now gone.
“I’m so happy,” you said into his neck, as if that much had not been obvious already. Happy did not quite cut it, in all honesty. Elated. Ecstatic. Exuberant. (And perhaps, a couple more adjectives beginning with E.)
His hold on you relaxed a bit, though he did not let go. Pulling his head back far enough to be able to look at you again, he simply answered, “Me, too.” The blush on his cheeks seemed to stem less from embarrassment than from how diligently and thoroughly he had been kissing you just now.
If anyone had asked you then, you would have been unable to properly describe the pure marvel of knowing that the person you had fallen for had also been falling for you, all this time. You had been so scared of losing him. Now, instead of losing him as a friend, you had gained him as something more. And no matter what shape or form that something more was to take on, he was still going to be your best friend in the whole wide world.
Full of glee at that realization, you pressed your mouth to his once more, already craving his taste again. Again and again and again, the two of you swallowed the other’s breath, unable to resist this newfound favorite pastime of yours.
Every now and then, you took breaks to simply hold onto each other or cuddle, or even, at times, to simply look at each other in disbelief, making sure that this was not a dream, but rather your new reality.
You never wanted to let go of him again. So you did not, even as evening became night.
There were few things Aizawa Shouta hated as much about being a teacher as the night shifts. Ever since Yuuei had built dorms, allowing their students to live on campus, there had to be at least one member of the faculty present at all times, just in case. Night shifts included patrolling the hallways a couple of times per night in order to make sure that all of the students were where they were supposed to be and that no untoward things were going on.
(As if untoward happenings were somehow reserved to the night hours.)
He was almost done with his patrol, having checked up on almost all of the third years’ floors and just about mentally ready to fall back into his sleeping bag in the teachers’ lounge. It was not like the students were going to throw a party on a weekday, after all.
It was then that he spotted something unusual. One of the doors diverging from this hallway was not all the way closed. On closer inspection, Aizawa realized that it was Kirishima Eijirou’s room it led to. He sighed internally. Of course it had to be one of his students. He really could not catch a break, now could he?
After checking whether the room’s inhabitant truly was not there and having this notion confirmed, he purposefully made his way towards the stairwell. It could not be said that he did not know his students well, after all.
Once on the third year girls’ floor, his path led him directly to your door, without any potential detours even crossing his mind.
He knocked once, and when that remained unanswered, he knocked again, louder this time. When the second knock, too, did not garner any reply from beyond your door, he was already trying to think of all kinds of places the two of you may have snuck off to together. Even if he did find you, he then would have to punish you, and that meant thinking of a punishment first, and – sigh – he was way too tired for any of this.
Just to rule out all eventualities, though, he took out his master key, sighing as he unlocked your door. He did not like to impose on his students’ privacy any more than absolutely necessary.
What he did find was his two missing students, sleeping the sleep of the just. Holding onto each other, yes, but very much decent apart from that. The only illumination was a laptop beside the two of you, the video on it paused and asking its audience whether they were still watching. They were not.
Aizawa leaned against the doorframe then, resting his forehead against his fist in annoyance. He really needed to react to this somehow – Kirishima was not only breaking curfew, but breaking curfew inside a girl’s room.
On one hand, both of you were legal adults by now and he could imagine a couple dozens of things on the spot that he would rather be doing than meddling in your personal affairs. On the other hand, you were living on Academy grounds, and that came with certain rules. Despite this current display’s rather tame nature – the theoretical implications were worrying.
But while about ninety percent of what he was feeling was irritation, there was a small voice in him left that supposed that the whole situation was kind of sweet. A bother all in all, but also kind of sweet. (He had been eighteen once, too.)
Eventually, he decided that what was happening right now was harmless, so he simply closed the door and left the two of you to sleep rather than to intervene immediately.
After all, this meant that Kirishima would have to sneak back to his own room in the morning, and that would be as good a time as any to bust him. Then, he was planning to have a stern talk with the both of you, hopefully embarrassing Kirishima and you to no end. Hopefully, that would succeed in getting the two of you to at least be more sneaky.
Aw honey, its okay to answear it on public!! I really love that fic and im so happy that the author is just as lovely as the fic (: i hope you have a wonderful week and stay healthy! Dont overwork yourself and take your time, we will wait patiently! Sorry for any typos, my mother language is portuguese T-T. You r really lovely, thank you for being so kind to me 💕💕 Im so happy that there are still authors that have this kindness and sympathy to answear asks privatly. Thank you so much ! 💕❤💕❤
In that case, I’ll answer this one publicly! It’s a little easier for me like this, since this is a side blog and thus, I usually send (answers to) asks anonymously.
I think you must be one of the loveliest readers who’ve ever gotten in contact with me! I’m beyond happy you like both the fic and little old me. ♥
Actually, I do believe your encouragement helped me finish the newest chapter faster than I would have otherwise!
And please never worry about typos around me! I’m not a native speaker either, so I get what it’s like. You’re perfectly understandable. :)
Thank you for everything! ♥ You, too, have a lovely week. I hope you’re doing well.
When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
-
Word Count: 2671
Once again, you found yourself at Katsuki’s place – his bed, specifically. While he was entirely in the nude, you were topless, still wearing your jeans.
As you were lying on your side next to him, pumping his erection with one hand, his head was bent to access your chest. He was palming one of your breasts, pulling and squeezing at the flesh while sucking your nipple. You sighed contentedly, trying hard to keep up with the multitasking.
In your other, non-dominant hand you held your phone, scrolling through the news tagged with his hero name. You clicked on another article from a few days ago, never stilling your hand on his cock while you read the title out loud.
“Local top hero arrives in the nick of time, saves three hostages and arrests villain in a BLAST.”
You laughed as he pulled away from your chest with a wet sound. Immediately, you began to miss the stimulation, your body yearning for his attention.
“They must’ve made that same stupid joke about a hundred fucking times by now. Apparently, they don’t get paid enough to come up with anything new.”
“Don’t you like the attention? And besides, who told you you could take your mouth off me?” You smirked at him. His pupils narrowed, perfectly emphasizing the pure red of his eyes.
“Don’t worry, you’re gonna get fucked soon enough. First though, I’m gonna ask you why the fuck you’re checking news about me now of all times? Don’t tell me it gets you off.”
You squeezed his length in your hand, running your thumb along the already-wet slit on his glans. “Does reading the news get me off? No. Does knowing that you’re super-heroic when you’re out there, doing your job?” You paused, making a sound of contemplation. “Kind of. Mostly it’s kinda intimidating, though.” The way you gleamed at him had little to do with intimidation, despite your admission.
You had been telling the truth, however. As soon as you had left his place after finding out about his career, you had googled him. After scrolling through the first couple of hits, you had closed the window again. Trying to reconcile his existence as a person famous for doing good deeds with the small look inside his world you had been privy to until then had got your head reeling.
He reached for your breasts again, rolling your nipples with his thumbs while pushing his face against the side of your neck, leaving an open-mouthed kiss under your ear before he spoke once more, quietly but roughly. “You didn’t seem all that intimidated the last time you were riding my face.”
You laughed, squeezing your thighs together to perfectly savor the sparks of arousal his words had sent to your core. “Just fuck me already, you big, arrogant hero.”
He quickly abided by your wish, reaching to unbutton your ripped jeans. Your phone lay somewhere on the side of the bed, already long forgotten about.
“Are you seriously wearing fishnets under your jeans? Damn it, woman, you know I’m just gonna get you out of your clothes as soon as you get here.” He seemed genuinely exasperated, if only for a moment.
“Well, excuse me for trying to look at least a little bit attractive. Maybe next time I should wear a potato sack, which will have me looking like shit, but will give you infinitely much easier access.”
He made a sound that may have been a chuckle and pressed his lips to the skin just below your navel, sucking on it for a moment before breaking away. “Like you could ever look like shit.”
“Flatterer,” you joked, resisting the urge to run your hand through his hair lovingly. Instead, you lifted your hips to make it easier for him to peel the skinny jeans and the tights off your form.
“Do you have, like, a never-ending supply of these fucking things? Like, ‘These are my Monday fishnets, these are my good fishnets for high holidays only, these…’”
“Oh, shut up.” Smiling, you flipped him over onto his back, reaching down with one hand to pull your panties off as quickly as you could.
“Make me,” he said, grinning up at you tauntingly as you were straddling him, as if he already knew where you were about to take things.
Lying there underneath you, with his erection hard and waiting for you take action, he looked captivating. You wanted to run your hands all over his body and never breathe anything beside him ever again.
“I plan to,” you retorted, shuffling up to align your pelvis with his face. “You gave me an idea earlier.”
The consent you had been waiting for came in the form of his strong, calloused hands gripping your hips and forcing you to sit on his face properly, where his tongue was already waiting to meet your clit.
Reaching forward with your hands, you placed your palms against the wall above his bed to steady yourself. Then, you began to ride his mouth in earnest.
The wanting had taken a hold of you again.
You were at the indoor pool, underwater. When you had been younger, you had often come here. In recent months, not as much anymore. Still, your routine was intact, as if you had never left. The pool was open around the clock, and you had intentionally chosen a timeframe when very few others would be there – the early morning hours (or perhaps still night hours) of a weekday.
Here, in this corner at the deep end of the pool, you could pretend that you were all alone in the world, if only for a moment. You enjoyed the pressure of the water, some fifteen feet below the surface. It was dark down here, and though you were sure there were other visitors on the far end of the pool, you could not see them from this distance with the little illumination coming from far above you.
Darkness. Silence. Pressure. It was laughable, but these conditions made you feel more human, closer to being an actual person that you were at any other time. It felt like the pressure was containing your essence inside your body, keeping all of you inside you when at any other time, you threatened to spill.
You had, in a momentous lapse of judgment, perhaps still delirious from the wholeness he had brought you, kissed him goodbye.
Next to you, there were steps built into the pool wall – a safety measure so people could leave even if the water was drained. In opposition to their intended purpose, you used them to hold yourself underwater. The liquid’s buoyancy was trying its best to coax you upwards. Once, you had tried to combat it by breathing water – it was not like you needed vacant lungs to keep going. It had worked for a moment, but it had not been worth the pain and vomiting that had followed.
You had come back here today because you hoped that it would illuminate for you a path back to yourself. Away from the wanting, the superhuman force pulling at you from all sides.
It never began slowly. With you, it had always been all or nothing. A flame that burned brightly, yet never lasted, because you needed to pull back, back back back, lest you burn the person who had provided you with the accelerant in the first place.
You attempted to remind yourself that unlike a couple of months or years ago, you had not gone off your medication. The antipsychotics were as much a part of your routine now as breathing, more so, in fact, since you needed the one more than the other. As were the mantras you had adopted through years of cognitive behavioral therapy, most of them adaptable at any time to your current cause of anxious spiraling.
It is a misconception that letting yourself have feelings directly causes your mania. Correlation does not imply causation. – Yes, all of your manic episodes correlated with times when you fell, no, thought you had fallen in love. No, not all of the times you fell, no, thought you had fallen in love were followed by an episode. – The meds help you, they are not making you ill. – Yes, you will probably have to take them for the rest of your life. Yes, that will probably significantly diminish your life expectancy. No, that does not mean you would be better off without them. – Manic is not better than functional with a crush. Psychotic is not better than this.
You still wanted, but the pressure was helping you not to dissolve.
You wondered whether higher pressure would work better yet, but you had never had the chance to try it. Perhaps one day, you would see and feel the sea.
Until then, you would have to find another way to silence the part of you that had stopped to kiss him goodbye when you had left his apartment. You had to find a way to not want; or, if that did not work, to find a way that made him incapable of wanting you.
The only way you could think of was to remain a mystery to him. Of course, you could have just as well stopped seeing him, but the thought was unthinkable. You could have begun to intentionally be unkind to him, but the action was infeasible.
The only thing you could see yourself doing was to be more of an event than of a person to him. You decided that to him, you would cease to exist whenever you left his place. If part of being a person was to share demographical information, was to go places, to have plans, to go about your life, you would do none of those things.
Of course, you still did do those things, just not in front of him. You diligently took the aripiprazole. You made preparations to go back to university next semester. You unpacked a couple more of the innumerable moving boxes full of things you theoretically owned littering your apartment. (You had moved into this apartment almost a year ago. It had not been changed much by your presence.) You let yourself have a little crush.
Your plan worked, somewhat. Unfortunately, your only strategy to talk to him without sharing anything was to ask him about himself. He seemed content to answer every question you had for him, if not without a lot of sarcasm and cursing. It was unfortunate only because this way, you kept getting to know him better and better. And thus, the wanting grew.
Several weeks later, the radius of places where he would fuck you had grown from the boys’ shared apartment to include, at first, the backseat of Katsuki’s car ( – he had a car! – ), and then, the bathroom(s) of not one, but three nightclubs you frequented.
“Holy shit,” you breathed, more whine than moan as he drove his shaft inside you relentlessly. With your legs wrapped around his waist, thighs resting on his hips, each snap of his pelvis let you appreciate the solidity of the tiled wall against your spine.
Despite how often you had had sex with him by now, it still felt as though he were stretching you beyond your limits. You felt him deep inside and deeper still, the pleasure he was providing you overcoming all of your senses. Wrapping your arms around his neck and the back of his head, you pulled him as close as was humanly possible. His mouth was open against your neck, his panting breath hot against your already warm skin. He was not biting down, precisely, but you could feel the sharpness of his teeth pressing into you.
“Is this what you were imagining when you first came onto me on that dancefloor out there?” His speech was muffled by your skin, but you heard him as clearly as distilled alcohol, as if he were speaking right inside your head. “That we’d head back here and you’d get fucked into oblivion?”
“It was one idea out of many.” You only just barely got the words out, reality threatening to escape you. He was so hard, and perfect, and everywhere. “Didn’t think it’d become a habit. Shit, how does your dick feel so amazing?” Your eyes were squeezing shut now, desperation painting your path to completion.
There was nothing but his cock inside you, and his teeth on your neck, and his voice in your brain. “I couldn’t stop fucking you if I tried. Your cunt’s so tight and hot, you’re fucking perfect.”
The compliment was what got to you in the end. You were coming, harshly, desperately, squeezing him inside you. It was as if your body, too, could not imagine ever letting him go. Perhaps it was that intensity that tore him down with you into a world of bliss.
A little while later, you were leaning onto the bar, waiting for the drink you had just ordered. Despite how much you partied, you rarely drank alcohol these days. Right now, however, after the thorough fucking you had just received, you felt in the mood for gin.
Katsuki came up behind you, placing one hand on your hip and pressing a prolonged kiss onto the naked skin between your shoulder blades, bared by the lowcut back of your shirt. He got like this sometimes after sex – physically affectionate in ways he usually was not. You knew not to interpret anything into it, not even into the fact that he obviously did not mind showing you affection in public. He cared little about people’s opinions of him, and that apparently extended to things like these. You simply enjoyed it.
“You’re drinking for once?” he questioned as the glass was placed before you.
“Just the one.” You smiled and reached for his wrist to pull him outside with you. The whole situation held a flavor of déjà-vu.
Outside, a somewhat dark corner found the two of you, inviting kisses and lazy, post-coital T-rated touching. Things were so easy with him. If only they could be that way forever.
If only.
When you returned inside, you reached for your drink off the table beside the door leading to the enclosed patio. The club did not allow glasses to be taken outside. Draining the rest of your gin and tonic, you followed your not-boyfriend onto the dancefloor where it all had begun.
And just like that fateful first time, you were swallowed by the music and trapped in Katsuki’s gaze. He was just as intense now, perhaps more so because you had had a taste – or, more correctly, multiple tastes. Enough tastes to declare him your favorite.
You especially liked how present he was physically – it was not simply a question of height or strength. He held an aura of power, of there being more to him than met the eye. He was endlessly fascinating.
The feeling of awe inside you persisted for a moment, then twisted and turned into something else. A scattered sense of dread was in its place now. You felt like you were in a different place suddenly, the bass of the techno beat growing louder, then predominant. The bright colors of the flickering lights swam into long, serrated scotoma.
“I…” Your voice was not really your own. “I need to…” You didn’t know what you needed to do.
Stumbling out into the darker hallway between here and there, you knew very little at all. Something hard – and painful? – fell into you, your shoulder and the side of your head weak in comparison. No, it was you that had fallen against the wall. You were only walking because it was an automatism.
Something was tight on your upper arm, not the one that was already hurting.
“Shit, [Name], what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Everything was wrong with you, you thought, or did not think, because thinking was not a thing you did right then. Next, nothing.
You help your friend with dyeing his hair. (The complementary feelings come free of charge.)
“Okay, so the back of the box says to ‘spread it generously in your hair and leave it in for twenty to thirty minutes, depending on your natural hair type and color’,” you read aloud, wrinkling your nose at the strong chemical smell of the bleaching agent Eijirou had prepared in a plastic bowl.
The two of you were in his bathroom with various combs, dye brushes and other hair dyeing equipment strewn around you. Normally, he took care of touching up the fiery red color of his hair by himself. Today, however, you had been around to hang out anyways – and without further ado, he had enlisted your help. Apparently, doing it himself was feasible, but a hassle nonetheless.
“So, thirty it is,” he decided, pointing to his jet-black roots.
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to accidentally damage your hair or anything… I mean, what if it falls out and it’s my fault?” You, on the other hand, had never dyed your hair any crazy color. You had never dyed your hair, period.
“Relax,” he laughed, sitting down on the chair he had carried into the bathroom. “I’ve been doing this for ages. Just do as I say, okay?”
It was difficult to argue with his shark-toothed smile. You reached for a hairbrush and began to gently run it through his mane, ridding it of any kinks left by his gratuitous everyday use of gel and hair lacquer.
Right now, though, it was the softest thing you had ever touched. The strands fell through your fingers like cold, red liquid. You rarely saw him like this. Partially because he rarely wore his hair down these days, but mostly because he touched up his roots so meticulously. You were not sure you had ever actually seen any of his natural black hair color.
Your fingernails brushed against his scalp as you parted it on one side, and, against all of your expectations – he purred. Or maybe he did not exactly purr, but a human equivalent that was close enough to beg the comparison.
He seemed just as surprised by the sound he had made as you were, because his head snapped forward a few inches, his eyes shooting open. Scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment, he grinned, rushing to explain himself. “Sorry about that. I’m just not…” He trailed off and began again. “It’s just…”
“…nice to have someone tinkering with your hair?” you finished his sentence, one edge of your mouth lifting in a partial smile. You hoped that your voice was not actually dripping as much fondness for him as you felt in your still-errantly-beating heart. “I get it. I love it when other people play with my hair. No need to be embarrassed.”
It seemed he took your reassurance to heart. While you were finishing your current task, he kept making small and not-so-small noises of obvious approval that had you reconsidering your decision to help him. If you did not pay attention, you may as well have walked into this bathroom with unclear-perhaps-romantic feelings for your friend, but you were going to walk out half in love.
Then came the hydrogen peroxide. A less pleasurable task that involved rubber gloves. Nonetheless, you took great care to spread the purpleish-white matter evenly on his black roots, trying not to get any on the parts that were red already.
Once the promised half hour had begun, you sat down on the edge of the bathtub, facing him. “Let’s hope you made a good call trusting me with this, Ei.” You held your arms out awkwardly, trying hard not to get any of the bleach on your clothes. You probably looked ridiculous.
“I’m sure I did,” he emphasized, radiating positivity as always. You and your heart both swore he must have been brighter than the sun. Not just specifically in this moment, but rather in general.
The time passed quickly while you were talking to each other about anything and everything. When the alarm he had set on his phone rang, you got straight back to work. While Eijirou was leaning over the bathtub, you turned on the showerhead. You let the water run over your hand for a few moments, trying to properly adjust it to a pleasantly warm temperature – a feat that was proving harder than expected with these frustrating gloves.
Finally, you reduced the water pressure a bit and stepped behind him, pointing the stream at the nape of his neck at first. “How’s this for temperature?”
“Perfect,” he sighed. His voice sounded a little contorted, partially from the uncomfortable position he was in with the edge of the tub pressing into his chest, partially from the weird kind-of-echo the tub provided. Still, his answer had seemed quite content to your ears.
“Okay,” you said more to yourself than to him and then turned the pressure back up, rinsing the chemicals from his hair.
While you were concentrating, making sure that you were not missing any bits of bleach, you failed to properly realize that he had yellowish-blond roots now. It was only once you were done and he had gotten back up and dried his hair a little with a towel (littered in stains from past dyeing adventures) that you noticed.
You were staring at him, trying to keep your laughter inside and threatening to fail any second now. “What?” Eijirou asked you, stilling in his movements and dropping the towel to his shoulders.
“You look like a parrot,” you giggled, rushing to pull off the rubber gloves so you could reach into your pocket and pull out your camera phone.
You jumped into the spot next to him, standing on your toes and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Smile!” you requested, angling the front camera to focus on the both of you. And because it was what he was best at, of course, he smiled.
Letting go of him, you looked at the picture on the screen. For an unprepared, one-off shot, it was surprisingly nice. The angle was a little off, but both Eijirou and you looked… genuinely happy. A notion that reminded you of the truth it held. You were spending time with your favorite person. Of course you were happy. And it made you happier that he was happy, too.
Looking over your shoulder at the photo, he did not disapprove. “If you promise not to show it to anybody ever, I won’t make you delete it,” he joked.
“No one’s ever gonna see,” you agreed readily with a smile, knowing full well that he never would have made you delete it anyways. Putting your phone down on the edge of the sink, you continued, “So. Onwards?”
“Onwards!” he echoed, pushing a new pair of rubber gloves, a dye brush and a cylindrical container of burgundy liquid in your hands.
This part turned out to be a lot more fun. Covering the blondness with red, strand for strand, felt a little like you were working on a three-dimensional, human coloring book. (If so, he was probably the greatest zen-style adult coloring book out there, you thought to yourself.)
“You sure this color isn’t too dark?” you questioned once you were done, carefully setting down the equipment and reaching for the cotton balls and nail polish remover.
( ”…to remove the excess dye from my skin and anywhere in the bathroom!”
“I was wondering why you had a bright pink bottle of nail polish remover in your bathroom. It’s not very… manly.”
“Anything can be manly! Depending on what you use it for!”
“If you say it loud enough, it becomes true!” )
He reassured you as if it were a second nature to him. “Oh, don’t worry, it always turns out lighter than the dye itself.”
You began at the back of his neck, making sure there were no grave color stains outside his hairline. Then, you moved around him bit by bit. While you were taking care of his forehead, you were not making any eye contact. This whole situation was weirdly intimate. You wondered whether that thought had crossed his mind at some point, as well.
It turned out you need not have been worried about him watching you at all. Once you were finished, you found him with your phone in his hands, sending the photo you had taken earlier to himself.
You expected him to put your phone back down then, but he hesitated for a few moments, simply looking at the picture. You watched him all the while. At first, his face said nothing, but then, you swore there was something in his eyes that had not been there before.
“The first picture of just the two of us, and I look stupid as hell.”
Your heart skipped a beat, because first implied future, and that implied that he wanted there to be pictures of just the two of you.
Swallowing your excitement, you tried your hardest to sound like your most normal of selves. “We can take more whenever we want, you know.”
“Let’s.”
And that was exactly what you did – or what he did, not too long after this conversation.
Later, once the red dye, too, had been rinsed from his hair, he had begun to blow-dry it, excited to look like himself again as soon as possible. You were standing next to him still, admiring your own handiwork. Not bad at all for a first-timer, you decided, as he unplugged the machine, resting it in the sink to let it cool down.
You had thought he was handsome before, but, as you had stupidly predicted, something had changed throughout the ordeal. You felt closer to him, and he looked different to you, taller and older somehow.
While you were following that train of thought to its source, Eijirou made use of your apparent distraction. Before you knew what was happening, he had reached for your wrist and pulled you into his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder and holding his phone in front of the both of you, front camera activated.
“Smile!” he echoed your earlier request. And while it was not what you were best at, of course, for him, you did.
I have a question will you also make a spin off of Eijirou’s reader story? :) lol I’m asking because I’m a big fan and plus in the 3rd chapter sparked something.
That’s an idea I hadn’t even considered yet! Though now I find myself considering it... If I can come up with a good plot, maybe - why not? Either way though, I am absolutely planning on writing for Eijirou in general. I love the boy. (The last few manga chapters have wrecked me.)
Thank you so much for the feedback and the suggestion - I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. ♥
When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
-
Word Count: 3027
When you first woke up, it was still dark outside. You could not have been asleep for very long, you thought.
Katsuki was lying on his stomach next to you, an arm thrown lazily over you; he was not holding you close or actually embracing you, but you appreciated it nonetheless. So much, in fact, that you decided to remain here just a little while longer. You watched him for some time. The side of his face was pressed into the pillow, mouth open, breath audible, though quietly. Even this position was not able to make him look any less dashing than he did any other time. God, he was gorgeous.
On your second time waking, sunrays had begun to invade the room. Katsuki now had his back turned to you, which was just as well, you supposed. This way, you would not have to untangle yourself in order to leave.
You slowed your breathing to a halt. (You did not require oxygen to function. A quirk that sounded cool in theory, but proved largely useless in practice.) If there was one thing you were good at, it was being sneaky if you wanted to be. Tiptoeing toward the desk underneath which your discarded clothes lay in a heap, you grabbed a random, wrinkled piece of paper and a pen.
X1X-X70X-XX55
text me if you like
wouldn’t want to lose sight of you again xx
You left the note on the table, assuming he would find it as soon as he went to pick up his own clothes from last night. Then you got dressed very quietly (foregoing your ripped tights – the pattern they had been ripped apart in was a little too telling for your taste) and threw another look at him over your shoulder. That was when you noticed the dark red lines you had left on his upper back. You liked the idea of him still being reminded of you for a few days this way. You pressed down the door handle and left.
You had only just opened the front door when you heard slight noises from what you had deemed the kitchen last night. Turning towards the sound, you found yourself face to face with the redhead who had interrupted Katsuki and you that fateful first night. His hair was down rather than gelled up this time around.
“Your hair looks nice like that,” you both realized and told him at once. He was grinning at you (those were some pointy teeth!), apparently torn between embarrassment at knowing what you had been doing last night and excitement at having yet something else to tease his roommate with.
“Thanks,” he accepted your compliment good-naturedly. “I was wondering whether we’d see you again.” It was not clear to you whether his weincluded Katsuki, their third roommate or both of them.
You laughed, incapable of feeling embarrassed at his knowledge about what had transpired. “So was I.”
“Can I offer you some coffee or are you trying to flee the scene?”
“If you’re asking whether I’m committing a hit-and-run, no, I’m not. I even left my number and everything!” You considered his offer of a hot beverage for a moment, but knew you had to decline so you would be home in time to take your morning medication. “Think I’ll take a rain check on the coffee, though. I really miss my bed.” He did not need to know about your primordial reason.
“I see. See you around then?” His one-sided grin let you know that he was intentionally quoting what you had said the first time you had met.
“See you around,” you nodded and exited through the door that you had still been holding open this entire time. You hoped that it would prove true.
When Katsuki finally made his way out of his room a good while later, he was surprised to be met by both of his roommates in the kitchen. Eijirou was not as much of a surprise – in order to conform to his ideal of fitness, he often got up very early to train. Denki, on the other hand, was usually a late sleeper. It only reminded Katsuki of how uncharacteristically late he had slept this morning. To be fair, you had worn him out. (Though not as thoroughly as he had worn you out, he thought to himself boastfully.)
Their knowing smiles told him everything, and he did not quite know whether to feel proud or annoyed. Both, maybe.
“Have fun last night?” Eijirou was cutting right to the chase, apparently.
“Shut up,” he growled in response and decided to busy himself with the coffee machine rather than to dignify the others with more of an answer. Unfortunately, this way, Eijirou and Denki were able to get a good look at his back.
“Sure looks like she did,” Denki commented.
It took Katsuki a moment to realize what he was getting at, but once he did, he grumbled. “At least one of us can get laid. Not like you fuckers would know anything about that.”
Eijirou and Denki did not take his bait. Instead, Eijirou kept on talking about you. “You know, I met her this morning while she was leaving. I think she’s older than us.”
“No fucking idea.” Katsuki shrugged. “She’s hot as hell and doesn’t get on my nerves, which is more than can be said about you two assholes.”
He took his coffee back to his room, not in the mood for more of a conversation. Sitting at his desk (where the discarded remainder of your tights still lay on the floor), he read through your note to him once more.
When he had woken up alone, he had felt strange for a moment. Not strongly so – only in the way that it felt strange to be met with unexpected circumstances. If he had been hoping for you to still be there in the morning, he was not willing to admit it to himself. At any rate, it did not matter whether your wordless disappearance would have made him feel anything – since it had turned out not to have been wordless after all.
His roommates’ reminder about the marks you had left on him had given him an idea.
You had been home for about an hour and a half by the time you received his text. Seeing an unknown number on your phone’s display had immediately sown an inkling of hope in you, and you were pleasantly surprised to see it really was Katsuki who had sent you a message.
The image took a moment to load. When it had, you laughed to yourself quietly. It was a photo of his back, covered in angry red stripes, some of them more parallel than others. The awkward angle it was taken from suggested he had taken it himself. How sweet.
Its caption read, ‘Thank you for these.’
So, that’s why he had got in contact with you so unexpectedly early. Obviously, the fresh scratches made for a better picture. Well, you were able to contend with that.
You reached for the waistband of your leggings and pulled it down on one side, holding it in place like that with one hand and pulling your top up a little with the other. Then, you took a photo of your midsection with your phone. Looking at it and deciding it was flattering enough, you began to type a caption for the visible blue bruises on your hips.
‘You certainly returned the favor quite well.’
You hit ‘send’ and then rolled onto your side, giggling like a damn school girl. No matter how sedated the aripiprazole made you feel, today, you were not going to be able to go back to sleep, too activated by the things that had happened last night and this morning.
I’m bored.
And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?
Well, you could be fucking me, for instance.
I’m at home. You know where that is.
A couple of weeks later, the spell had not yet worn off. The raw intensity of the attraction you felt to him never wavered, but rather only changed shapes, twisting and turning into something new every time you were with him, every time he was inside you.
Somehow, you had become a regular at the three guys’ place – and though you were very obviously Katsuki’s guest and his guest only, you got on surprisingly well with both Eijirou and Denki. It was not a rarity to see you in the kitchen on a weekend morning, stocking up on caffeine and making small talk while Katsuki was grumbling into his coffee about how annoying all three of you were.
But he never threw you out. A favor you repaid by never overstaying your welcome, instead opting to leave on your own terms and eventually come back after a few days – also on your own terms.
“She really said that?” you questioned in disbelief at a story Eijirou had been telling about a girl he, himself, had met while partying. While waiting for his reply, you took the now-empty pot to the sink and filled it with water, preparing to make another few units of coffee.
“Yeah, can you believe it?!” Eijirou replied enthusiastically, gesturing with his hands. You found him adorable.
You were just about to say something more when you slipped up while refilling the coffee maker and spilled the water all over the counter and floor.
“Shit,” you sighed in frustration, moving immediately to get a rag with which to clean up the mess you had just made.
That was the exact moment in time that Katsuki, who had thus far endured the conversation rather quietly, chose to contribute a few choice words. “Fucking pay attention to what you’re doing, will you, you idiot?”
It did not even bother you anymore when he spoke to you like this. You knew it was simply who he was.
Looking over your shoulder from your position on the floor, where you were wiping up the water you had spilled, you warned, “Careful. Keep talking to me like that, I might actually fall in love with you.”
You waited for a beat to let the joke have proper impact before you laughed out loud, inviting everyone else to join you.
You had always been supremely bad at anticipating the future.
“Oh fuck.” You inhaled through your mouth, teeth pressed together.
Katsuki’s tongue was working wonders between your thighs. You had your legs resting on either of his shoulders, the muscles in your calves contracting and relaxing on their own accord. The surface of the kitchen counter you were sitting on was cold and uncomfortable, but you liked the idea of him ravishing you in a place where other people would be appalled to find you.
“You really enjoy having sex in any place that isn’t your bed, don’t you?” you asked, running your fingers through his stupidly spiky blond hair fondly.
He pulled back for a moment. “And you fucking don’t?”
Your affirmative answer unwittingly became another loud sigh when he pulled your clit into his mouth. The combination of his sucking and the relentless teasing of his tongue against your most sensitive nerve endings was hurling you closer to the edge fast.
You attempted to keep up the conversation to delay your own peak. While nothing compared to the all-encompassing pleasure of the orgasms he provided you, you had always loved that moment just before you came, that most promising of plateaus.
“There’s so many places left for us to try. One of those alleyways between here and the club. Your roommates’ beds.” Your own voice sounded hollow to you now as pleasure threatened to take over your mind. “The hood of a car. I don’t have a car. But any car will do.”
His large hand squeezed your thigh in approval. Then, you came.
Afterwards, he kissed you, open-mouthed and deep, letting you taste all of yourself on his tongue. The force behind his movement almost pushed you against the kitchen cupboard behind you – had there not been his hand at the back of your head, making sure you did not hurt yourself.
When he came inside your mouth, you were not as surprised by the sheer amount of fluid his body expelled as you had been the first time.
Everything about him was an exaggeration. His stamina, his ability to stay hard after one orgasm, the intensity with which he came. In less sexual terms, the thought applied, as well. He was needlessly loud and dirty-mouthed, needlessly intriguing and attractive. Perhaps the worst thing about all of this was that he knew. Or maybe that was not so bad at all – the fact that he never pretended to be anything but exactly what he was made him incredibly authentic. You never had to second-guess anything he said or did, never had to worry about a hidden meaning behind any of it.
You swallowed the liquid, bitter salt.
“You give fucking amazing head, [Name],” he complimented a little while later, while you were lounging around in a post-sex haze. He was lying on his back, sprawled across the bed like the king of the world. You were lying next to him on your side, head on his midsection, breathing in his skin. Your legs were angled just enough so your feet were not hanging off the side of his bed.
“So I’ve been told,” you laughed, nuzzling the bare skin of his stomach. You loved his natural scent, whether he had just been sweating or not. The way his abs were readily apparent under the surface was only one of many facets of his physical perfection.
He laughed along with you. You appreciated that he did not mind your implication of previous sexual partners in the slightest. Then again, you supposed it would have been more than inappropriate for him to take issue with the idea of you having had some (or many) sexual encounters before him, especially given the nature of your current arrangement.
“Seriously, though. How the hell do you hold your breath for that long?” He did not lose a single word along the lines of being worried about your wellbeing, but the implication was there.
“Right, I guess I’ve never told you. Well, it never came up. That’s my quirk. I don’t actually need to breathe.”
Next thing you knew, there was his hand directly below your nose, registering the streams of carbon dioxide you were exhaling. “…the fuck?”
“I mean, I do breathe. But it doesn’t really do anything for me. It didn’t manifest until I was about three years old or so, so my body developed normally until then. My brain stem does its thing, and I inhale and exhale without actively controlling it. But if I concentrate and stop breathing, I can go for hours. That’s actually how my parents figured it out. They were scared I’d drowned in the bathtub, but I just really enjoyed being underwater.”
“I’ve never met anyone with a quirk like that,” he replied, voice even enough to imply disinterest in anyone that was not him. You did not linger on the thought of how well you knew how to read him already.
“I don’t think it’s really common, but even if it were, it’s not like you’d hear a lot about it. It’s kinda cool in theory and all, but it’s not like you can do a lot of cool things with it or anything. As a kid, I wanted to be a hero when I grew up. But then I realized that my quirk is pretty useless in the people-saving and crime-fighting regard. So, I gave up on that pipe dream rather quickly.”
He did not answer verbally. Instead, he just gave a noise that was parts agreement and parts something more. The something more interested you.
“Don’t tell me you wanted to be a hero when you were a kid, too?” you asked, intrigued.
“I am a fucking hero,” he emphasized, the pride noticeably swelling in his body underneath you. “I’m in the top ten, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t know that?”
Apparently, he was famous. You could not help but giggle at the absurdity of it all, a little embarrassed. The one time you fucked someone famous – and you had not even realized.
“Don’t be offended,” you requested softly, pressing a kiss to his stomach. “I don’t really keep up with hero news. Or news at all, for that matter.”
You hoped it did not make you sound as stupid as you feared it would. The truth was that most days, you simply did not have the expendable mental energy to face what was going on in the world. You found it hard to concentrate even on the things you did enjoy – it was downright impossible when it came to things you found arduous, like reading about and accepting the current state of the world.
“I’m not. It’s kinda fucked up, but somehow, I prefer knowing that you didn’t just wanna fuck me because you’ve seen me on tv.” He was smirking, obviously enjoying the power that this newfound knowledge afforded him.
“I don’t even own a tv. I just wanted to fuck you cause I thought you were hot.” You shot him a wide smile, not an ounce of embarrassment left in you now. “And I still do, by the way.”
“When I saw you on that dancefloor, I thought you were the most fuckable woman I’ve ever seen.”
You laughed gleefully at his compliment, glad that the conversation had taken this turn after all.
Feeling that you had already shared too much of yourself, you welcomed the chance to focus the conversation on him instead. He knew about your quirk now, and that was fine. He still did not know your last name. Your age. Where you lived. He did not know about your darkness.
You preferred it this way.
“So,” you started, moving so you were lying next to him, using his bicep as a pillow and facing him. “Tell me about your quirk.”
When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you’ve had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
-
Word Count: 4354
In the following weeks, you were surprised to find your thoughts returning to the boy you had kissed time and time again. Whenever they went there, they lingered – you wondered whether you were ever going to see him again, and if so, if he were going to make things awkward. (Because you certainly were not going to. You had had a taste and now you wanted more.)
Also, retrospectively, you had realized something. It was his youth that had clued you in. He had been dominant and good at it – but he had also been shy. He had always shied away from making the even bigger move. He had kept you trapped against the wall under his sway, but he had not taken you back home with him. He had pulled you outside, but he had not pulled you into his lap. Always one step short of what you had wanted him to do.
But what good did it do now to mull it over? It had been three weeks and while you had been back, he had not been. It was unlikely you were ever going to see him again.
That was what you told yourself while getting ready for yet another night out. (You had never claimed to have good habits.) You strategically chose to wear mostly black because if you knew your friends at all, they were probably going to bring UV-sensitive body paint to the party and you were not going to get away without getting some of it on you somewhere. So, for contrast, a black top, a black skirt and fishnet tights were going to have to do. You hoped that the latter would make it back home in one piece.
As soon as you arrived at the club, a tangible calmness washed over you despite the noise and the throngs of people. This was your element; you knew your way around here.
One drink turned into three and soon, you let yourself get swept up in the music once more.
You had been dancing with abandon for the duration of more songs than you could count when a hand reached for your shoulder from behind. The touch tore you from your music-induced trance – of course, people would sometimes touch you by pure chance while dancing, but seldom did anyone dare reach for you as clearly intentionally as this time. You quickly turned around and were met with an explosive grin spread across a face you had not been expecting to see again.
On the inside, you were elated to see him, but of course he did not and would not ever know that.
If his facial expression was any indication, you need not have been worried about any awkwardness between the two of you. For a moment, you were tempted to hug him. A strange gesture it would have been, considering you were strangers still. Strangers that had exchanged both breath and saliva, yet strangers nonetheless.
“Bakugou?” you asked instead, returning his grin with equal ferocity. He could not hear you over the loud music, but appeared to recognize his name on your lips. He mouthed something in reply that seemed close enough to your name for your taste.
A sign from the universe that you were going to get what you had begun wanting the minute you had met him.
Taking that sign and running with it, a little while later, you were pulling him behind you towards the contained outside area of the club, not unlike he had done to you the first time around. Together, you sat down in a different spot than last time, leaving little to no space between your legs. It was surprising how naturally the physical closeness came with him. He seemed to know he was attractive, even if he had not been quite as daring as you would have liked him to be the last time.
You pulled up one leg onto the sofa, resting your chin on your knee and turning towards him slightly. “Didn’t think we’d meet again,” you said.
“Would’ve been a damn shame,” he responded in a voice that did not sound unlike a growl. You did not gather any hostility from him, however. Maybe it was just the way he always sounded.
“Agreed. Did you get a lot of shit from your roommates?” You smirked to let him know you were teasing him, but it was all in good fun.
“You fucking bet,” he groaned, apparently still annoyed with them for it. “Shitheads couldn’t let me have one fucking good thing.”
Oh, and he did not even realize what a great opportunity he had just given you. “And believe me, it would have been very good.”
The innuendo was not lost on him. “You—“ He trailed off, unable to think of a witty response.
“I see, so this is what it takes to get you to speak a single sentence without a swear word in it.” You giggled, leaning it and pressing a kiss to his cheek, perhaps a little close to the corner of his mouth.
If only the lighting had been any better, if only you had not been casting a shadow on him in this position, you might have noticed the red shimmer dusting his cheeks right then.
“You got a problem with it?” Not a swear word in sight, though he had obviously had to concentrate for it to be that way.
“None whatsoever,” you reassured him before leaning in close enough to whisper into his ear. “You know, I would have gone home with you if you had asked me to.” You wanted to tell him that you had noticed his hesitation three weeks earlier, but decided not to embarrass him like that. There were still options open for where the story of you and him might lead, and you were excited to explore them.
You were just about to pull back when he turned his head and captured your mouth with his. The kiss was messy, but, just like the first time around, you were ready to whimper into his mouth because of how right it felt. He might have been the best kisser you had ever encountered. Just when this thought had formed, he broke away, leaving only millimeters between your lips and his. “And if I asked you now?” Any remainder of shyness you had gathered about him before – gone as though it had never existed.
“I’m begging you to.” You smirked, the confidence in your voice contrasting your choice of words.
“I’d fucking love to see you beg,” he grinned wickedly, reaching for the back of your head and pulling you in for another open-mouthed kiss before pulling you back by your hair – not harshly enough to cause you pain, but just enough to show you he enjoyed being in control. A tingle spread through your body at the notion.
Then, he let go of you before standing upright. For just a moment, you took in the sight of him in the warm light of the candles and torches surrounding you. He was tall, handsome, dangerous, exciting. You vowed to save this image and store it in your memory for your future self to recall. Then, you took the hand he offered you and let him pull you up and whisk you away and out of the club.
Though he lived only four streets away – as you would soon enough find out –, there were no less than three instances of him either pushing you against a wall in a response to your endless teasing, both verbal and physical, or you pulling him into some dark alleyway, wordlessly asking him to cage you with his body.
When you had finally made it to the apartment he shared with the other two (to you, yet nameless) guys, you stopped for a moment to look around as he closed the door behind you.
A narrow hallway gave way to five doorways, one of them lacking a door – quite obviously the way inside the kitchen. You wondered which of the others Bakugou was going to lead you through.
It ended up being the second-to-last. You usually had a keen eye for detail, but that was one of your last collected thoughts before he was to consume you whole.
When he walked you backwards into his room, he flipped a light switch that did not turn on a central lamp on the ceiling, but rather several smaller lights on different surfaces throughout the chamber. Romantic lighting for a romantic occasion such as this, you supposed.
Soon, your ass met the front of his desk. He had you trapped once again. You let your head fall back and did not hold back your moans of pleasure when he began to ravage your neck and chest. He pulled at the already low-cut neckline of your top to reveal more skin for him to leave his mark on, heat persisting in every place he had touched. He grabbed the backs of your thighs and lifted you onto the desk, pressing his groin against yours just in case you yet had any questions about where this was going. You whined his name in reply. “Just fuck me already, you bastard. I’ve been fantasizing about you for three whole weeks now.”
“You’re one fucking eager slut,” he growled into the swell of your breast, and you felt yourself getting wetter with every syllable he spoke.
You reached down with one hand to cup the hard bulge in his pants none too gently. “Tell me about eager, big boy.” He returned your grin while you reached down and shoved your hands under his black top that made him look so scandalously fuckable and shoving it upwards. He lifted his arms to allow you to take it off before doing the same to your own top, leaving you in your simple, black balconette bra.
“With the rest of your outfit, I was expecting something that showed your tits off more.” You knew he was only trying to rile you up. What a nuisance. A supremely handsome, delightfully bad-mouthed nuisance.
“Well, if I’d known you’d be fucking me tonight, I would’ve worn something pretty and lacey and horribly impractical. As it stands, I wanted to dance, and dancing requires a certain amount of support. You could always just get me out of it if it offends you so,” you urged him on, arching your back and thrusting your breasts against his chest.
He took a step back from you, reaching for your hips and pulling on them until you were standing once more. Then, he turned you around, your pelvis meeting the wood, his erection pressed against your backside. You were expected him to undo your bra from this angle, but he did no such thing. Instead, he shoved your tight, elastic skirt up so it gathered around your hips, the tips of several fingers pressing against your center through your tights and panties. You fell forward, catching yourself on both hands, panting in arousal already. “Get to it,” you commanded.
Your answer came in the form of the sound of a belt being opened. You heard fabric hitting the floor. “That’s not quite begging, but I’ll take it,” he stated. Then, his fingers found purchase in the holes of your fishnet tights and he pulled into opposite directions, effectively ripping them open front to back across your crotch.
You gasped in surprise, your head whipping around to look at him over your shoulder. “You could’ve at least asked, asshole!” He sneered at you, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. “Maybe I really liked those tights. Maybe they were expensive. Maybe—“
He cut you off by pushing his tongue into your mouth, licking yours demandingly and effectively swallowing all of your protests. When he let you breathe once more, you had forgotten where you had been going with your sentence. You heard a crinkling sound, something synthetic perhaps, and you had a good idea what he was doing. “Quit complaining. I’ll make it worth it,” he promised.
It was not his fault you had been too preoccupied to watch his hands and what they had been doing. The next instant, he had hooked a finger under the crotch of your panties, pulled them to the side and plunged his cock inside you to the hilt.
“Oh my fucking God,” you cried out, fingers grappling across his desk’s surface for purchase and finding none as he set a punishing pace, fucking you relentlessly. You had not had a proper look at him earlier, but now resolved to do so later. He felt huge, at any rate, but you could not be sure whether it was his actual size or simply the way he knew to use it.
Here you were, still wearing your bra and skirt, still wearing your boots for heaven’s sake, letting this blond animal of a boy fuck you into oblivion.
He reached around you, pulling at your bra until the straps fell down your shoulders, and then tore at the fabric until the band was close to your waist, revealing your breasts for him to palm and squeeze at his leisure.
Your hips were being driven against the wooden tabletop with every thrust he took, the pain overshadowed by the bliss of being filled so completely, over and over. He was rolling your rock-hard nipples between his fingers, toying with you.
“You’re so fucking tight. You fit me like a glove,” he grumbled into the nape of your neck before biting down on the flesh there. Your insides constricted at this information, drawing further animalistic noises from him that got lost in your skin between his teeth.
You could no longer think straight, differently intoned variations of his name and curses loosely strung together falling from your lips. He absorbed them gratefully, his lovely, deep voice echoing your own name as he never slowed down for even one second.
And then, a growl that resonated as less human than it was basal and bestial. He kept on driving himself inside you throughout his orgasm, fingers desisting from their movements on your breasts. Eventually, he stilled. His hands fell to your stomach, sweaty palms sizzling against your skin. The sensation was not unlike that of carbonated candy you remembered loving as a child, only not on your tongue. The unbefittingness of such a memory in a moment like this gave you pause.
Most of his body weight was pushing on you now as he rested his forehead between your shoulder blades, hair tickling you when he nuzzled your skin. It was an unexpectedly tender action in the midst of everything else.
You let him have this short moment to regather himself. Mind you, you had not failed to notice that only one of you had come thus far.
After a minute or three, he lifted himself off your body, pulling out of you in the process. He helped you turn around to face him. You sat up on the desk just barely, lest your fluids leave a stain. You readily met him for another kiss, staking a claim to dominance this time when you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He let you. When you separated again, you noted that he did not look quite as destroyed as you had expected him to. A tragedy. You so loved seeing proof of the power you had over men, after all.
“Don’t you think for a fucking instant that I’m done with you,” he panted, pulling off the used condom and tying a knot into the rubber sleeve before disposing of it in a bin that was conveniently situated under his desk. It seemed you might not be left high and dry after all.
You unabashedly stared at his cock then, trying to reconcile the sight of it with the fact that it had just been inside you. It was lovely. Its size was only emphasized by the comparison with his slender hips, the foreskin glistening with a telltale reminder of events just past.
You were no more proper than him at this point, arousal having leaking onto the insides of your thighs and stained the mesh of your fishnet tights. He spread one large hand on the inside of your leg, thumb gathering some amount of the evident wetness. “Just needed to get the edge off first, that’s all,” he continued.
You laughed benignly. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fantasizing about little old me, as well.”
“Only every time I got myself off,” he confessed, too caught up in the afterglow of his orgasm to be embarrassed. You appreciated the straightforwardness of his words. He leaned down to unzip your boots and pull them off of you, getting to work on your skirt, tights and panties next. While he was doing so, you unclasped your bra that honestly had not been doing much to support your breasts at this point either way. Soon, you were as naked as he was. All the while, it was not lost on you that his erection was exactly as present as it had been the whole time. Oh, the miraculous stamina of youth.
“Is now an appropriate time to ask your first name?” you questioned as he rose.
“Katsuki.”
“Thank you.” You smiled at him widely. “Do I also get to know how old you are?”
He took a step so he was between your thighs, skin to skin once more. “I’m nineteen,” he said and hoisted you up by your thighs, only barely giving you the chance to wrap your arms around his neck for support. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. This show of strength and dominance reminded you that you were but putty in his hands.
“Shit, now you’re just showing off.” You loosened one arm from around him to run your hand over his tense bicep. He snickered then, equal parts pride (or was it cockiness?) and amusement. “Well, you certainly fuck like a nineteen-year-old.” A fucking teenager. What you had said had been more praise than insult, but it did not matter to you much how he was going to take it. Either path promised countless possibilities for what was to come next.
“You haven’t seen the fucking start of it.” With that, he dropped you onto his bed, climbing on top of you immediately. His frame dwarfed you and you absolutely loved it. He held his body up on one well-defined arm as he rolled another condom onto himself. You could not remember ever having been with a man who needed this little time to recharge. Your insides contracted at the idea of what might yet be in store for you.
Without further ado, he pushed himself inside you once more, entry aided by the ridiculous amounts of lubrication your body had provided. You would have been perfectly happy to lie underneath him all the while, letting him wreak havoc on your body in all the ways he pleased. Instead, he turned over rather unexpectedly, keeping himself sheathed inside you as you knelt over him suddenly.
Another picture that you swore to keep as a mental memento: the look of him underneath you, ready and willing to let you have your way with him.
“I want to see your tits bouncing while you fuck yourself on my cock,” he requested. Such a dirty mouth he had on him.
“So obscene,” you teased, resting your palms on his torso for support as you followed his order. “You shall get exactly what you asked for.”
He reached further inside you in this position, each time your body swallowed him seeming to go deeper still. He held onto your pelvis tightly with one hand, the other splayed across your pubic mound, thumb finding your clit and rubbing insistent circles into the swollen organ.
Controlling the movements of your hips with his tight grasp, he helped you towards a faster pace. Still, it seemed to not be enough for his liking. Soon, he chose to sit up instead, keeping you straddling his lap and meeting each of your downward motions with an upward thrust of his own.
You wrapped your arms around his back, having to hold onto something, anything. Your nails were digging into his skin now, over planes of skin and ropes of taut muscle, your mind too gone to control the force behind your scratching. He was so unbelievably deep inside you, your clit pounding in time with your heartbeat while he did not allow you a single second of respite from the intense pleasure.
His first name was the only word you knew to pronounce then, first in a whisper, then in a sigh, and finally in an ear-deafening scream as you came around him, trying and failing to commit to memory exactly how far inside you he had been when you fell over the edge. He let off your clitoris for the moment, pushing in and out of you just as deeply, only slower now to prolong your orgasm.
After either seconds, minutes, or hours (time seemed to work differently on the plane of existence your peak had abandoned you on), you felt confident enough to move without your limbs giving out. You let yourself fall onto your side next to him, immediately missing the fullness of having him inside you. Perhaps you would never feel quite whole again without him inside you.
It was only then that you noticed noises from outside the room. The sounds of steps and hushed voices seemed foreign to your ears, like they had no right to exist at all in this little world the two of you had created for yourselves.
“I’m sorry to report,” you had to pause to swallow, your voice not wanting to work as it normally did, “but I think your roommates might have heard us.”
He smirked at you from his position beside you on the bed before reaching out and smoothing your hair that had got caught in the sweat on your forehead from your face. He kept running his fingers through your hair until all of it was neatly falling over one of your shoulders. Then, he rested his hand on the exposed side of your neck, thumb running along the edge of your jaw. “They might have heard you, you mean.”
You did not know what to reply to that, so you kept still, enjoying the way he was petting you.
“Fucking let them hear,” he finished his thought. “I want everyone to know how good you feel getting fucked by me.”
You did not know him well – did not know him at all, to be truthful. But even so, you could have sworn that being turned on by this kind of thing was exactly like him.
Reaching up with one hand, you ran your thumb across his full bottom lip, revealing some of his white teeth as you gently pulled at the sensory organ. “I feel absolutely fantastic getting fucked by you.”
“I’m holding you to that.” With that, he had risen again, a seemingly endless supply of endurance at his disposal. He knelt behind you, hands urging you to lift yourself onto your knees.
You did as he wanted you to, not quite sure whether you had another round in you. Your arms were shaky as you placed your weight on them, arching your back to give him easier access. “You’re a fucking animal, Katsuki,” you assured him while he lined his erection up with your entrance for a third time.
He laughed and bored into you again, his entire body covering yours as he embraced you from behind, his chest pleasantly hot against your back. “Don’t pretend you’re not loving it,” he taunted, the tips of his fingers pulling at both your tight nipples in turns. He was right, of course. Your cunt was like a vice on him, the aftermath of your orgasm.
“Just can’t promise I’ll be able to come again,” you warned, voice more pant than speech at this point. His heat, both inside and on top of you, threatened to eat you alive.
“I appreciate the challenge.” He was so obviously much more collected than you, ready to go on for hours if need be.
And while it took a long while, he was meticulous in his work towards greatness. At times concentrating on your nipples, at times licking his fingers to make their path around your clit smoother. All the while, reassuring and taunting you with both filthy praises and almost-too-honest reminders of how you were at his mercy.
And then, eventually, your arms finally gave out underneath you as you fell over the edge for a second time, taking him with you. You could not later have recounted whether the blackness of your sight came from your face being buried in his sheets or from an actual, momentary loss of sensory perception.
When you came back to, you were laughing and not quite sure whether you had only just started or had been doing so the entire time. Your reality was pulled back into its hinges only when Katsuki spoke again.
“Told you, you hadn’t seen the fucking start of it.”
“I really hadn’t,” you agreed willingly, a borderline insane smile still pulling at your features as you turned your head to the side so your voice would no longer be muffled by his mattress. “Apparently I am capable of multiple orgasms. That’s a first.”
You met his ember eyes. The pride and satisfaction in his gaze was unmistakable. He came to lie next to you, draping an arm across your lower back that you would have deemed possessive for lack of a better term. Still lying on your front, you lifted one shaky hand to run it through his sweat-soaked, beautiful, awfully spiky, perfectly lovable hair.
“Please tell me this does not have to be the last time we ever do this,” you requested, selfish as always.
His grasp on your hip tightened for a moment before he replied, “It doesn’t.”
When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you've had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.
-
Word Count: 1946
The beat bled into you, consuming, ravishing you. The music was loud, louder than you would have been able to stand it in any other situation, but it was exactly what you needed right in that moment. Flashing lights, darkness, whiteness, darkness again, the faces around you only visible for split seconds at a time, too short for you to really piece them together. There was a nose, straight but nothing to lose words over otherwise. Blackness. A smirk showing off white teeth. Blackness, again. Little puzzle pieces, slowly forming a complete picture in your head. Light hair that might have been either white or light blond. A clean-shaven, strong jaw. And finally: the most intense red eyes you had ever seen, pinning you in place and then pulling you in like gravity.
You had come to the club tonight with your friends, but like always, as the night had gone on, you had taken off on your own to jump into the fray and dance until you forgot your own name. You supposed that you had been doing this for too long, had started your excessive partying habit too young. Now that you were in your mid-twenties, perhaps you should have been exhausted by the never-ending late nights. But that was not the case. Like every weekend, you once again found yourself here, spending money you did not have on drinks you did not need and then dancing the night away with alternating strangers that were never able to keep up with your stamina.
Something was different about tonight. He was different. It was not a secret what the men dancing with you – or rather at you, you supposed – wanted from you. Even those few of them that actually raised your attention never managed to retain it for long. Eventually, they would always realize that they could not keep up with you and that you had little to no intention of going home with them.
But this one – he had been on the dance floor for almost as long as you had, the two of you slowly drifting closer to each other as one song faded into the next. And then it could no longer be said that you were simply dancing near each other. You were dancing with each other, and then even that was not a good description anymore when there was hardly any space left between your bodies.
The deejay threw in another heavy techno number, and you were moving your hips in small, yet unforgiving movements, and you swore his irises were becoming ever smaller with each time the short bursts of light let you see him.
You wanted to touch this attractive stranger. There was a longing pulling at your better reasoning from somewhere deep inside. It had been too long since you had had an adventure.
When you recognized the next song that came on, you decided that this could not have been mere coincidence. This must have been a sign from the universe to go ahead with your less-than-appropriate plans. Why else would you be given the chance to finally reach your arms up around his neck, making first contact, and looking deep into his fascinating eyes as you mouthed the lyrics along with the speakers?
You just need to fuck me right,
I guess I ain’t the loving kind…
Maybe you should have been blushing at the sheer vulgarity of it, but you were not. His mouth opened for a moment as if he were not sure whether you were being serious or not. Then it closed again – it was not like you would have been able to hear anything he said over the noise anyways.
You decided that you had made your move and that the ball was now in his court. In an attempt to let him know you had meant what you said, you let go of him, raised a suggestive eyebrow at him as you bit the tip of your tongue and then shrugged, turning away and leaving the dance floor.
The hallway you were headed for was darker than the main floor had been. It went off next to the bar, connecting the main room of the club to a small outside area. Although there were no actual doors separating it from the main event, the music seemed more subdued with every step you took away from it. Soon, all you were able to hear was the bass line, and to be truthful, you could feel rather than hear it.
It was colder out here as well, and it suddenly hit you how exhausted you were. What time was it? Maybe three am, four am, if you had been forced to guess. You must have been dancing for hours. Still, you were pulled taut like a rubber band on the inside and excited to see whether your ploy was going to get you company – preferably in the form of a handsome, red-eyed man.
Just when you were about to give up hope, said man appeared in the hallway, gait looking steadier than your own had felt. You had had a few drinks earlier, but you felt as if you had sweated out all of the alcohol through dancing by now.
Now was the time to say something witty, you thought. But nothing would come to mind – your brand of flirting had never been flirting at all, but rather brutal honesty, which seemed to intrigue most guys. You had been honest on the dancefloor. All you could do now was to repeat yourself, if anything.
He was standing before you now, half a head taller than you and looking positively delicious with his unruly hair (a blonde – you had been right) and expressionless face (except for his eyes, which were liquid fire).
He appeared to welcome the fact that you were standing with your back against the wall already. That way, it was not difficult for him to trap you between both of his arms as he leaned in close enough for your breaths to mingle. His breath smelled of tonic water and spices. Your mouth was watering and you had to swallow before you could speak. “I’m [Name],” you declared, deciding that the faster this exchange was over, the faster you could get on with the good part.
“Bakugou,” he growled in reply, and then he was kissing you senseless.
He tasted exactly as good as he smelled. The excitement of kissing a complete stranger clouded your mind – briefly, you wondered whether you had ever kissed anyone you had known less about than him. Not that you could recall, but then, thinking was becoming difficult as you faded into him. His tongue invaded your mouth, massaging your own with expert skill, claiming you. Your fingers found purchase in his sweat-soaked hair as you moaned into his mouth. His mouth soon left yours, giving you the freedom to whisper his name like it was the only prayer you knew while he made his way down your jaw and to your throat. Nipping and biting at your skin, sparks of arousal and slight pain sending mixed messages to your brain and leaving your head reeling. He was intense as a whole, intensely attractive and intensely eager.
When he let go of you and reached for your wrist, urging you to go along with him, you were expecting him to pull you to the exit of the club. You were ready and willing to go with him.
Instead, he pulled you into the other direction, towards the small outside area contained on four sides by the club building. It was cramped with several sets of wicker sofas and chairs that people could sit on when they wanted to have a smoke or simply get away from the commotion for a little while.
There must have been people around, but if anyone had asked you about it later, you could not have given them an estimate of how many. The entirety of your attention was focused on him. His hand was still clasping your wrist, holding onto you tightly, yet not tightly enough to cause you pain. You could not say that you minded the assertiveness.
He sat down on one of the wicker sofas, pulling you down along with him. Instead of pulling you into his lap, however, he had simply pulled you into a sitting position next to him. You decided that this could not stand. So you pulled up your feet and draped your legs across his lap, wrapping yourself around him as well as was possible in this position. He welcomed you, wrapping an arm around your back securely and meeting you halfway when you kissed him. Your arms made their way around his neck without a conscious decision to do so on your part.
You were no longer breathing air – you were breathing him, and he was more satisfying a source of energy than oxygen had ever been.
Time was no longer a useful dimension while the two of you consumed each other, at times kissing, at times leaving marks on any exposed plain of skin available. He was electric, and perfect, and everything you had not known you had needed until right then.
Eventually, however, the spell was broken when someone cleared their throat loudly behind you. The insistence in the sound made it likely that it had not been the first time this person had tried to be noticed, but rather that you simply had not heard the other time(s).
With distaste, you broke away from Bakugou. His lips were deep red and swollen from the continued attention you had given them. A good look for him. Then, you raised an eyebrow and turned around.
You found two young guys standing there, looking at lot more embarrassed by the situation at hand than either you or the guy whose lap you were draped across. One of them had surprisingly spiky red hair, while the other was a yellow-blonde.
“What the fuck do you want?” asked Bakugou, a surly frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. (His kiss-red, swollen, perfect mouth.)
“Uhm,” mumbled the redhead, grinning, yet scratching at the back of his neck bashfully. “The club’s closing soon, and we’re leaving, and since, you know, we live together…”
It was then that you decided to get a better look at Bakugou as a whole, now that you had the outside lighting fixtures available. Very attractive, indeed. But he also looked younger than you had expected. Younger than it had felt when he had had you pinned against a wall with his large, if lean frame. Definitely younger than you.
He did not seem entirely sure what to do about the situation.
You helped him then by turning so you were properly sitting on the sofa. Then, you stood up, fixing your skirt that had become rumpled due to obvious reasons. Then you made eye-contact with each of them for a short moment, lingering longer on Bakugou than on the other two. You finally nodded at him, the gesture marking the end of something.
“See you around.”
While you were walking inside and away from them, you absentmindedly reached up and ran your thumb along your lower lip. It was a little sore from the abuse. It had been a few years at least since you had last had an hours-long make-out session – you were not a teenager anymore, after all.
If things had gone your way, your story would not have ended there.
But you were not going to walk home with a guy and his roommates like a duckling following its mother. You were not that desperate.
"Because a chance like this did not come your way every day, you had known to save it for an extremely special situation. While you had not been sure what would constitute such an occasion until it had come your way, you certainly knew now. Now all you had to do was to let your boyfriend in on the secret. And what a delicate secret it was."
After winning a bet against Katsuki, you get to wish for anything that you desire. Unfortunately for him, what you desire is Izuku.
A while ago, you had made a bet with your boyfriend. Katsuki had found it so entirely unbelievable that you might, indeed, be capable of scoring better than him on last semester’s final exam even if you studied hard enough. He was nothing if not competitive. While it offended you a little that he had apparently been so sure to win the bet, the prize had been all the sweeter for it – one wish. Anything you wanted, no matter when, no matter how big, no matter why.
The exam had come and gone and you had outperformed him. Thus, you had received your free wish. Because a chance like this did not come your way every day, you had been holding onto it for weeks and months at this point. You had known to save it for an extremely special situation. While you had not been sure what would constitute such an occasion until it had come your way, you certainly knew now.
Now all you had to do was to let your boyfriend in on the secret. And what a delicate secret it was.
Katsuki was lying in his bed on top of the comforter, reading a comic book while you were sitting cross-legged next to him, pondering how exactly to bring up your suggestion to him.
“Hey,” you started eventually, causing him to lower the book, indicating that you had his attention. “Remember that bet we made a while ago?”
An eye brow, raised. “Fucking finally. Did you figure out what you want from me?” He did not seem as annoyed as his choice of words would implicate if it were any other person but him saying them. If anything, he sounded intrigued. You wondered how long that would last.
“I did.” You paused, beginning to brace yourself for a rejection despite not even having made your suggestion yet. “Remember, you said that I could wish for anything.” You emphasized the last word.
He simply growled affirmatively, urging you to get to the point.
“So, I was saving it for something that was really, really out there and that I really, really wanted. And I think it’s something that you probably really–“ Once more, a strong emphasis on the word. “– don’t want. So, it’s okay if you say no.”
“I’m not going to,” he interrupted, scowl ever-present. “You won the bet, so you get whatever fucked-up thing you want.” You wondered whether he was going to regret this posturing a few moments from now.
“It’s okay if you say no,” you repeated, undeterred. “I just want you to actually consider it for at least one moment before you say no.”
He was waiting impatiently for you to say it. You had finally reached the point where there were no more ways to procrastinate on putting it out there anymore.
“I…” You swallowed. “I wanna sleep with Izuku.”
Very suddenly, his eyes were as wide as saucers. For a moment, you were almost certain you had driven your boyfriend’s brain into a black screen of death with the mere suggestion. Just when you were about to declare it a joke – which would have been a lie, but for the sake of your relationship, you would have done it –, he finally responded.
“What. The. Fuck.” His voice was almost eerily calm compared to his usual manner of speaking. Perhaps you had unintentionally caused him to malfunction after all? You decided that now that it was already out there, you had to stand by it. It could really only get worse from here on out, so you would simply have to roll with it.
You took the forgotten comic book from his hands and dropped it onto the floor carefully. Then, you straddled him, leaning down until your breaths were mingling. “I don’t mean that I want to have an affair with him. And I don’t want to go and be alone with him and fuck him, either. I want to sleep with him, and I want you to be there, and I want you to be involved. I’m just…” Reaching for his hair, you ran your fingers through the blond strands affectionately. “Curious.” You pressed a kiss to his mouth that was still slightly open in shock and, perhaps, distaste. “You’re still the only one I love.” A reassurance, in case he needed one.
And then, he managed to shock you even more than you had shocked him, simply by saying, “Okay.”
“What, seriously?” Until this very moment, you had not even entertained the possibility that he might answer favorably.
“But I sure as shit won’t be the one to ask him. That’s on you.” You nodded fervently, afraid that he would change his mind again. “Also, when the fuck did you look at Deku of all the fucking people and think to yourself, ‘Yeah. I want that inside me.’?”
You could not help but laugh out loud at this. “You’re an idiot.” The affection in your voice was tangible and you shifted so you could lie down against his side, legs tangling with his. His arm wrapped around your shoulder. He had always been more the type show his feelings for you with actions than with words.
“Seriously, though. What the fuck gives? There’s tons of other guys in our class alone who’d probably sell their soul to get to rut you. And you want Deku of all people? The guy who’ll probably cream his pants at the sight of you in a bra?”
“That’s the secret, lover. It’s the innocence that gets me.” You looked at him with a twinkle in your eye. “I could ask you to fuck me sideways into the next century and you wouldn’t even blush.”
“True,” he mumbled, running a hand downwards from your back to your thigh and squeezing your ass lazily on the way. “But neither would you.” Also a statement of truth.
It was not lost on you that not for a single moment, either of you even considered the idea that Izuku might say no. And you were about to be proven right very soon.
---
That Sunday afternoon had been as good as any. You would never not have been anxious of propositioning Izuku. Izuku would never not have been scandalized by your proposition.
Later, it would not quite make sense to you how you had come from dropping into Izuku’s dorm room unannounced with your boyfriend in tow to straddling said boyfriend on his childhood best friend’s bed – all while the bed’s owner was watching you two. Izuku’s face was beet-red, and while he had sat down on the edge of the bed as well, he had left a noticeable safety gap between himself and the two of you.
He was too precious, really.
“Maybe it helps if you watch us at first,” you said to the intimidated boy, keeping your voice soft and steady. It was a little as if you were talking to an easily-scared animal. It was too obvious that Izuku had not yet realized that at some point between his gangly teenage days and now, he had become handsome.
He only looked at you with big eyes, neither nodding nor shaking his head. At least it was not a no, so you decided to follow up on your suggestion.
Properly settling into Katsuki’s lap, you leaned down to kiss him. Your eyes fell shut as he took control almost immediately, pushing his tongue into your mouth and shoving his hands under the comfortable tank top you had decided to wear for this occasion. His large, hot hands came to rest on either side of your ribcage, thumbs dipping under the wire of your bra.
“Wow.” You broke away and licked your lips, keeping your arms around his neck. “You’re eager.”
In response, he grabbed your pelvis and pulled you down against his groin harshly. “Let’s not pretend I’m the one here who wants to fuck Deku.”
You pressed another peck to Katsuki’s lips and began to grind yourself against him the way he had implied he wanted you to. It never took him long to get hard. He pulled your top over your head and put a hand on your breast over your bra, squeezing the soft flesh.
Remembering that you had an audience (and, in fact, said audience was the most important character of the day), you turned to look at Izuku. “He’s right, you know. This was entirely my idea.” You could not help but grin appreciatively when you noticed that his eyes were glued to your yet bra-clad chest. Reaching behind your back, you undid the clasp of the garment and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. If you had believed for even a second that his eyes could not potentially get any wider, you had been wrong. The obvious appreciation in his gaze translated into a spark that quickly found its way through your body and went straight to its goal between your legs – where Katsuki’s erection was now pushing against you through too many layers of clothing.
You pushed Katsuki’s t-shirt over his head before you climbed off him and stood up from the bed. With the efficiency of two people who had been having sex for a long time, he took the chance to take off his own pants and underwear while you untied the waistband of your sweatpants, letting them fall to the ground and stepping out of the pile of fabric.
Then you paused, turning directly towards Izuku in nothing but your black panties. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, overwhelmed by the impossibility of a nearly naked girl standing in the middle of his dorm room. It was difficult not to feel a little pride in the effect you had on him.
“Do you think I’m pretty, Izuku?” you asked sweetly, smiling and cocking your head at him.
He hesitated, open-mouthed, not quite knowing how to respond.
Katsuki – perhaps unintentionally – came to his aid. Your boyfriend was sitting on the edge of the bed in all of his naked glory and apparently entirely undeterred by that. Then again, he had nothing at all to be ashamed of – he was a gorgeous specimen after all. “Of course he fucking does. It’s probably his first time seeing tits, and your tits are pretty fucking amazing.” With that, he reached for one of your hands and pulled you towards him. Once you were standing between his knees, he let go and leaned back onto his elbows. “I think you should get to work.”
You wondered whether Katsuki was being rougher in words and action than usual because he wanted to carve out his territory in front of Izuku. It was the most likely explanation. No matter what the reason was, however, you did not mind. You trusted him to know how far he could go and how far would be too far. He had, after all, never crossed your boundaries.
Kneeling down in front of the bed, your eyes sought and found Izuku’s once more. Giving him a one-sided smirk, you whispered, “Watch me.”
Both guys’ eyes were following your every movement as your tongue made its appearance and you licked the first drop of pre-come from his cock’s head. You closed your lips around the tip and hollowed out your cheeks, the flat of your tongue pressing against its underside. Resting your hands on Katsuki’s thighs, you used him to steady yourself on your knees. Then, you started bobbing your head, swallowing a little more of his erection with each forward movement.
His hand found purchase on the back of your head, guiding your speed and movement. Soon, the head of his cock was stretching your throat as he held you down against his base for a moment, forcing you attempt to swallow around him, the sensation of your muscles trying and failing to tighten around him rushing him closer fast. He groaned out loud before letting go of your head again, letting you continue by your own rules. “She’s fucking magic at this,” he swore, his vulgar praise causing further wetness to collect between your legs.
You watched for Izuku’s reaction. He said nothing, but shifted in a place a little – the tent in his pants was becoming more and more prominent.
You increased the suction on Katsuki’s length, knowing exactly what you had to do to get him off. When you felt the vein on the underside of his cock trembling, you knew he was close. One last time, you took him into your throat as deeply as you could before pulling back and replacing your mouth with your hand. “Come for me,” you requested, catching and holding his fierce gaze as you positioned your open lips an inch or so from his tip. You knew he so enjoyed being able to see everything.
He came in four spurts, liquid salt on your tongue. Before you did anything else, you looked at Izuku again. Making sure he was watching you, you leaned your head back and swallowed, ensuring that he could see your throat bobbing as you did so.
You were unsure whether you had only imagined the noise that came from deep within him then. Even if you had, his arousal was a fact, as evidenced by his clearly visible erection.
Lifting yourself off the floor, you stretched your legs one after the other, knees popping as you did so. Then, you slowly took a few steps until you were standing in front of Izuku again.
“You’re next,” you declared. Then, you realized that in his interest, you wanted to try to be more tender than usual. “If you so wish, of course.” He was looking up at you in a mixture of amazement and fear, and you smiled at him reassuringly.
“Okay,” he eventually said, and you knew that this one word had taken all of his courage combined. Once more, the simple word okay had turned out to be the loveliest answer of them all.
“Can I undress you?” you asked, and he nodded shyly, yet determinedly. You had the feeling that he was probably not going to turn out to be the most vocal lover, but you did not mind. It suited him.
Once you had carefully rid him of his shirt and pants, you took a moment to admire his body, now in nothing but dark blue underwear. From his freckles to his lean, yet perfectly defined frame, he was all you had been imagining and more. You looking him over like this seemed to make him uncomfortable and he suddenly found the floor so much more interesting than the woman standing before him.
In the background, Katsuki was enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily watching everything. He only had eyes for you. You were hoping that he would join back in later, but for now, you had the feeling that Izuku needed your full attention.
“This is your first time, right?” you asked, hoping that your tone managed to get across that you were not mocking him.
Still, he would not look at you. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Pretty much,” you admitted, deciding to go with honesty as your best bet. “But that’s not a bad thing.” As gently as you could, you took his face in both of your hands and made him look at you. “If, at any point, you want me to slow down or stop, all you have to do is say so. I want this to be good for you,” you emphasized. One of his hands wrapped around your wrist, running up and down your lower arm. A silent gesture of thanks. It was the first time he had touched you all afternoon.
Thinking to yourself that it would probably be best if he were the last one to get naked, you cast your eyes downwards to your last piece of clothing. “Would you like to undress me?” you offered. He nodded again.
When he reached for you, his hands were trembling just the smallest bit. He moved slowly and steadily, barely touching you at all. Nonetheless, you could feel how wondrously warm his palms were and you could have sworn that the pads of his fingers were calloused from training. When your panties hit the floor, he looked up at your face again. Seeing the look in his eyes it became impossible to deny that he, too, wanted you. Your heart beat faster at the thought.
You offered a hand to him to pull him up. He accepted, and suddenly, he was half a head taller than you. You stretched onto your tiptoes in order to be able to kiss his cheek, attempting to quench some more of his nervousness this way. Whether it had worked or not, he did not protest at all when you lowered yourself to pull his underwear down.
Despite your curiosity, you tried not to stare too hard, lest he feel even more embarrassed. The short once-over you did give him revealed only favorable information. Again, you wondered how on earth it was possible for him not to know just how attractive he was.
“I suggest you lie down on your back and let me be on top,” you decided.
“Okay.” He seemed almost relieved to have an exact request for what he was to do. Perhaps he even enjoyed your guidance.
Katsuki had by now vacated his spot on the bed, making it possible for Izuku to lie down in the middle, the way you had asked him to.
Slowly, you crawled over him, straddling his hips with your knees. This was what you had been fantasizing about all this time, and you had to pause a moment to simply take it in. To take him in – handsome, naked, perfect, waiting for you. Like his face, the upper part of his chest, too, was freckled and flushed with a lovely, soft red color. His hands hovered over your thighs, unable to make himself go through with his desire to touch you. His erection was firm and beautiful, rising from his body nearly perpendicularly. If only you could have had this moment framed. Your insides constricted with want.
The mattress shifted as another weight was added. Katsuki fit himself against you from behind, chest against your back, his legs bent in the same way as your own. A sense of unadulterated calmness washed over you. It was good and right that he was here, with you, sharing this moment. He snaked an arm around your torso but said nothing. You took that as a sign to go ahead.
You had been wet enough since the very moment you had seen Izuku look at you with lust in his eyes. Taking his cock carefully in one hand, you pushed the head of his erection between your folds. It was enough to make him gasp with the newness of the sensation.
“Ready?” You mentally counted down from five to give him one last chance to change his mind.
Instead, he looked at you – into you, through you – and, with more determination than he had shown in anything so far, said, “Yes.”
You sank down on him in one fluid motion, enveloping all of him inside you. “Oh God,” he cursed, lovely green eyes fluttering shut and fingers constricting around nothing but air. He still had not dared to touch you, even now, when you were the closest two people could be.
Your velvet heat around him was mesmerizing. For a moment, he swore that the only things in existence were your body and his own. “So warm,” he thought out loud, not quite realizing that the words had left him. In none of his wildest dream could he have possibly imagined how good it would feel to be inside you.
Reaching for his hands, you considered for a moment whether to simply place them on your breasts. Then you thought better of it and instead entwined your fingers with his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. With how lithe he looked, especially in his training uniform, you sometimes forgot that Izuku was no way a small guy. It showed in how his hands dwarfed your own. Perhaps other women would have been put off by his large and raised scars, but they only drew you in even more.
Katsuki’s arm tightened around your middle possessively for a moment, as if to remind you that he was still here. It was not like you could have ever forgotten about him, especially not with the length of his – already, again – growing erection pressing between your butt cheeks.
“Izuku,” you said and gained no response. When you began to rock your body up and down slowly, the time that had stopped for him moments ago began again.
Size-wise, the two men you were trapped between were not all that different, you found. As if two keys had been forged for the same lock, Izuku, too, fit you perfectly, stretching you exactly as wide as you could stand it. Incredulous, he looked up at you, eyes catching on the sight of you fucking yourself on his body before traveling upwards, over your shaking breasts and finally to your face. His eyes met yours and you could have sworn that it was reverence you saw in them.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” His voice was strained already, subdued by the weight of the moment. You hoped, from the bottom of your heart, that it would become a memory he would later remember fondly. You knew that you certainly were going to.
Keeping one hand linked with Izuku’s, you let go of the other and instead let your fingers intertwine with those on Katsuki’s hand that was still wrapped around your middle. You needed him to know that while this moment was for Izuku’s benefit, this was about him, too, and that his turn would soon come. But first, you had another objective.
“Izuku,” you offered softly, stilling your movements. “Can I kiss you?”
It seemed to only dawn on him then that normally, people that had sex probably also kissed each other. “Of course,” he responded breathlessly yet without hesitation, as if to say that you need not even have asked. You smiled at him and he smiled back shyly. Shy, still, despite everything.
You were still smiling as you leaned down, pausing just inches from his face. There were teeth marks on his lower lip from when anxiety had made him bite down on it. Despite this, his lips appeared soft and inviting. You moved in and his eyes fell shut in anticipation, but at first, you only pressed another kiss to his heated cheek, something constraining inside you at the repeated realization how cute he was. His breath hitched, and then you swallowed it whole.
He was clearly inexperienced, but it did not detract from the kiss at all. It was hard to believe how tenderly his lips moved against yours. He whimpered when you pulled his lower lip between your own and sucked on it softly. When you pushed your tongue into his mouth, he accepted it timidly, but willingly, soon meeting it tentatively with the tip of his own. His hands moved to the sides of your face, holding onto you and caressing your skin softly, the gesture almost too loving for you to stand it. You wanted to melt into him.
“Probably his first kiss,” Katsuki asserted from behind you. Izuku broke the kiss, dropping his head in mortification. Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that Katsuki was right. Something not unlike pride sprouted inside you at the knowledge that you had been his first in more than one way.
“Well, in that case, I’m honored.” You hoped it did not come off as a taunt, because you truly meant it. Izuku was still inside you, feeling almost like a part of you if it had not been for the delicious sensation of being stretched. To remind him of the situation you were in, you lifted yourself and let your body swallow him once more, with more force this time. That got his attention.
When you moved in to kiss him again, he was better prepared than the first time. However, your movements had not been properly coordinated, and when you shuffled to be able to deepen the kiss even further, his cock slipped out of you. He thrust into air, once, twice, clearly unhappy with the situation. You reached a hand down to line him back up with your entrance, but were stopped by your boyfriend’s hand.
“Wait,” Katsuki commanded, and you – of course – obeyed, fingers still around Izuku’s length.
Already, he had buried himself inside you, fucking you from behind in that wonderfully forceful way he knew you so liked. Unable to contain a shriek, you buried your face into Izuku’s neck where his Adam’s apple vibrated with a groan at your hand tightening around him.
“So you don’t forget who fucks you best.” With that, he pulled back out, a hand tightening on your shoulder. “Go on.”
After regaining your lost senses, you did just that, once more sliding onto Izuku, wetter even than before. His grateful groan was delicious as he grasped for your waist, finally, finally daring to hold onto you properly as you moved up and down.
Katsuki, on the other hand, was rougher than normal when he reached for your face, pulling your back against his chest again. He held onto your chin with one hand and pushed two fingers into your mouth with the other. The stark contrast between the two of them left your mind reeling. Then, the fingers were gone from your mouth, now coated in saliva. You had an inkling what his plan was.
While you were no stranger to anal sex, you had never been penetrated by two men at the same time. The thought excited you, and the wet finger probing at your asshole doubly so.
You slowed your movements to a halt, allowing him to prepare you. One finger slipped inside, pumping in and out until your muscles had relaxed enough to allow for another. The second digit did not go in as easily, but Katsuki knew your body like a language he was fluent in. His fingers were so much larger than your own. When he scissored them inside you, your muscles tried to contract again, but he would not let them. You swore that the sheer abundance of fluids leaking from you onto Izuku’s cock should not be humanly possible. Wondering briefly whether Izuku could feel the fingers inside you through your walls had you shuddering in arousal at the thought.
When Katsuki removed his hand and placed the head of his length at your rear, you once more reached for Izuku’s hands. This time it was to steady yourself in the midst of all the sensations you were feeling. Katsuki slid inside you slowly and with care so as not to hurt you, inch for inch until you were filled to the brim.
“You made it,” he informed you, voice unusually calm. At the same time, he was running a hand across your shoulders and upper arms, petting you while letting you get used to the feeling. It was so like him to not be losing any especially kind words but still find a way to show you that he cared.
At some point, your breath had become erratic. You had never felt so full, and that, coupled with the realization how lucky you were right in that moment overwhelmed you enough to force a few tears into your eyes. You tried hard to blink them away. To have these two amazing men wanting to be with you like this. In that moment, you were the luckiest girl in the world.
“Fuck,” you whined, your inner muscles fluttering around them. “Move already, you two. Please?”
That, and raising your pelvis a little to give Izuku the chance to abide by your wish, was all it took.
They fucked you in tandem, Katsuki opting for a slow but deep pace. Izuku, on the other hand, had trouble sticking to any one speed or rhythm, using your body as a canvas on which to try out different things. You enjoyed not knowing which movements to expect from him – he would drive into you deepest whenever you were not expecting it, and the lack of control on your part that came with it excited you. Unable to do much else as they ravished you, you let your head fall backwards onto Katsuki’s shoulder.
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, tongue claiming you as a hand toyed with one of your breasts. When he broke away, you were panting, having forgotten to breathe for a moment there. Thinking became hard in the light of your pleasure. They surrounded you, were everywhere in and around you, were your entire world.
Izuku’s grasp on you tightened, fingers digging into your skin. “I’m –“ he started, face red with exertion and embarrassment, voice raw. “Can I –?” He seemed unable to finish his question out loud.
“Do it,” Katsuki said in your stead, knowing that you were unable to speak right then. “But you better fucking appreciate the privilege, asshole. She can’t come like this, though.”
Katsuki’s hand fell to your center, rubbing firm circles into your clit, sending you onto your way up the precipice. Then, you felt spurts bursting inside of you, Izuku’s hot come leaking into you and spilling over, and then you were coming, too. You lost your place in space and time as your bliss crested, whiteness overcoming your vision for a moment.
You fell forward, your insides convulsing as Katsuki was still driving himself into you. Izuku caught you, somehow, despite the fact that he must have been nearly as out of it as you, going by his facial impression. He held you in his arms while you were still shuddering with the aftershocks prolonged by Katsuki’s continued fucking.
Your boyfriend rested a hand on your lower back, leaning his weight on it as he sped up. When he came with a shout, he lifted his palm off your skin, supporting himself on his wrist only so he would not accidentally harm your skin. You could feel yourself burning up from the inside with his natural heat. You moaned weakly as he rode out his orgasm, thrusts slower now. Eventually, he stilled inside you, and you knew it was to keep his seed inside you for as long as possible before he would eventually have to pull out. Izuku had softened inside you by now, but you appreciated that he had not left you yet. You wanted this moment to last – just, please, a little longer.
For a long while afterwards, the three of you simply lay there in silence, your body trapped between both of theirs. You were on your side, facing Izuku, who was lying on his back. Katsuki had never been the cuddly type, but here he was, his front pressed against your back, a possessive, but comfortable arm around your front. Perhaps it was mostly about making it abundantly clear whose you were, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.
Izuku seemed more relaxed than he had all throughout these events, yet still, he seemed to be avoiding looking at you – despite the fact that your body was pressed against his side. It was endearing how he still found it in him to be embarrassed, after everything.
You draped an arm across his slightly sweaty chest, admiring how it still visibly rose and fell with every time he inhaled, even now that he was no longer out of breath. You were certain that if the situation had been different from how it was, he would have very much liked to cuddle with you; you were almost a little sad to be missing out on it. Instead, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Still, he was avoiding your eyes.
“You know, you’re allowed to look at me,” you encouraged him softly. “You were literally just inside me. I think we’re past that.”
Listening to you, he rolled onto his side, facing you. You smiled at him, wondering if you looked as destroyed as you felt. He reached out, hand hovering over your hip for a moment before he got a hold of himself and actually touched you. Then, going against all of your expectations, he actually kissed you. It was perhaps the gentlest, kindest kiss you had ever received.
You swore you felt a slight grumble in Katsuki’s chest that was still pressed against your back. He did not say anything, however, and you knew that he was holding back for your benefit. You felt your heart swelling with love for him in that moment.
Even after breaking away, Izuku remained close, simply looking at you. There it was again – that look that told you he was not entirely sure you were real at all.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” you asked, reaching up and gently running a hand through his messy, dark green hair.
“So much,” he verified, confirming your assumption and returning your smile, if a little shyer.
“I’d fucking hope you did,” Katsuki finally weighed in. “For her sake.”
A shadow fell over Izuku’s face for a moment as he remembered that this had, after all, simply been the result of a bet between Katsuki and you. Several times, he opened his mouth to say something before closing it again.
“If…” He trailed off before starting again, trying hard not to stumble over his words. “If this is a one-time thing, can I… maybe try something?”
A request, from him? The idea intrigued you. “Sure. What would you like to do?” you coaxed him.
“Can I –” He cleared his throat before finishing the rest of his question in a hurry. “– go down on you?”
You quickly turned your head to see Katsuki’s reaction. He looked annoyed as always, but gave you a curt nod while his hold on you tightened again. You promised yourself that you would make it up to him later, in all the ways he deserved.
Then, you turned back to Izuku. “If you don’t mind that you came inside me earlier?” In fact, both of their fluids had begun to leak out of you while you had been enjoying the afterglow.
His brows knitted in thought for a moment. “I… don’t,” he decided. “Should I?”
“Of course he’d be the type of guy who’s into that,” Katsuki grumbled into the back of your neck helpfully. “Her cunt tastes amazing. No accounting for your junk inside it.”
Once more, Izuku’s cheeks flushed with red color as he sat up. If you had had to guess, you would have probably said that his ideal way of losing his virginity would probably not have included your very vulgar boyfriend.
You rolled onto your back, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulling him into a quick but deep kiss. “I imagine Izuku is not as into your dirty mouth as I am, love.”
“Don’t fucking care,” he growled into your mouth before replacing the words with his tongue once more.
The mattress moved as Izuku got on his stomach between your legs. Katsuki moved, freeing your line of sight so you would be able to watch what was happening. Then, he got up off the bed, leaving Izuku and you to your own devices for a moment.
In front of your center, your green-haired short-term lover had paused. Even though he knew that you were watching him, he could not help but simply look at your body for a moment, fascinated by the reality of you. Some amount of white-ish, mostly clear fluid had leaked from where he had been inside you before. The knowledge that it was his semen running out of you, reminding him that he had been allowed to release himself inside of you… he was almost ready to faint right then and there. Before he could do so, he overcame himself and licked it up.
He received an immediate reaction in the form of your muscles contracting around the tip of his tongue. You were a little raw from being fucked so thoroughly, and thus, his touch was wonderfully intense. He repeated the motion, pushing the muscle inside of you. He wondered how it was possible for you to still be so tight after your earlier actions. Trying to get more comfortable, he snaked an arm under your thigh from below and laid his hand on your abdomen. There, he could feel the muscles under the skin tightening as he licked inside you. The taste was… strange. Not what he had been expecting. But he really did not mind it at all.
To be perfectly honest, he did not have a kink for the exact type of situation like Katsuki had implied earlier. But there had been times – when he had been alone with himself – in which he had imagined what pleasing a woman with his mouth might be like. He had simply never considered himself bold enough to actually try it. But today – this was about more than that.
He had not missed the fact that had Katsuki not been there to help you out earlier, you would not have come. Izuku had been too lost in the moment and in how amazing it had felt to be inside you to realize. And if, after today, he would never get to be with you again, he wanted to be the one to give you an orgasm, as well. Thus, he pulled back and moved onto the small organ further up, where your labia became one. He closed his lips around it and sucked.
Your response was immediate and intense. You arched your back off the bed, moving a leg to curl across his back, inviting him in further.
“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, closing your eyes and enjoying the intensity of the feeling. While you were entirely caught up in what Izuku was doing between your legs, you felt your head being lifted. Katsuki had cleaned himself off and put his underwear back on. Now, he had sat down on the bed with crossed legs and placed your head on one of his thighs, letting you use him as a pillow.
You looked at him from below, as blissful smile consuming your face. Reaching up with one hand, you softly caressed his cheek. “Welcome back.”
“Enjoying yourself?” he countered, eyes trailing over your ravished form and taking in the guy currently at work between his girlfriend’s thighs.
“So much,” you admitted truthfully, already feeling your stomach beginning to pull into a taut coil again as Izuku dutifully responded to every signal your body gave him. Apparently, voicing your approval out loud served to make him a little more daring as he pushed his index finger inside of you.
You felt so, so grateful. Grateful to Katsuki for loving you enough to let you have this. Grateful to Izuku for making the reality so much more amazing than you could have ever imagined.
“Keep doing exactly that,” you moaned. “That’s…” You sighed as a second one of his large fingers slipped inside just as easily. “…perfect.”
He pushed them in and out of you in a slow rhythm, which was everything that you needed in that moment. Not for a moment did he cease his ministrations on your clit until he had to in order to ask, “More?”
“Two’s perfect,” you reassured him, realizing a moment too late that it was the second time in a row you were using that word to describe what he was doing. But why shouldn’t you, if it was true? “Three of mine, maybe. But your fingers are big.”
His eyes met yours for just a moment before he closed them and continued his work by licking and sucking your clit. You were becoming putty in his hands.
“You were never this eager to learn,” you teased, voice strained, while looking up at your boyfriend’s face from his lap. A lie. Still, in turn, his eyes narrowed at the obvious taunt, and he reached for your breast, squeezing the nipple more forcefully than strictly necessary. He should have really known you well enough to know that it would only rile you up further. In response, you tightened your leg around Izuku’s shoulders, urging him on as you sensed your orgasm on the horizon.
This time around, its approach was slower. Izuku never tired of pleasuring you, and when you came, he was almost surprised. He stilled his fingers inside you, feeling the way your walls contracted over and over, wanting to commit it to memory. That’s what you tasted like. That’s what you smelled like. That’s what you felt like. That’s what his name sounded like, falling from your lips in a moment of vulnerability. And him, right there, in the middle of it all, directly responsible.
Minutes later, you were still lying on his bed, on your side and curled into yourself. Izuku had followed Katsuki’s example and put his underwear back on, ignoring the strain of his rejuvenated erection against the fabric in favor of a little decency. Meanwhile, there you were, naked as the day you had been born and unable to find it in yourself to feel embarrassed.
They were sitting on the bed with you, Katsuki next to your head, Izuku next to your knees. Katsuki’s hand was resting on your bare shoulder, not stroking you, not moving at all. He was simply holding onto you, anchoring you in reality. Izuku did not dare touch you then – it seemed like such an intimate gesture. He did not want to impose.
You felt too weak to speak, too weak to let go of this moment and let it move on from something that was happening to something that had happened.
Nevertheless, there was one thing that could not remain unsaid.
You were perhaps the only person in the world with the power to contain him.
“What a fucking shitshow,” Katsuki cursed, pushing his hands deeper into the pockets of his uniform jacket and kicking a rock off the ground harder than necessary. He never stopped pacing the sidewalk behind Yuuei where you had been waiting for him after today’s practical exam. All the while, he kept voicing his discontentment.
“For fuck’s sake, why can’t they give us something that’ll actually test our skill level? Bullshit, it always has to be some good-for-nothing dumbass excuse for a test where you lose even if you’re objectively better than the rest, because some fucking weakling will come around with their deus ex machina alternative solution and – oh, wait, did we forget to mention this earlier? Actually, that’s what we wanted to see you doing, so everyone who actually did what we asked them to is a fucking loser.” You could see little sparks flying from his palms, the agitation causing his quirk to flare up. Still, he continued.
“And don’t fucking get me started on Deku! That scrub scrapes by just barely in every goddamn exam we take, and for some shitty reason, he’s always the hero at the end of the day? He doesn’t fucking deserve it, if he really wanted to be the best, he’d try harder, but he hasn’t got any fucking respect for me, or for the academy, or…”
“Love,“ you finally interjected, voice soft, yet determined. It was understandable that he needed to vent, but you did not appreciate the direction his rant had taken.
Almost immediately, he went quiet and stopped in his tracks. Something in the way you had spoken resonated with him. You were a far quieter person than your boyfriend, and if you went out of your way to interrupt him, it was a sort of signal that he must truly be going too far. You were perhaps the only person in the world with the power to contain him.
He was still fuming, and the scowl on his face was unchanged as you closed the distance between the both of you by taking a few steps forward. You reached for his shoulders with both hands and gave him a soft, reassuring squeeze. It was impossible to miss how strung up he was with the tension evident in his body. You felt for him, you truly did. But he had a tendency to get worked up to a degree that could become harmful to himself if he kept it up.
While he was still breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes met yours. He did not resist in the least when your hands moved upwards to his temples. You held his head gently in both hands, trying to absorb all of the negativity in him through your shared gaze.
Slowly, but surely, the intensity in his eyes wavered and the muscles in his jaw relaxed. He knew exactly what you were going to do next, and so, he actively closed some of the distance between you when you gently pulled him down to push his forehead against your own.
His skin was hot from the exertion of today’s trials and his now past outburst. His eyes fell shut, lashes uncharacteristically soft against your cheeks.
“You did your best today, and you were absolutely amazing.” You hoped that your tone emphasized how much you meant every word you were saying. “And next time, you’ll be even better. And one of these days, you’re gonna come out on top. I’m certain of it.”
He hesitated for a moment before his arms wrapped around your middle – one of the softer touches he was capable of only when it came to you.
He never replied to what you had said. He did not need to.
Both of you knew that at times like these, it was your faith in him that grounded him.
After Prompto comes back from the darkness injured, he and Alathea need to reassure themselves and each other that they are still here.
Slowly, but surely, Alathea was growing restless. A glance at the clock told her it was past midnight already. Of course, the time of the day did not matter much anymore these days – the sky was not going to get any darker than it was. It had been three years since the sun had not risen one morning. It had never risen since. The daemons had only grown stronger during that time, and no longer were they constricted to the night hours. After all, night was all there was now.
If it was past midnight that meant Prompto had been gone for more than twelve hours now. He had left earlier today to go hunting. He would not have had to go far to encounter daemons, so his long absence was a substantial cause of worry on Alathea’s part. She wished she had gone with him. They had made a great team for the months and years they had spent at each other’s backs out there. But nowadays he refused to let her come with him. It bothered her, but she could hardly fault him for his insistence considering her… predicament.
The floor she was pacing belonged to the small cottage they had moved into together after all the world had gone to hell. It was somewhat remote, but if one were to walk up the hill out back for a little while, one would eventually be able to spot the lights of Hammerhead in the far distance. A testament to the fact that they had not given up hope and were ready to join a fight larger than either of them at a moment’s notice if the day ever came.
Prompto, Gladiolus and Ignis had drifted apart as time went on. Perhaps the hole that Noctis had left behind burned too deeply whenever they were together. Still, Prompto refused to give up hope. He was certain that one day, all they had fought for would come to its conclusion. His belief was so strong it made Alathea believe in it as well.
The minute hand was pointing straight upwards once more and she was still alone. She knew she would not be able to find sleep until he had returned. Once, he had been gone for two and a half days. Thus, she had been awake for just as long, her consciousness wavering after so many hours had passed, but never quite allowing her to find rest. It made sense, she thought, unintentionally reaching up and running a fingertip along the thin black line circling around her neck. As long as she was unable to sleep, it meant he was wide awake somewhere out there. She held onto that source of hope as tightly as she could.
Then, a sound outside. Her ears perked up and… yes! There were footsteps outside, quiet and distant at first, then suddenly louder on the wooden porch. Alathea was overwhelmed by how glad she felt. She rushed to open the door and threw herself into her lover’s arms, digging her nose into the side of his neck. The sudden calmness that washed over her when holding him twisted back into concern when he winced in her embrace.
She stepped back and took a good look at him. He was standing upright, that much was the good news. But on a closer look, he seemed a little… asymmetrical. His right arm was hanging straight downward, the angle of his shoulder less pronounced than on the other side. His bare arms were covered in dirt and cuts, the bruises forming on his skin too numerous to count, especially without a proper light source.
“Thea,” he said softly, his exhaustion tangible. He seemed too weak to say anything more than that.
Alathea’s eyes widened in worry. “Prompto, you… I…” She swallowed and took a moment to get her thoughts in order. “You’re hurt. Quick, come inside and lie down. I’ll patch you up.”
He nodded gratefully and slowly stumbled past her into the cabin, softly brushing his uninjured arm against her own in passing. As if he were apologizing for being too weak to greet her properly. Something tightened inside her chest at the reminder of how profoundly good he was, both in general and in his treatment of her specifically. Even now, when he was so clearly the one who needed tending to far more than she did.
She followed him inside and urged him to lie down on their shared bed. He inhaled sharply when his back and thus his shoulder hit the mattress, breaths slowly calming as he waited for her to return to his side. She did as soon as she had collected the medical supplies they kept in one of the cabinets. They had done this for each other too many times over the years.
He was watching her every movement as she sat everything down on the nightstand.
“Do you have any cuts that need to be sewn up, or is your shoulder the first thing that has to be taken care of?” she asked, eyes running over his body in evaluation, but unable to draw any final conclusions while he was still wearing his shirt.
“None of them that bad. Shoulder first.” His voice was exhausted from the pain, but steady.
“Okay. Gotta take your shirt off first though, so that I’ll know what I’m working with.” He winced at her words and their implication and it stung her heart. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in a lot of pain. Let me help you.”
Slowly, as carefully as she could, she helped him out of his black top. Before, she had already been able to see part of the bruising on his shoulder. Now, it was obvious that the hematoma went further, across his collarbone until it faded out near his sternum. She almost went ahead and ran her fingers over the battered skin, but caught herself just in time and held back with her fingertips hovering only millimeters above him.
“Your collarbone’s bruised, but it doesn’t look broken. Neither does your upper arm. The shoulder’s definitely dislocated, though,” she informed him.
“Thought so,” he breathed. “Think you can reset it?”
She considered for a moment. While she had never done it to another person, she had had her own shoulder reduced before. It had been a long while since then, but it was not like there was much of a choice. She nodded.
Alathea had Prompto advance to the side until his arm was splayed from his body perpendicularly. She took his arm in both of her hands. He tried to wrap his hand around her own lower arm to help, but had to forfeit his intention due to the reduced mobility in his muscles. Then, she set her sock-clad foot against the side of his ribcage, careful to choose an area with as few bruises as possible. A ridiculous, yet necessary position.
“This is probably gonna hurt a lot. I’m sorry, love.”
All he did was nod, the urgency to find relief visible in his movements. Unable to watch his face while she was causing him pain, Alathea squeezed her eyes shut tightly and then began to pull. She kept her strength as steady as she could, pulling hard enough to make her own muscles protest.
Then, there was a sickening sound that mixed with Prompto’s loud and pained groan.
She let go of his limb carefully, sitting down on the bed softly and putting a hand on his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb while he slowly calmed back down. Soon, his breathing slowed again. He reached up with his uninjured hand to cover hers.
“Thank you,” he whispered and then pressed a kiss to her wrist.
“Are you ready for a potion to numb the pain and heal those cuts a little?” she asked instead of telling him he was welcome. It seemed out of place to say something like that when she had caused him pain, even if it had been for the greater good.
“Please,” he answered. He did not have to ask twice. Alathea helped him prop up his head while she held the vial to his lips, watching his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the liquid.
Afterwards, they simply stayed like that for a while. The cuts littering Prompto’s chest were scabbing and turning into red welts. Still visible, but far less crass to look at already. Nonetheless, she felt a heaviness in her heart as she ran her fingers along the ones less likely to scar lest she hurt him. If she had been out there with him, perhaps he would not have been injured as badly. Then again, he might also have been distracted by his need to protect her and things might have turned out even worse.
If any possible choice was the wrong choice, maybe it was simply the world that was wrong.
Eventually, she reached into the bag with medical supplies, grateful that she had not had to sew him up. She pulled out an ointment and unscrewed the tin, beginning to spread the salve on every single cut she saw. There were many, interspersed with lighter pink and white lines where old wounds had left marks. He did not need any more scars. They were both covered in them already.
“I wish you did not have to put yourself into danger like this,” she mumbled.
“If I didn’t, we’d have no money to live off. And every daemon I kill is one less out there to harm some innocent person.” Noble as ever.
“I know. I understand. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” Alathea closed the tin again and put it back with the other supplies. She pulled her legs onto the bed, sitting sideways so their hips were touching. She needed the contact to reassure herself that he was still here. That was also why she could not stop running her fingertips over his skin.
“You know that I’d never not come back to you.” He was right. She did know. Being apart hurt him as much as it hurt her.
“Not at long as it’s your choice. But whenever you’re out there, I can’t help but spend every second worrying about what might go wrong. You know I have a vivid imagination.”
He reached out with his good hand, lovingly squeezing her hand and then moving up across her elbow, over her shoulder, until he had reached her neck. Softly, he pushed two fingertips against the slim, black line of ink that ran across her pulse.
“If anything like that happened, you would know,” he reminded her. Once again, he was right.
She took his hand in both of hers, pulling off his fingerless glove and pressing a kiss to the inside of his palm. Then, she pushed her cheek into it, enjoying the sensation of the callouses from his firearms against her softer skin.
He moved to skip his fingertips along her lips. “Come here,” he whispered, encouraging her to turn her head and lean down towards him.
She went along with it, as usual unable to resist him. Their breaths were mixing, his respiration still more labored than hers. She attributed it to his body needing the energy to translate the potion into actual healing. Their eyes met. His pupils were dilated, deep pools of warm darkness pulling her in. His mouth ghosted over hers, the softness of the touch reaching inside her and pulling her against him magnetically. For the first few seconds, she did not respond to his kiss, pliable like putty against his motions.
Then, she felt herself slipping and responded, welcoming his tongue into her mouth. No matter how many times she had kissed him – and it must have been thousands and thousands of times after all these years – it always felt like the first time. All the nerves in her lips and tongue were on fire in the best of ways as he licked into her mouth, coaxing a reaction from her to every one of his actions.
Lost in their passionate kissing, she let Prompto pull her on top of him, movements a little awkward with his one arm still splayed across the bed and not yet ready to be used again. She held his face in both hands, running her fingers through his hair, reassuring herself that he was here with her and no longer out there at risk of being killed at any moment. His presence was grounding her, and she let all the intensity with which she had been fearing for him flow into their touches.
The hardness pressing into her from below was impossible to mistake for anything but what it was. Breaking away from her lips for a moment, Prompto exhaled harshly. “Thea, I need you,” he breathed, rocking his hips up emphatically.
“Prompto,” she answered with worry in her voice. “You’re injured. Are you sure now’s the time?”
“I need you,” he repeated, not the slightest hint of shame detectable in the way he looked up at her. He did not exactly sound demanding, but his need for her was more than apparent.
And if Alathea was honest with herself, she needed him just as badly. Needed to know that he was real, that he was here, that they had each other now and always. As such, she did not question him again.
“We’ll have to be careful with your shoulder,” she noted instead, reaching down and pulling her shirt over her head in one swift movement.
His good hand was on her in an instant, grasping one breast and running his thumb along the flesh that was spilling over the bra. Her cleavage had been the first noticeable change about her body.
“Isn’t it too tight?” he wondered, squeezing the flesh in his hand carefully.
“Yeah. But it’s the largest bra I own.” Resources were sparse in this dark world. Those resources included both fitting bras and most methods of contraception.
His hand continued its path and found her stomach where a small bump was by now clearly visible. His eyes took the same path as his hand and the expression in them changed into something not entirely unlike reverence.
“You’re radiant,” he thought out loud. It seemed to Alathea that he had not intentionally said it, but did not mind having voiced his appraisal.
She could have said the same thing about him. Even with his injuries, the thing that stood out most about his chest were the myriad of freckles spanning from his neck across his collarbones and further down. His nipples were a soft pink that was perfectly complimented by the redness that had spread across his cheeks and neck.
She could not keep herself from kissing every kind of mark on his skin, diligently trying not to miss a single spot. “Thea,” he whispered in encouragement, sighing and moaning in response to her caresses.
His abs seemed to vibrate underneath his skin as she went lower. Every kiss against his skin demanded a reaction from his body, and she was ever amazed at how perfect he was from head to toe. It aroused her to know that it was her of all people that could make him respond so wonderfully to each and every touch.
His pale skin became almost translucent in places where his bones pushed against the skin. She could see a small net of veins spanning his hipbone. He was living, and he was beautiful.
She had never taken off his boots in her earlier hurry to treat his injuries.
After they were gone, both his and her pairs of pants and socks soon followed. As did her too-tight bra.
When she mounted him, she had long since been ready. It was simply what he did to her. She rocked herself up and down carefully, supporting her weight with one hand on his chest. Not daring to go any faster lest she hurt his shoulder, Alathea’s gaze caught on Prompto’s. She did not dare look away again. The intensity and adoration in his eyes only underlined the sensation of his cock entering her over and over.
“Prompto,” she whispered, eyes never leaving his, pace slow and steady. “Touch me.”
He reached for her convex stomach at first, a little as if he had to be careful not to forget what it meant.
“You’re perfect,” he said as if he were reminding her of an important fact.
Then, his fingers slipped to that place between her legs and she swore she began to see stars as he rubbed circles against her clit.
She rode him through her own orgasm and further, soon drawing him into the realm of bliss along with her. Only then did she still on top of him, her insides yet squeezing him erratically.
Even now, he was looking up at her as if she were supernatural, as if he had to remind himself again and again who she was, what she was, what they were.
“Thank you,” he whispered, exhausted and content. Alathea was glad to have been able to provide what he had needed. What they had both needed.
She sat back a little and moved the hand she had been holding herself up with from his chest to his upper arm – the injured one. She ran her fingers along the tattoo there. The one he had always been covering up with a piece of cloth when he had been younger. When they had not yet found each other.
“I love you,” she emphasized, a verbal declaration joining the nonverbal one.
He mirrored the gesture, once more touching her neck softly, feeling her pulse jumping underneath his fingertips.
If you're going to have sex while sharing the tent with others, you'll have to be very careful.
Maybe going to bed so early had been a bad idea on your part. But Ignis had reminded everyone that you were to get back on the road early tomorrow morning, and after Gladiolus and Prompto, too, had decided to call it a night, you had not been too far behind. Being the last one left by the campfire had not seemed like such a great pastime.
Now, your lack of tiredness was keeping you awake. It was not that your sleeping arrangements were uncomfortable. Not at all, in fact – while Prompto and you had only recently become an official item, you did not have to hide your growing relationship from the others. As such, you had connected both of your sleeping bags at their zippers, making it into one large and surprisingly comfortable place to sleep. You were using Prompto’s arm as a pillow, the way you preferred it – but still, despite how nice it felt to be so close to him, sleep would not come.
You sighed, shuffling around a bit because one of your arms was starting to feel numb. Wrapping yourself around your boyfriend a little more in the process, you entwined your legs with his, enjoying the feeling of his cool skin against your warmer body. It was not a cold night. Less careful than you could have been, you wrapped an arm around his slender waist and pushed your face into the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. A certain sweetness you were never able to quite place. Gunpowder. The slightest bit of sweat from a warm summer’s evening. Caught up in the moment and without really thinking about it, you placed a soft kiss on the side of his throat. Even when asleep, he was impossible to resist.
Closing your eyes once more with the intent of finally falling asleep, you tucked up your legs a little further, thigh brushing Prompto’s crotch in the process.
He was hard. Perhaps not entirely there yet, but well on his way.
Your eyes opened almost automatically, and you lifted your head from his shoulder to look at his face. Obviously, it was rather dark inside the tent, but even if it had been pitch black, you would not have been able to miss the bright shine of Prompto’s blue eyes looking back at you. Had he not only just been sleeping? Still, his eyes were light as day. Perhaps it was the arousal that had woken him up so quickly – the arousal you could feel pressing against your leg. Perhaps the way you were moving your leg against him was not helping.
The sly grin that formed on his beautiful, freckled face told you that he approved of your intentions. You felt a matching smile pulling at your own lips, pausing for a short moment to listen. The other three guys’ breathing sounded even enough to reassure you that they were asleep.
With that assurance, you leaned down and pressed your lips against your boyfriend’s, positively delighted at how eagerly he responded. Your mouth opened almost naturally to welcome his tongue against the tip of your own. There, he left teasing licks that made you give up a sigh he immediately swallowed. He was such a good kisser. A true natural.
Lifting your leg from its spot between his, you straddled him, already feeling the wetness collecting at your center. There was not a lot of room to move around inside your doubled-up sleeping bag. Considering that there was nothing you desired less than for there to be any kind of space separating your bodies, it was not such a bad thing. The way he held onto your waist with both hands, pressing your crotch against his now completely hardened erection, let you know that he agreed.
With a single word yet to be spoken between the both of you, you reached downwards for the sweat shorts you slept in, pulling them down as far as you could in this position and then moving your legs until they had been pushed off to find their place somewhere at the bottom of the sleeping bag.
When you looked back up at Prompto, the sheer desire with which he gazed at your body sent a shiver through you. Hovering above him like this, your tank top was hanging off of you, revealing more of your braless chest than it was hiding. A view he very clearly appreciated, if the way his eyes lingered on your form was any indication. Already, he was breathing heavily, his cheeks and the upper area of his chest dusted red. Your heart beat faster at the sight. Tonight, more than ever, you were grateful that he slept in only his underwear.
While you were still lingering on that thought and appreciating the conclusion that there was a maximum of only two more layers keeping you from impaling yourself on Prompto’s cock, he took your momentary distraction and used it to flip you over.
Now, this was a position you, too, were able to appreciate. You gave him a lopsided smile, spreading your legs a little further and waiting for the good things that were sure to follow.
He did not disappoint. One of his hands cupped your cheek, pulling you in for a soft kiss that was almost too chaste compared to the rest of the situation you found yourself in. Still, you sighed into his mouth lovingly. You simply could not get enough of kissing him. His hand left your cheek, moving downwards slowly at first, and then, without further ado, grasping the neckline of your tank top and yanking it down, your breasts spilling out, leaving you half-bare despite still being clothed.
You let your head fall back, breaking the kiss in the process and releasing an appreciative sound, disregarding for a moment that if any of the guys were to wake up now, they would get a full view of you naked tits. Prompto shushed you wordlessly, the amused expression in his eyes telling you that had he not, too, needed to be quiet, he would have laughed out loud.
Even with the short time you had been dating, already you had fallen into a blissful easiness when it came to sex. You were able to laugh without ruining the mood, any funny situation usually followed by something else that blew your mind and was sure to not only uphold, but increase your excitement.
Just like now, when Prompto’s lips closed around your left nipple, sucking on the hardened bud arduously, knowing exactly that for every fraction of a second he kept at it, another white-hot flash of arousal found its home between your legs. Holding onto his head and threading your fingers into his soft blond hair, you were trying quite desperately to keep quiet. If only you had been able to press your legs together to relieve some of the building pressure – but Prompto’s hips between them made sure that that was not an option.
You squeezed your eyes shut when he released your nipple with a soft, yet unbelievably dirty popping sound – only to give you no rest at all before he continued his treatment, this time on your other breast. God, how you wished you could tell him to get inside you already – or hear him say anything to you at all. Around this time, perhaps he would be telling you how soft your breasts were and how much he loved that about them. He had said so a few days ago, while he had romantically been fucking you in a surprisingly well-kept gas station bathroom. It had been too long since you had seen the inside of a hotel room.
Prompto’s mouth was back on yours, and he was shuffling around on top of you. A few seconds later, something warm and undeniably solid was poking you in the stomach. After that, it all happened in a flash – already, he had pushed the soaked crotch of your panties to the side, fingertips circling your entrance and spreading your wetness generously. Lining his cock up with you, he pushed the head against you, pausing for another short moment. You could feel your insides twitching, beckoning him to enter.
And then, with one precise stroke, he did. Before you were able to forget yourself and cry out, Prompto had clutched his hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet. His fingertips were still covered in your arousal, now wet against your cheek. With the way he was fucking you, quick and hard, never pulling out of you fully due to the lack of room the sleeping bag offered, it was a good thing he was keeping your mouth covered. You were close, had been close since before he had even opened you up, and because you needed something to find purchase on, you reached up and rested your hands on his shoulder blades. Pulling him down against you, you pushed your chest upwards to touch your naked skin to his, desperately needing the contact.
He was panting, trying to make as little sound as possible. Since you were so cautious of any noises, for the first time ever, you realized how audibly wet it sounded as he drove himself inside you. How the fabric around you rustled with each movement. How loud your heart was pounding, almost certainly in sync with his.
Your hands slipped from his shoulders to his lower back, pulling him inside you along with each thrust he gave. Prompto’s hand that was not muffling your moans snuck past your breasts and navel, finding your clit and rolling it between two fingers. At the same time, his movements became noticeably arrhythmic. A few more pushes inside you and he stilled, buried to the hilt, eyes shutting in concentration before his forehead fell against your collarbone. The knowledge that he was spilling himself inside you right then blurred into the feeling of his fingers still stimulating the core of your sexual need. And then you were falling over the edge.
The squeal that found its way into Prompto’s palm may have been louder than was strictly necessary, but you could not help it.
After a few seconds of utter silence, your boyfriend lifted his head from your still partially bare chest, finally removing his hand from your face. The wetness he had had on his fingers earlier had dried on your cheek. You were too spent to care about it all that much.
Your eyes met Prompto’s and you could not help but laugh, of course as quietly as you could. If any of the guys had noticed your actions, they would have teased you to no end for being unable to keep your hands off each other even in a situation like this. He joined in with a deeper, similarly low laugh of his own, pushing his forehead against yours affectionately.
When the moment had passed, he removed himself from on top of you, letting you fit yourself against his side once more, the way you liked it best. You pulled on the fabric of your panties and tank top until you were at least the slightest bit decent again. Then, you did the same for Prompto, who had simply shoved his underwear down far enough to free himself earlier. For just a moment, you considered looking for your shorts at the bottom of the sleeping bag, but then decided against it.
Lying here like this, exhausted and satisfied, bodies fitting together like two pieces of a very simple puzzle, was far too perfect to allow for even a single inch of movement. The last thing you registered before you fell asleep was Prompto pressing a soft kiss against your scalp.
You would simply have to be the last one to leave the tent tomorrow morning.
It's been a year since her father passed. When Evie copes by getting drunk, she and Butch finally end up asking and answering questions they've been wanting to ask each other for a long time..
Looking back at the past several months, it was safe to say that Evie’s life had not exactly been filled to the brim with happy days. Life outside the vault was hard. Although she had become more proficient at a lot of things which allowed her a moment of respite every now and then, she often missed the comfort and lack of risk life inside the vault had meant. Apparently, she too was guilty of not counting her blessings until they were gone.
No, her life had got seriously off track. But even considering that, today was probably one of the worst days yet. It had been exactly one year now. One year since she had had to watch helplessly while the radiation burned her father to death. One year filled with recurring thoughts of what she could have done, should have done, had failed to do.
She had been counting the days for about a week now, dreading the morning when she was going to wake up and be forced to realize that one year had come and gone – and here she was, with nothing to show for it. No progress in any direction whatsoever. All she had been doing was wandering around the wasteland aimlessly, from one place to the next, with no clear goal in mind.
At least – and she was more grateful for that than she would like to admit – she was no longer alone. A short while after James’s death, Amata’s radio signal had reached her. With no other purpose to follow, she had returned to the vault immediately. She had ended the rebellion peacefully. She had made Amata the new Overseer. She had got kicked back out into the dirty outside world before she had even had the time to ask whether she could stay. Back to square minus one.
She had been stumbling from one place to the next, the loneliness engulfing her and dreading to eat her up. In Rivet City, all she had really wanted to do had been to drown her sorrows in three or seven pints of beer. Reencountering Butch had not been part of said plan. Neither had asking him to join her on her journeys. But she had been drunk and sad and sad drunks obviously knew no pride. She still did not know why he had accepted her offer, but he had tagged along when she had left the city two days later. And so far, he had never mentioned anything about wanting to part ways again.
Evie had not yet learned to handle difficult situations in healthier ways than she had done one year prior. So here she was, sitting in an old garden chair on top of the shack they had spent the last night at, slowly sinking deeper into the mesh. Her feet – looking weirdly large in combat boots – were crossed and resting on the low table in front of her as she stared into the beginning sunset. The lovely red hues were not enough to comfort her this evening. She had started to drink hours earlier.
Butch had still been here then. They had not spoken much all day. It seemed that even this morning he had been able to tell she was in a weird mood. Of course, he did not know what exactly was wrong with her, but he tended to avoid talking about feelings. He was probably no good at it either, Evie assumed. So instead, he had gone out to gather supplies from the nearby Super-Duper Mart they had happened upon yesterday.
It was fine with her. This way, she would not have to worry about him seeing her like this. At least not until he came back, which would probably be soon. By that time, however, she would most likely be too drunk to worry about it. To be honest, she already was.
Maybe she could ask him to give her a hug. No, that was stupid. Things had been slightly awkward between them ever since that weird and weirdly great night a few weeks ago anyways. They had silently agreed not to mention it, so neither of them had ever acknowledged what had happened. Her heart beat faster simply from the memory. Evie was not even certain which part had been the most intimate: his tongue in her mouth, his fingers inside her body or the fact that he had held her while they both fell asleep.
Butch DeLoria. If she could travel back in time to tell her past self that one day, she would completely unironically consider losing her virginity to him of all people, past Evie might proclaim her deranged, convinced her future self had lost it. How had they even come to that point? Butch DeLoria, her childhood bully. Her worst nemesis. Her best friend in the whole wide world.
Also, the man who chose this exact moment to climb onto the roof.
The sky had taken on an even deeper red color by now, and it was beginning to get dark. Evie was having a little trouble focusing on the exact shape that was Butch. She gave a weak wave in his general direction. She by now felt pleasantly buzzed and almost kind of happy he was here. Embarrassed, but happy.
He did not wave back, but gave a short, throaty laugh at the sight before him. “Someone’s been drinking, huh?”
She nodded softly. “Care to join me?”
“Sure thing. Hand me the stuff.” He stepped closer and unceremoniously dropped himself onto the second garden chair next to hers. He took the bottle of scotch Evie was holding out to him and took a big gulp, simultaneously putting his feet on the table next to hers, ankles crossed comfortably. “Strong.”
“Yeah, it’s awful. But I ran out of beer.”
“You’ve been at this a while, I guess?”
“Yeah.” She sighed, mentally running through a couple of good and less than good excuses she could name for her behavior. But then, it had been quiet for a few seconds too long and it would have felt awkward to say anything anymore. So she said nothing more.
They passed the bottle back and forth between each other for a while longer. The sun was barely still visible at the horizon. Stars were beginning to show in the dark sky that still felt alien to look at, even now. Too far up and way too vast. Such amounts of space seemed almost unrealistic.
Evie thanked the heavens that the day was almost over. It had been one of those days that lasted for weeks.
“You know, sometimes I look up and for a second, I’m scared I’ll fall into the sky all over again.”
Evie did not have to look at Butch to know that he was smiling. It was no secret he liked having a few drinks every now and then, and until now, she had been the wrong kind of company for that. He seemed to be enjoying this different sort of evening entertainment for once.
“Oh, me too. It’s scary. And really beautiful. But also really creepy.”
He made a noise that indicated agreement. “And we’ve been out of the vault for ages! Does that ever stop?”
“If it ever does, I’ll tell you before anyone else.”
“Thanks, girlfriend.” There it was again. He called her ‘girlfriend’ as if it were just a pet name. And maybe it was. Maybe he meant nothing at all by it. If she were to ask, he would surely think her crazy for even insinuating it might hold any sort of significance. She decided to ignore it, the same way she always did.
Instead of saying anything, she took a big sip of scotch, grimacing as the dark liquid burned its way down her throat. Butch laughed out loud at the face she made. “You don’t drink often, huh?”
“Matter of fact, I don’t. And with how this tastes I’m remembering why. Don’t you mind the taste at all?”
“’fcourse I do. I just taught myself not to pull a face because of it. No one drinks alcohol because they like the taste so much. People drink to get drunk.”
“Philosophic, are we?”
“Well, you know me. Always been a poet.”
Evie could not help but laugh heartily at that. She looked over at him for a moment, a wide smile yet present on her lips. When his eyes met hers, she looked away again almost immediately. For an instant, she had again remembered what she had been thinking about earlier. Intimacy. What a weird thing to be thinking about in the same context as him. Stupid alcohol.
“Can I ask you something?” she tested after a little while of silence.
“Shoot.”
“Why did you come with me?” His only reply was a noise that implied a question mark, so Evie decided to elaborate. “Back in Rivet City. Why did you agree to join me?”
“If you didn’t want me to come, why did you ask?”
“Never said I didn’t want you to. I did. And I was drunk and sad. That’s why I asked.”
It seemed Butch did not know exactly how to answer that. Evie had apparently been right with her guess that he was no good at talking about feelings, no matter what kind.
After a little while, she spoke up again. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things awkward.”
“’sfine. Just trying to think of a good answer.”
“Thought of one yet?”
He hesitated for another moment before he answered. “I wanted to. That’s it.”
Evie decided to blame the scotch for the smile that grew on her face at his words. It was not the whole truth, but one she could go with without having to think about it too much.
“Do I get to ask you awkward questions too?”
“Wouldn’t be fair otherwise, I guess.” She slightly dreaded what he was going to ask her, but she supposed she had to give him that.
“And you have to answer honestly too, else I’ll be feeling like a real idiot.”
They both chuckled. “I promise,” Evie replied. It was not a difficult promise to make. The alcohol made bluntness all that much easier.
“Why did you keep the jacket?” He gesticulated towards her black leather jacket with its snake emblem on the back. The emblem he had sewn on by hand. It was the jacket she had been wearing almost non-stop ever since the day she had come stumbling out of the vault, blinded by the sunlight that was so much brighter that the artificial illumination inside had ever allowed her to expect.
Although tonight had brought to light a different side of her, Evie was usually a rather quiet and reserved person. As such, she spent most of her time thinking about things without ever voicing those thoughts. His question was one she had expected, and she had even been anticipating it for a long time. Still, she had never been able to decide what she would say if he ever did ask. What if he saw some sort of symbolism in her failure to ever rid herself of the jacket? What if there actually was some sort of symbolism there?
“I… didn’t take many things when I left the vault.” She had not had the chance to. “And the jacket was one of the few things I had that reminded me of home. I’ve grown really attached to it.” It was the truth, if not the whole truth. Nowadays, the fact that it had not simply been someone’s jacket, but rather <i>his</i> jacket, held meaning, too.
Another moment of silence, broken only by the sounds of liquid moving inside glass and their heavy swallowing. Evie could feel herself slowly slipping from buzzed to drunk.
“My turn,” she stated. “Why did you never leave?”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same thing you already asked? Because I don’t wanna. Why didn’t you ever ask me to leave if it’s so important?”
The mood had shifted; it seemed he had taken offence at her questions or rather, at what he thought they implied. That had not been Evie’s intention at all. She simply found it hard to believe that he actually enjoyed being out and about with her. All this time, she had been fearing that he had only agreed to come with her because he had had few other possibilities. And that one day, he was going to get sick of her and leave. She was not the most pleasant person to be around and she knew it.
“I’m sorry. I’m drunk and sad. Kinda like that day in Rivet City. And I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t want you here. I do. I used to be so lonely, and now I’m not. I’d hate it if you left. That’s why I asked. Because I really don’t want you to leave.” She had a feeling she was repeating herself now, but her head was swimming.
“You know, it’s not so bad when you’re drunk like this?” Butch’s aggravation was gone as instantaneously as it had appeared. “At least I know where I’m at with you for once. You never say anything! I’m always in my head guessing what you’re thinking, and wondering if you’re mad at me or if that’s just the way you are, and never getting a straight answer.”
She had never even considered he might feel that way. What a strange thought, that all this time, while she had been trying and failing to understand him, it had not been all that different for him.
“I just know I’m gonna hate myself for oversharing tomorrow.”
“You’re not gonna take it back, are you?”
“Well, obviously, I can’t.” Maybe it was better that way.
The moon had risen fully by now. It was as dark as it was going to get. With the lack of civilization nearby, the moon and stars’ white light was more than bright enough for Evie’s taste. She could feel the tiredness from carrying her negativity around all day in her bones. The bottom of the bottle was growing closer, too.
“So, as much as I’m enjoying you saying more than five words for once, you drinking like this is really out of character. Wanna tell me what’s got you drinking?”
There it was. The question she had been dreading, but also the question she had been silently begging someone to ask. Begging him to ask. Because no one had asked her why during all this time.
“My dad’s been dead for one whole year today.” The words were out there before Evie had even caught herself forming them. There was a lump in her throat from the significance of it, but at the same time, an intense feeling of relief washed over her. It was so strong she barely noticed how long the ensuing silence was until Butch said anything.
“Damn,” he eventually forced out, eloquent as ever.
“I know,” she answered, a sad smile itching at the corners of her mouth. A warmth bloomed inside Evie because the response he had given had been absolutely perfect. <i>Damn</i>. Because that was all there was to say, was it not? She was more grateful than he could know that he had not asked her to elaborate. She did not want to talk about it, not yet. Maybe one day. But for now, <i>damn</i> just about cut it.
She deliberately let the silence linger for a minute or two. Then she decided to save Butch from the awkwardness he was most likely experiencing.
“My turn again.” She gave him a moment to mentally prepare for her asking him another question. Since they had crossed the border into serious territory, she hesitated only barely before continuing in a similar fashion. “Are you happy? You know, with the decisions you made? Leaving the vault and everything behind?”
His answer came without missing a beat. “Best fucking decision of my life. There wasn’t anything keeping me there.”
That he had been itching to leave the vault had been clear from the first moment she had seen him during her short-lived return to the vault. But that he was so adamant about it surprised Evie. “Your friends? Your mother?”
He hesitated for a few breaths then. “Maybe my mom. But not really either. We were always fighting and then I’d say things and then regret them the next day, and she was always so unhappy. Maybe she’s better off without me to worry about.”
<i>I bet she misses you.</i> Evie decided not to voice that thought. There was nothing to gain from saying something out loud that he surely already knew. If anything, it would only cause him pain. So, instead, she said something else.
“So, you never think about going back?” To her that seemed an impossibility.
“Not really. Do you?”
Of course she did. Out here, she belonged nowhere and with no one. There was no purpose to her aimless wandering at all. She longed for the time when she had still been living inside the vault. Even then, she had often been unhappy. But at least she had been an unhappy person with a sense of consistency.
“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled eventually. “I can’t go back anyways. Amata made that pretty clear.”
Butch gave a noise of both recollection and agreement. “That’s so fucked up. You come as soon as you’re called to help, bring peace, convince the asshole Overseer to step down and not a single person dies in the process. And then it’s, well, thanks a bunch, but if you’d kindly show yourself out? Oh, and don’t come back. See you never.”
Evie had not anticipated this level of involvedness on his part. “You’re so angry when it isn’t even you they threw out.” She gave a small, perfectly unfitting laugh. In her drunk mind, hearing all of her misery summed up so neatly made her want to laugh out loud so she would not accidentally end up crying instead.
“Well, aren’t you?”
Her laugh faded and was replaced by grim certainty. “Every time I think about it, I get angrier.”
Butch nodded in agreement before turning her earlier question around on her. “So, if all that weren’t keeping you, would you still go back?”
Her reply, too, came quick as a shot. “In a heartbeat.”
Evie’s next sip from the scotch was the last. She leaned forward, putting the empty bottle down on the small table before lifting her feet and putting them down on the roof. For just a moment, she held her face in her hands while the world spun around her. It had been way too much alcohol in way too little time for her inexperienced body. She took a deep breath before lifting herself into a standing position.
She stumbled only slightly before finding her balance. Still, on this rooftop, that seemed to be enough to alarm her companion. Already, Butch had jumped up and grabbed her by one arm, helping to keep her upright.
And boy, was he standing close, Evie realized. When he was this close, she felt wonderfully small in comparison to him. With the moonlight hitting him from behind, darkness hid his facial expression from her. No matter. She was unable to focus her sight properly anyways. But being close to him felt nice. Even the way he held onto her arm felt nice, be it only to stabilize her.
He laughed, and it made her chest feel even warmer than the alcohol had. “You’re even drunker than I’d realized.”
Yes, she was. She was very, very drunk and he was very, very close. And she wanted very, very much for him to be even closer.
She leaned up and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment, she could have sworn he kissed her back. But then he took her by the shoulder and carefully pushed her off, holding her at an arm’s length.
“Evie,” he said slowly, tauntingly. “You’re super drunk.”
“I know,” she admitted, leaning forward and pecking his lips again. “But I already wanted to do that when I wasn’t drunk.” She tried to kiss him again, but this time, he was ready and able to stop her before she could reach him.
Only then did it dawn on her that he was rejecting her. Her stomach dropped. But she had thought…
“But…” she started, stumbling over her own words. It was unsurprising with the state she was in. “But I thought…” She swallowed. “I thought you’d want this.”
He patted her shoulder gently, once, twice. “You know, I’m not totally sure what ‘this’ is, but I probably do.” His voice sounded a little as if he were explaining something to a child. “Let’s just take a rain check on it for tonight, okay? And then, tomorrow, or maybe the day after, whenever your inevitable hangover’s done with, we’ll still have time, okay? You’re sad and drunk. Said so yourself.”
“I am sad and drunk,” Evie conceded in a small voice, looking down at her feet. She took a small, shaky step backwards to put a little more space between them both. The rejection already stung now. She did not even want to think about what it would feel like when she was sober again. “I think I just wanna go to bed.”
He helped her down the ladder and back inside the shack. Everything was a little blurry at this point. One moment there was a hand against her lower back, keeping her steady as she climbed down. The next, Butch was helping her out of her boots and jacket. Then, she had rolled into a little ball on the bed. Her head was spinning when she closed her eyes, but she was so tired she simply braved through it. Within moments, sleep had caught up with her.
A few feet away, Butch settled in for the night on a worn armchair, wondering when exactly he had become the type of man to turn down an opportunity like this. It had not even been as difficult at all. The idea of exploiting Evie’s moment of weakness held less than no attraction for him.
What he did enjoy was the newfound knowledge that she had, in fact, thought about kissing him – and perhaps more – while sober. That idea was so much nicer, he thought, and soon fell asleep.
