a/n: every time he's rude to his mom i lose a year off my life
cw: fluff, grumpy katsuki cus when is he not
The front door to the Bakugo household burst open with its usual intense energy. You clutched the strap of your bag a little tighter as Katsuki dragged you inside by the wrist, his calloused hand warm and insistent.
“Oi, we’re here!” he barked, kicking off his shoes with more force than necessary. “I brought someone! Come say hi,” he dropped his voice, “Or don’t.”
Your heart hammered. This was supposed to happen eventually. But, Katsuki being Katsuki meant no warning text, no hey, mind if I bring my girlfriend over, just a casual ‘come on, dumbass’ after patrol, and suddenly you were standing in his house.
His mom appeared from the kitchen like a storm front, wiping her hands on a towel. Her sharp eyes - identical to her son’s - widened when they landed on you, then narrowed at Katsuki.
“Katsuki! You bring your girlfriend home and don’t even text me first?! I look like I just crawled out of a villain fight!” She gestured at her casual house clothes, then turned to you with a bright, slightly frazzled smile. “You must be the one he’s been muttering about. Come in, come in! I’m Mitsuki. Ignore my idiot son’s lack of manners.”
Masaru waved at you from his place at the dining table, “Welcome. We’ve heard… bits and pieces.”
You bowed politely, cheeks warm, “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry for the surprise visit-”
“Surprise?” Mitsuki cut in, rounding on Katsuki, “Someone has the audacity to drag his girlfriend over unannounced like I run a damn hotel! I haven’t even started dinner properly!”
Katsuki stepped in front of you slightly, bucking up to his mother out of habit, “For fuck’s sake, woman! I don’t bring her home, you get mad at me, and when I do you get mad too! Cut me some slack, you old hag-”
“Katsuki Bakugo.”
The whole room stilled in an instant with the snap of your voice - the only sounds coming from the worn A/C unit and the birds outside. Masaru hid a growing smile behind his cup of coffee. Mitsuki didn’t bother to mask the look on her face - first shock, to fondness when she looked at you, then an expectant look back at Katsuki.
Katsuki, for what it was worth, was stiff. Frozen in place - shoulders high and tense - looking like he’d rather be fighting All for One than turn to face you.
You gave him approximately two seconds before flipping him around yourself, one hand pointing a finger in his face, the other twisted in his shirt collar. “You will speak to your mother with grace, or so help me God I’ll make sure you have no choice but to crawl back home.”
His face twisted, “But, she-”
“No,” you spun him back around to face Mitsuki - who was sporting a small smirk, arms crossed, “Apologize.”
He gestured to Mitsuki, looking at you over his shoulder, “Babe, she knows I don’t mean it- Hey-!”
You stepped to his side, grabbed his ear, and pulled, voice laced with venom as you growled at him, “Apologize to her. Now.”
He clenched his jaw, but made no move out of your grasp - hunched over almost halfway. He glared at his mother, words coming through gritted teeth, with an edge of sarcasm you knew you could never fully sand away, “Sorry. Or whatever.”
Mitsuki opened her mouth to speak, but before she could you tightened your grip, making him wince, “Try again. Like you mean it.”
You heard him grumble under his breath, eyes squeezing shut in frustration for a moment before sighing deeply, “...I’m sorry, Mom.”
You beamed - kissing his cheek, smoothing his shirt and letting him go all at once, “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Mitsuki burst out laughing, a loud, triumphant sound that filled the house, “Holy shit, she’s got you whipped already! I love her.” She wiped a tear from her eye, then pulled you into a fierce hug. “You’re staying for dinner. No arguments.”
Katsuki rubbed his ear, glaring daggers at the floor, “Tch. Whatever.”
You pinched his side lightly, “Watch your tone. That’s your mother you’re speaking to.”
He stiffened but bit back whatever retort was brewing. Masaru hid his grin behind his coffee mug.
The evening settled into a surprisingly warm rhythm. In the kitchen, Mitsuki kept up a steady stream of stories about Katsuki’s childhood while you helped chop vegetables. Every time Katsuki tried to snap at his mom - “Stop running your mouth, hag” - you’d shoot him a warning look or tug his sleeve.
“Try again,” you murmured the second time, voice low but firm.
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, “…Can you pass the salt. Please.”
Mitsuki’s eyebrows shot up, but she handed it over with a smirk, “Well damn. Miracles do happen.”
Dinner was lively. Katsuki sat glued to your side, his knee pressed against yours under the table like a silent claim. When he started to bark at his mother about her overcooked rice, you cleared your throat pointedly.
He caught himself, snapping his jaw shut mid-sentence, cheeks flushing. “It’s… fine,” he grumbled instead.
You smiled and squeezed his hand. His ears went red, but he didn’t pull away.
After the meal, while Mitsuki and Masaru cleared plates (insisting the ‘lovebirds’ relax), Katsuki hauled you upstairs to his room. The second the door clicked shut, he crowded you against it, forehead dropping to yours.
“You’re such a pain,” he muttered, but there was no real heat in it - only fond exasperation. “Making me act all polite like some damn extra.”
You cupped his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks, “She’s your mom, Katsuki. She deserves respect. I’m not letting you talk to her like that, not in front of me.”
He groaned but leaned into your touch, “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” His voice softened, almost shy, “…Thanks. For handling my dumb ass.”
You kissed him slow and sweet, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. When you pulled back, he was smiling softly - a small, crooked thing meant only for you.
Downstairs, Mitsuki’s laughter echoed up the stairs. Katsuki rolled his eyes but laced his fingers with yours, “Guess you’re stuck with all of us now.”
summary: Jason finds out his girlfriend is far more gotham than he thought
content: fluff, mention of guns and a broken nose
Jason loved his city. Loved it so much he carried it in the words he spoke. Accent sharp and aggressive in the way that only fellow Gothamites know is anything but. He loved his city and loved that you too, carried the weight of the city in your voice. He notices it when you meet and notices much later that you don’t just have the voice of a Gothamite but the survival skills of one.
WHATS THE HOLDUP?
He remembers an earlier date one where the hours were lost to late night laughs and the sound of soft footsteps are lost to the wind. The sound of a gun cocking is what tears you and Jason out of a night that started all too perfect. Jason knows he’s far too trained to let some mugger slip by his senses like that and too far in love that it does happen.
“Empty your wallets now.” The man growls as he points the gun at Jason. “You try anything and I’ll shoot you both.” Gun pointed at you finger hovering the trigger as the man waits for your wallet. All Jason can do is wait till the gun is pointed back at him. He can’t risk the asshole shooting you instead of him.
You rifle through the purse frantically. You still haven’t found it.
The man lunges over. Impatient.
“Give me that shit”
CRACK
Jason blinks. It’s the familiar sound of bone cracking.
He sees it. The blood and the pink brass knuckles on your raised fist. Sees how the blood drips from a now crooked nose and how in the second your fist pulls back from the man you’ve smacked the gun out of his hand. It clatters across the asphalt.
Your heels clack on the ground as you sprint around the corner. And Jason perplexed and in love as ever realizes you’ve left him. Body and mind finally caught up; as he takes off down the street after you.
You’re waiting for him leaned against the car all too casual like a. you didn't just kick ass and b. like you didn't run a block in heels.
“What took you so long?”
♡⋆⭒˚｡⋆
2. WELCOME HOME
His boots thud against the fire escape of the apartment as he stumbles forward. He smells like ash and blood. He reaches the window and for once the city is asleep. He’s as quiet as his aching body can muster. He doesn’t expect you to be awake and certainly doesn’t expect to see the barrel of a gun.
“Glad to see you missed me.”
“Jason” you whisper shout “You scared the shit out of me!”
“You’re not the one at gunpoint sweetheart. What are you even doing up at this hour?”
You pad your way to the kitchen leaving the gun on the counter as you rummage through the fridge “So, dinner?”
♡⋆⭒˚｡⋆
3. WHATS THE POINT? 22 CALIBER
“Do you even know how to shoot?”
“I know enough.”
“Just come on- entertain me give me peace of mind.” After you pulled a gun on him, his priority is gun safety. Gotham be damned, his girl will know how to protect herself.
The smoke from the gun curls in the air as Jason demonstrates proper gun holding technique. The safety headphones don’t do much to keep the gunshots under wraps and the glasses just slide down your nose.
“Okay now grab it and hold it like this.” his fingers ghost over yours to ensure it’s held proper.
“Now if you don’t hold it tight enough, the gun won’t shoot properly. That’s called limp wristing okay.”
You pick up the gun. Jason gives a smile of approval at the hand placement. They learn so fast.
“Now, make sure the gun sights line up. Point and aim. Don’t beat yourself up if the shots don't land.”
The silhouette of a man is drawn on the poster a red dot marks the center of the head, and a longer red oval shape marks the center of the stomach.
You cock the gun and start firing. Bullets fly outwards plinking to the ground as you empty the magazine.
Not a stray bullet and not a struggle aiming. Jason thinks maybe you do know enough.
4. COMMISSIONER? I HARDLY KNOW HER.
The commissioner stands on the roof cigarette dangling from his mouth as his lighter struggles against the wind. The Bat signal pierces the skyline followed by the muffled sound of ambulances. Batman arrives with the shadows followed by the menacing Redhood.
The door slams shut, his head tilts in the direction of the noise. You stride towards the group.
“Commissioner, Bats, Hood” You greet small smile splaying on your lips.
“Give us the details Y/N”
“Alright we’ve got a ship docking at midnight, there’ll be armed guards. Their weapon of choice? Lethal toxin that renders the victim paralyzed in a matter of minutes. I’ve created an injection to neutralize the reaction. I’ve got the schematics for the ship and where they’re holding the hostages.”
Jason clicks his comms on as he waits for the ship.
“You didn’t tell me you knew the commissioner.”
Your voice crackles in his ear light and playful “It’s more of a summer job really.”
Jason Todd who knows no personal boundaries with you. Once you moved in together, it just flipped a switch in him. If you thought he was clingy before, that was nothing compared to now.
He trails after you. Follows you around everywhere and somehow despite being one of the smartest men you know, doesn’t always recognize the need for personal space.
Standing too close while you’re cooking breakfast, bowl of batter in hand being splashed all over him when you turn and he’s not even three inches away from you. That’s the least of your worries on the ever-growing list.
You figure if he wasn’t an incredibly stealthy vigilante it wouldn’t be as much of an issue, but when you aren’t expecting him to be up your ass it leads to constant bumping into each other.
~
He follows you into the bathroom one day and you have to pee so bad you can’t even be bothered to stop him. You allow him to stand against the counter facing you and continue the conversation.
When you reach to grab toilet paper you just look at him, “Are you seriously gonna watch me wipe?”
“Yeah.” Jason says it so plainly, as if you asked if he wanted a cup of water.
“You’re such a freak.” You say with a shake of your head, finishing your business.
“It’s literally just pee, babe. I don’t care.” He argues. “Besides, you’re just as much of a freak as me. You’ve got no room to talk.”
“Look at us, a pair of freaks.” You’re beside him at the counter now washing your hands.
Jason doesn’t offer a reply, simply leans over to place a gentle kiss to your cheek.
~
“Jay, I’m plucking my eyebrows. Why are you so close to me.”
Your boyfriend slithered up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist while you leaned into the mirror for a better view.
“‘Cause I wanna be. Can’t I be close to my girl?” His words are muffled in your shoulder blade.
Sighing, truly not that upset, you mumble. “Okay.”
He stays curled up behind you as you finish your mission: making your eyebrows perfect. The entire time his face is either in your back or watching your reflection in the mirror as if you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. As if you aren’t making the most egregious faces trying to get the angle you need.
“So pretty, baby.”
~
“Okay, that’s it!” You scream out at Jason one day.
You’d walked into the bathroom 30 minutes ago to give yourself a pedicure. Soaking your feet in a warm bath with fancy products.
Jason has been sitting with you the whole time. Not saying a word, simply providing company while you both do your own thing.
When you’d pulled your feet out and began to dry them off, ready to trims your nails, Jason pulled the tools from your hands and dragged your feet into his lap.
That’s when you’d lost it.
“Why the hell are you trying to cut my fucking toenails, Jason Todd!”
His head whips up to look at you, deer in headlights look at your outrage. He makes no comment, looking confused.
“Doesn’t any of this get to you? Watching me piss and pop pimples and cut my damn ingrowns!” You feel insane. Surely this isn’t normal behavior. Not that you mind it, but why is he doing it?
You refuse to admit that deep down you worry all of this was gonna make him sick of you one day. That he’d see a flaw too closely, something about you that’s too real, and maybe he wouldn’t like it.
“Because it’s you.” His reply comes easy. Simple.
“What?” You’re slightly breathless. Chest previously heaving with bewilderment now struck with a deep wave of love for Jason.
“It’s just you, baby. I don’t care what you’re doing, I just wanna be with you. It’s not gross if it’s you. I want to help you with everything. If you’ll have me, that is.” As if to prove his point, he lifts your still damp foot up and places a kiss to your ankle.
“Jason, that’s- you.” You struggle for words. “That’s actually really fuckin’ sweet.” Tears start to form in your eyes as you take in his admission. “You really feel that way?”
“Remember the first time I opened up to you- the day we moved in together. Told you about how hard it might be to live with me?” Jason’s words are soft. You nod in affirmation.
“You told me, that loving me would never be hard. That no matter how much work it was, you’d never mind it because it was me.” His hands rub gently over your legs.
“It changed something for me, I dunno.” He mumbles, “Made me realize how you’ve never once balked or shied away from anything I ever showed you. How you’ve never made any part of me feel wrong. That’s what it’s like for me, too.”
The tears are falling freely now, warm salt dripping down your cheeks.
“I love you.” There’s nothing else you can think to say.
“I love you.”
“And here I was thinking you’re some freak.” You joke, tears still wetting your shirt.
synopsis: trusted with finding his heartbroken friend in a sex club, bakugou finds you instead.
warnings: nsfw, heavy exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fondling, grinding, kissing, mentions of oral (m receiving), public sex, everyone’s naked, everyone’s horny, they’re in a sex club, in my head this is set in germany, still somewhat cute because i am bfbkg
an: tumblr has me on a mature ban which is funny because this is very mature. let’s see if anyone gets this on their dash or if it’s in the tags xoxoxo
bakugou katsuki has stupid friends that make stupid choices.
“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that.”
“what? you gotta get more confident man, you look good. everyone’s gonna be naked in there,” kirishima chuckles, staring down his blonde friend even though they’ve seen each other naked more than they can count. changing rooms, missions abroad with one hotel room, even an undercover situation where they had to bathe outside in a river. kirishima’s voice turns to a whisper, clutching his clothing to his chest, “don’t turn around there’s naked people behind you.”
“fuck off,” bakugou grunts stepping in unison with kirishima in the queue to slide his clothing across the cloakroom desk. “i’m gonna kill sparky once we find him.”
“arm.” the attendant demands, this bored looking guy who’s probably seen more testicles this one night than bakugou has seen his own.
“for what?” bakugou spits and it only comes out rude because he’s nervous. he’s already had his phone snatched away at the door, which explains why kaminari hasn’t been replying to their texts and now he’s standing with his dick out before a clothed man.
“cloakroom number. you’ve got no pockets.”
bakugou blinks as kirishima chuckles, handing over his clothes and holding out the inside of his muscled arm. bakugou does the same, frowning when he gets a red stamp on his left wrist.
22.
“can’t believe you’ve been to this shithole before,” bakugou grunts. he can’t stop fixing his hair, rubbing his nose, then adjusting his dick. there’s no clothes to fiddle with or pockets to stuff his hands into.
he’s following kirishima down this smoky purple led lit hallway and he can hear bustles of conversation and slow jazz getting louder with every step.
“denks took me once last summer. it was fun, everyone’s so friendly and it’s definitely not a shithole. if anything it’s pretty freeing, very clean. nothing to hide.”
he’s got no clue what that’s supposed to mean, not until he follows behind kirishima through these red velvet curtains and analyses the scene before him.
there’s a minty smell in the air, a thick layer of smoke so you can only make out details of someone once they’re beside you. the room is coated in that same pale purple light with people everywhere. multiple body shapes, genders and the only accessories being earrings.
bakugou’s never had nudity before him at this amount. he knows his friends have taken part in threesomes, a few foursomes but bakugou’s only ever been intimate with two people in his life. sex has never been a focus, not when he was so busy with saving the world… and his drunk friend who’s somewhere wallowing about his ex girlfriend.
“some people have their fuckin’ underwear on. i coulda kept mine!” bakugou whispers in his red headed friend’s ear even nudging him in annoyance.
it’s intimating. there’s women lounging in sofas, legs crossed, legs spread. arms cuddling another in conversation. two women are making out against the wall, her fingers snaking down her stomach and stuffing into the others pussy.
bakugou’s eyes widen, swings around so his back is facing them.
only to be facing a woman straddling a man’s lap, kissing down his neck, wrist flicking between their bodies. he looks to the bar and there’s three men talking, one with his hand on the others lower back pinging at his underwear band. then the third pops a pill in his mouth and swallows it down with an orange liquid. the men giggle, a palm on a chest, a leg between another, a tongue in an ear and—
kirishima shrugs and bakugou can tell he’s not fazed by anything. in fact, he’s interested. looking at the lean man against the wall, swishing a drink by the stem of his glass. he chews down on his bottom lip once he locks eyes with him.
“okay, let’s split up, he last said he was at the back? incase he’s moved, you stay at the front.” kirishima orders, seemingly now in a rush to get everything sorted.
bakugou eyes the man who’s staring down his friend. then the man looks at him, gaze slinking down his body, his cock. winks. bakugou’s eyes go to golf balls.
“you’re gonna leave me?”
kirishima laughs, already ducking out of the conversation, “i’m sure you’ll be safe, bro. you’ll get hit on a few times just say whatever you usually say.”
“how the fuck are you gonna find me again?”
“this place isn’t that big. i’ll check upstairs.”
“there’s a fuckin’ upstairs?” bakugou mumbles to himself once kirishima disappears within the purple haze.
bakugou knows he could be paranoid but he can feel people staring at him. it’s unlike the usual stare he gets as a hero, fans impressed with his quirk, who have been following him for years and are excited to see him in the flesh. instead the stares he’s getting now, as he wanders through this faux house gathering are charged.
people are eying him like fresh meat, as if they can feel that this is his first time being naked in a public space. his anxiety smells good, only brewing arousal in these people.
a man ogles his arms like they’re chunks of chocolate. a woman stares straight at his cock and smiles when it twitches. he’s about to beg a security guard who stands in a suit at the door for his jacket until he remembers why he’s here.
to find his stupid fuckin’ friend who’s drunk himself in a sad stupor. nobody else here seems to be on that wave. chatting like they’re at a casual houseparty but lacking all their clothes.
bakugou circles one room, ignoring the whispers of two women sitting cross legged on the carpet. one is leaning on her hand behind her back, breasts out and perked.
“hey handsome,” she says and bakugou can only bring himself to nod.
he scatters into the next room. people making out on a sofa. a group of five are playing spin the bottle around the table. a woman with blonde hair is in heaven, moaning with her head flung back as everyone watches on. a few men touch themselves to it but pull away when another man springs from under the table, wiping his mouth.
“fuck, i’ve been wanting to do that!”
“spin the goddamn bottle, i wanna try!”
one of the guys notices him looking, “oi! wanna play? i think you're my friend’s type.”
bakugou doesn’t even bother to reply, glancing away with the snap of his head. one step forward and he bumps into a body.
soft and shorter than him. skin on skin, his hand brushing against a breast as he stabilises himself and clutches on your arm so you don’t fall in the process.
bakugou has to blink a few times to get his vision straight. just so he can be sure what he’s seeing is correct.
bakugou’s not sure what word to describe you but the first word that comes to mind is glittery. you’ve got a light glitter across your perfect chest, your arms, your— he stops once he sees a tuft of hair below your stomach. heat rises to his cheeks faster than ever before and he knows, he fucking feels the rush of blood to his cock.
you’re so fucking pretty.
“you’ve got glitter on me,” is the first thing he says but makes no move to wipe it off. instead he looks at that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, how smooth it looks. then, the plain gold hooped earrings in your ears and your shiny watery eyes. nothing about you is symmetrical, not the shape of your eyebrows or your breasts. your lips are luscious, clearly moisturised and he wonders if you’ve kissed anyone tonight.
bakugou katsuki has never met anyone naked for the first time. especially not the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. nothing could have prepared him for this. nothing kirishima prepped him about in the car, definitely nothing in his hero education.
you giggle, butter smooth, hands at your waist and your head cocked to the side like you’re analysing.
“gives something for people to remember me by,” you grin, your teeth are not perfect but your smile is so insanely adorable. bakugou steps forward. “it’s also a hack for any married men. their wives get to find out what they’re doing in the evenings.”
bakugou’s brows rise. “that’s smart.”
“yeah, it happens more than you think.”
bakugou inhales. it’s a little shaky when he takes in your citrus perfume and the mint that feels like it’s being pumped in the air. you must be able to tell how on edge he is right now, overwhelmed and even more so now with your presence. he’s grateful you don’t look past his adonis belt, because then you’d understand exactly how he’s feeling.
“can i touch you? you’re so built. i’ve never seen anyone who looks like you,” you murmur, transfixed by his body. your eyes dart across his pectorals, his brown nipples and then his abdomen. bakugou can’t distinguish whether it’s interest in a biological way or sexually. especially when you stare at the soft tissue pink scar right in the centre of his chest.
bakugou swallows a gulp of his spit. he’s supposed to be finding… they must be pumping pheromones in the air because somehow he’s willing to get on his knees in front of everyone and stuff his head between your legs.
“fuck,” he sniffs abruptly, “y-yeah, you can.”
the little “yay!” that tumbles through you surprises him, creates a whole new folder in his head of how you’re endearing. right beside how sexy you look.
you flatten both your palms on his pectorals first, causing bakugou to inhale sharply. his chest is falling and rising hastily just from that, from you being fucking pretty and naked and interested in him. you squeeze, lips in an o shape in shock.
“they’re softer than i thought. wow, you’re beautiful,” you say with a smile, thumbs brushing over his nipples. bakugou is forced to grip a bookshelf beside him. “you must be in the gym everyday.”
“n-not exactly,” he manages as your finger strokes the smooth scar on his chest, then the two darker brown fleshy scars at his side. they don’t hurt him anymore, haven’t hurt him for years but somehow you touching them so inquisitively has sparks flying through them. “i’m a…”
does he say his job? can you guess?
“you don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. maybe later.”
you draw your fingers across his eight pack, a finger dipping in every curve. he feels firm, hard, undoubtedly strong. like consistency, persistence and pain was needed to look like this. he doesn’t notice you press your thighs together but he does notice how you bite your lip when you finally gaze down at his cock.
leaking, red and prominent against his lower stomach.
“even your dick is pretty. where the hell are you from?” you laugh, “i’m surprised nobody has snatched you up yet.”
he wouldn’t want anyone to talk to him but you.
“i think you’re pretty, too.”
bakugou cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. how childish running around the sandpit to not catch cooties did that sound?
but again, to his surprise, you coo at him. your hands still haven’t left his body, pressing down on his sides, up to squeeze his shoulders. bakugou feels like he’s on fire, raging from unburied tension. he grits his teeth because he thinks he could come from you just touching his upper body, staring at him with your little smile.
“that’s so cute. thank you,” you reply honestly and bakugou gives a soldier like nod, “is this your first time here? you’ve got the first time nerves.”
“‘m not nervous,” but all the blood from his head is rushing right down to his crotch. you're massaging his shoulders now and bakugou is sure he’s about to loose stability in his knees.
“okay,” you don’t argue, “but it’s your first time?”
he wants to say he’s not a fucking virgin but he knows that’s not what you mean and it does feel like his first time all over again. definitely reminiscent of his first time watching pornography back in his room as a teen. over interested, horny but refusing to touch himself yet.
“yeah. my friends are here somewhere.”
it’s as if you’re magnetic, unable to take your hands off him. now they’re on his biceps, squeezing every couple seconds like you’re checking he’s still there.
“oh i know what that’s like. my first time here, i found my friend sucking this guy off less than half an hour in. she wasn’t even on anything.”
bakugou blinks, standing there dumbly like a mannequin that needs to be clothed. his cock aches.
“are you on anythin’?”
you shake your head, “no! my usual guy who i get stuff from isn’t here today, so just a few shots earlier.”
usual guy. this isn’t the place for him to feel jealous, it’s not, but he wonders if there’s anything you’d like him to give you. anything.
two girls and a guy walk past you and him, first acknowledging you with a little wave and giving him those same hungry eyes as everyone before. with his attention away from you, he realises how many people aren’t only staring at him but you. were people getting off on you touching him? there's a girl and guy on the sofa clearly talking about you, did they want you too? one of the men around the spin the bottle round table has an envious look in his eye and bakugou wasn’t sure if it was towards him or you. he shifts his body so that guy wouldn’t be able to see you.
“what’s your name?” bakugou asks. though he eyes your wrist.
a red stamped 47.
“yn,” bakugou’s not sure if you’re telling the truth. “you can touch me too if you want. i’d like it if you did.”
he didn’t come here to talk to women, he didn’t come here to fondle women, even if they’d like him to do so. kirishima has probably found kaminari right? they’re both grown ass men and kirishima has been here before. it’s fine.
you can sense the carousel of revolving thoughts in his head. so slowly, as if he’s a sensitive kitten that will run away at any loud noise, you remove your hands from his body and wrap them around his wrists. you drag his hands half an inch away from your chest. “it’s okay, i promise.”
there’s the space for him to decline, your grip loose so he can pull away. but he wants too, he just probably shouldn’t be.
“f-fuck,” he whispers, pressing his hands on your clavicle. you’re real, alive and letting him touch you. “if i touch you anymore, i will come and i can’t fuckin’ come like this.”
you frown playfully, a little laugh, “why not?”
bakugou stills, “what d’you mean? shit’s embarrassing, i need you to come first—,”
your hands are back on his wrists, sliding his palms down to the fat of your breasts. his hands are massive, able to grab both in a single hand. you exhale softly as if you just took a hit of endorphins.
“what’s your name?”
“katsuki.”
he doesn’t even have in him to lie.
“nothing is embarrassing here, katsuki. maybe if you fall flat on your face. that still applies.”
he squeezes your breasts, tender incase he hurts you. it only makes you step in closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “you’ve got such warm hands.”
bakugou’s thankful you’re cautious to not press your body into his cock. “i’ve never seen a woman like you.”
your eyes are fluttered shut once he starts to massage, glitter from your body transferring onto his palms. it’s all over his body too, like you both are born from the same star.
“i wanna take you home and squeeze you. you’re so adorable.” you whine, opening your eyes to give him a pout.
he doesn’t get this reaction from women, usually he’s the one in charge throwing them on a bed, kissing them first. he’s definitely never been called adorable or cute but you’ve got him tied around your finger, pressing for more attention.
“you guys look gorgeous together, by the way,” a rather pretty man says in passing and your smile beams.
“thank you, honey!”
then your attention is back on bakugou like you knew he was crumbling without you.
“you can pinch them if you want.” you offer, taking your fingers through the hair on his nape.
bakugou looks at his hands on your breasts. his hands are ugly he thinks. always too sweaty, scarred all over though he always keeps his nails clean and cut. they drown your body, your flesh spilling between each of his fingers.
“you’re so…,” he’s out of words to describe how angelic you are, rolling your perked nipple with the pad of his thumb. you’re so reactive, bubbles of light delighted exhales. when he pinches your left bud you moan and bakugou is forced to squeeze the base of his cock.
you laugh at the flush of red in his cheeks, his jaw sharp as he grits down. he’s taking heavy controlled breaths, looking up at the ceiling to calm himself down.
this man, katsuki, is stupidly gorgeous. walking around this event like he’s so unaware of himself. it’s what drew you to him. you’ve figured out pretty quickly that he’s ridden with anxiety, pent up with arousal and is so determined to not release.
“i’m sorry, katsuki. it’s not because of me is it?” your hand flies to your mouth, but the giggles spill out.
he should be embarrassed at your laugh at his clear inability to control himself over your naked body and touching your breasts. about to nut in a room full of people over some half-baked fondling. but he isn’t, it feels like you’re both in this together.
“‘course it’s ’cause of you. i just need to—,” he runs his hand up and down his shaft twice, before letting go. he blinks at you, your pointed nipples, your confident smirk. he wonders how you'd smell if he dipped between your legs. “i’m good now.”
as good as he can be in this situation. he’s fucked.
you give him an understanding nod, biting down your smile. “if you want, we can sit down. talk a little?”
you’re like a fairy. not those dainty petite ones out of those fairytales but a real, glowing one with your palm out for him to take. you almost feel like a figment of his imagination, like he’s suffering from object permanence if he isn’t touching you. he can’t tell if you’re laughing at him just a little bit, he’s not sure if he cares. he’s out of his depth here, getting whiplash with his limits adjusting by the second.
there’s no chance he’s having sex with anyone in public. he’d do anything you ask him to and you don’t even have to say please.
bakugou slides his palm into your smaller one and allows himself to gaze down your back as you drag him away somewhere. your back is smooth, curved and he imagines kissing down your spine. your ass, he glances away, then he looks back. two round globes that ripple with every step you make. he wants to see his fingers gripping your flesh, how it shakes when he slaps a cheek.
he glances at your face to find you smirking at the fact he was so clearly checking you out.
“s-sorry, it’s—,”
“you can look at me, katsuki. we’re all naked here.”
you stop him in front of an empty maroon leather sofa though there’s still other people in the room. a group of four playing a card game on a blanket. a compulsory couple making out on another sofa, always someone making out somewhere. he should be used to it now but beside that couple there’s a man with a man and a woman kneeling on the floor licking his dick.
bakugou rips his eyes away from the scene when you drop yourself into the sofa, sitting sideways with your legs curled. you perch your arm on the back of the sofa, head resting in your palm. you tap the space beside you.
“sit, gorgeous.”
he does because he can see your pussy when he stands. was there a shine there? is it because of him? bakugou flops down, apologising abruptly when the weight of him causes your side of the sofa to bounce.
“it’s okay, you’re a big guy after all,” you say, snuggling up close to him. your hand is back on his chest but he notices your eyes widen.
“what?”
your finger swipes at the precome that’s brushed at his abs from how slouched he’s sitting. you’re quick, eager, like you’ve been caught with your fingers in the peanut butter jar.
bakugou’s never been so hard in his life, his head is a bulging red though the colour dimmed down under the purple lights. he flings his head back on the chair but his hand finds your thigh. squeezes.
“you’re killin’ me. i didn’t expect this when i came here. i was supposed to be in and out.”
“that’s honest. you didn’t expect to be turned on in a room full of naked people.” there’s a moan in the background, a couple. “or you didn’t expect to find me?”
bakugou opens his eyes to look at you, you’re clearly more presentable than he is right now. his eyes are watery, pupils blown out like just taken something and he already looks like he’s been run through tonight. fucked in all types of ways. his lips are parted, staring at your smiling ones.
“you. i don’t even know what to say to you.”
he doesn’t know what’s appropriate in this context. with people fucking and sucking all around him, how honest can he be?
a gasp gets stuck in bakugou’s windpipe when your hand cradles his cheek, thumb brushing the blushed apple right under his eye. the movement presses your breasts together, has bakugou once again wondering how the hell you’re real right now.
“tell me what you’re thinking. your first thought.”
he feels as if he’s about to start salivating. he can see every one of your eyelashes, curled up and batting against your cheeks with every blink. your eyes are caring, looking at him softly like you know he needs to be looked after here, a little push of confidence. bakugou’s never been treated like this in his life.
“i wanna eat you out. feel you come on my tongue. so fuckin’ bad, i feel like i’m going insane.”
he notices your thighs press together now, how your body shivers, how you snuggle closer to him with your breasts against his bicep.
“hearing you say that is going to make me drip onto this sofa.” your voice is like silk, weaving in one ear and out the other.
bakugou’s hand slides from your thigh to your ass, pinching you roughly, arousal uncontrolled.
“i was thinkin’ how the fuck is everyone able to just fuck in public here and now i’m close to beggin’ you to let me. just a taste.” he can barely pronounce a consonant, all his words slurring together, drunk on everything you are.
“you sure you want to? you don’t have to,” but you’re just taunting him. you can see how much he wants to, if not in his eyes but in his raging cock slapped against his chest. you stretch a bare leg across his lap and this large, beautiful man moans for you.
this is probably your favourite type. hot and ready after some touching. wanting to please you just from the sight of you alone. definitely helps that he’s built like a god and looks as if he can back up whatever he puts down.
“please let me,” he groans and you watch as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “i’ll do it here, let me do it here for you.”
you don't say a word, laying back on the sofa and slowly opening your legs.
bakugou feels like he’s about to shut down. your shine catches the light, gloss covering your lips, trickling down to between your ass. you’re pretty everywhere and he can smell how much you need a release. his heart raps against his chest like he just finished a sprint and he grabs the base of his cock whilst gritting his teeth.
“fuck, sorry. i’m tryin’ so hard not to bust. i fuckin’ can’t.” he’s blubbering away, unable to take his eyes from between your legs. you’re so fucking pretty. “so perfect. where the fuck have you been all my life?”
you’re laughing again, propping up your head at the arm rest as bakugou adjusts his body to have his head between your thighs. you ruffle his hair, tugging it lightly before letting go.
“you’re so adorable. i knew you’d be good for me.”
that has bakugou dragging his eyes away from your pussy to your face. “i’m good for you?”
he isn’t the submissive one in sex, in his life. he takes control of everything, he’s the one telling others where to go and what to do and… here he isn’t. here he’s waiting for your next word and there’s a couple people watching it happen. fuck, more people are in the room now. sitting on other sofas, staring at him staring at you like you created the stars in the sky.
“yes katsuki, so good. you said you wanted me, have a taste.”
the permission has him purring like a new shiny engine, both his thumbs spreading you apart and bakugou feels rewarded. thick sweetness pouring from your hole and he’s quick to lap it up so it doesn’t get on the sofa. he can’t waste any of you, how disrespectful that would be. your exhales are bubbling with every lick bakugou makes, firstly careful like he’s testing the waters before he dives in.
he grips your thighs like a man starved, the first piece of meat he’s seen in days. then he starts to rock his face into you. messy like nobody taught the man any manners. licks stripes across you so everything’s contained, moans sending vibrations through you because you taste even better than he could imagine. a sweet tang, that has him rolling his eyes to the back of his head.
bakugou is so consumed by you, by taste, scent and sight, that he forgets about his own hard cock and the crowd that has formed.
“can i touch you—,” it’s another voice, one said to your katsuki but he’s busy.
“don’t touch him,” you bite, grinding your hips up into his mouth, back arching when he suctions his plush lips over your clit, “fuck, katsuki! you’re doing so well, baby. you’re going to make me come.”
bakugou’s too engrossed, focused on your sounds and words to guide him, to ensure he’s doing the best he can. but you notice, you notice the jealous eyes, the aroused ones, even the curious ones in the corner. there’s even word spreading round to other rooms of what’s happening, of this sexy newcomer that has his head between your thighs.
“she’s so hot, she’s never let me do that.”
“who is he… who are they? d’you think they’d want me as a third?”
“i’m getting hard again just watching this.”
everything here is lewd, this is a protected place for your wildest fantasies to come true. the attention only encourages your orgasm, the teary red eyes of this stranger dragging you to the edge.
“need you to come on my face,” he grunts like a raging beast, lifting up on his knees to push yours by your head.
he needs a better position, one to get right inside of you, have your orgasm stretch as long as possible.
you mewl at the burn in your thighs, but it’s welcomed as his wet prodding tongue circles your clit again and again before sucking harshly. he’s created his own rhythm. a paw clutches at your breast as he grunts, ruby eyes staring at you for a reaction.
“we’ve got ourselves fans, katsuki,” you whisper to him and he can tell you are close, eyes fluttering, almost completely gone.
he slips two fingers into you and pre from his cock leaks onto his chest at how wet you are. now, bakugou finally pays attention to all the eyes in the room with his mouth slick with you. the couple that were making out have pulled apart to stare at you. there’s a man running his fist up and down himself. there’s groups of people just watching, more coming in as his fingers pump in and out of you.
how the fuck has he gotten here? a new flush of heat floods him, pride at everyone seeing how well he treats you. that you’re moaning and wailing for him.
“you like everyone watchin’ you, huh? you want everyone to see how pretty you look when you come?”
you look delirious, biting down on your lip as you nod, trying to lock your knee around his neck to bring him back to you.
“yes. i want everyone to see me come because of you.”
he doesn’t understand a thing about right now, just that he needs to take you there.
so he does, loud squelches of his fingers curling along your walls and his lips sucking your clit like he needs it for his survival. your orgasm rocks through you, bursts of come seeping from your hole and bakugou tries his best to keep it in his fingers, clicking around them and grunting when some spills.
your body vibrates, legs tensing in the air as sweat gathers at your temples. you’re murmuring swears with whines and your grip on his head gets stronger to keep him there through your orgasm.
there’s multiple other moans through the room, conversation about you and katsuki but it’s gone mute as white flashes your vision. once bakugou’s sure he’s lapped you all up, sucked you completely off his fingers, he kisses your stomach lightly, fixated on the empty pulsing between your legs.
“you good? wasn’t too much?” he asks you as your chest falls and rises.
you can barely manage to lift yourself up so you take his hand, “loved it. i knew you’d be good with your mouth.”
you still notice the urgency in his eyes so you look over at his cock, about to reach for it.
“you both are hot. mind if i join?” a man with dark hair, toned.
“no. fuck off,” bakugou snarls, lifting you up so you’re wrapped under an arm, tucked to his side. “you’re lucky we’re lettin’ you even watch.”
your smile blooms, awarding bakugou with kisses along his shoulder, a soft bite where his neck meets. “it’s your turn now, katsuki. need to take care of you before you pass out on me.”
you’re both sitting so intimately. you look exhausted after your orgasm and your skin is tacky with sweat against his. yet he holds you tight, skin to skin, your arms circling his neck.
“you don’t have to. i can sort this at home,” he doesn’t know why he says this. is he being polite? he’s now aware of the eyes around him. some people have dispersed since he stopped eating you out. others now just littered around the room.
“no,” you whine, a kiss on his jaw. he’s yet to kiss your lips. “i want to make you come. want to say thank you.”
your face is a few inches from his, hanging onto him like a koala. he’s committing this all to memory, the red printed 47 on your wrist. how your eyes are glassy like you owe him more than just an orgasm. how you gripped his hair once you noticed how many people were watching.
“can i kiss you?” his fingers run down your sides.
“so cute,” you whisper against his lips, sliding onto his open mouth and thrusting your tongue inside.
the kiss is amazing, sexy. has your hips moving against his side without warning. you can feel his boost of confidence as he sucks on your tongue, tilting his head to get deeper down your throat. he bites down on your bottom lip, hating to be away from you for a second before his lips land on you again. he tastes like you and something sweet and it’s all effortless as he begins to push you back down onto the sofa, thick forearms by your head so he can begin to grind between your sensitive legs.
bakugou doesn’t last long at all, he knows he wouldn’t be able to. as your legs wrap around his waist, all he wants is a pussy job. to feel you wet and soaked around his cock. but three thrusts from you with your tongue in his mouth and bakugou bursts all over your chest. his groan is incredible, has you clinging onto him in necessity.
it’s one jolt of come, then his face goes slack, grunts of “fuck, couldn’t stop myself.” hating how he couldn’t go on for longer, even though he’s been burning since he saw you.
“it’s okay baby, it’s all for me. i love that it’s all for me,” you say to him, working him through his weak thrusts as he’s unable to even kiss you, just transferring his hot breath into your mouth. another jolt and his seed pours. “you’re so sexy. i’ve missed you.”
that makes bakugou laugh, his come gathering in your tummy button, under your breasts and through the hair on your mound. “i’ve fuckin’ missed you too. where have you been?”
bakugou’s barely conscious as he lays beside you out of breath and out of any will to move.
“sorry, i know i’ve made a mess—,”
you tut, but you only mean it sweetly when he glances over at you, “stop apologising. there’s wipes and tissues under the chair.”
“that was so sexy, if you guys are ever looking for two more—,”
“no!” you and katsuki blurt, “we’re good.”
as the girl walks away, bakugou sighs delightfully, reaching for the pack of wipes to clean up.
“wait, wait,” you say, scooping up his come from your stomach on your finger and stuffing it in your mouth.
bakugou stares with a slacked jaw, reaching over to kiss the corner of your lips as you swallow.
“are you gonna let me see you again? maybe out of here?”
you cock your head to the side as he wipes over your stomach, then your thighs.
you take longer than needed to reply, enough time for bakugou to mumble, “please?”
“what the fuck!? there you are!” kirishima bustles in, stomping over with kaminari behind him still looking heartbroken but now considerably more interested in whatever's just gone down. “no way, kacchan? seriously?”
kirishima’s eyes flicker over you still laying on the sofa as bakugou wipes you down, very obvious about everything that’s happened.
“good for you man,” he says solemnly, slapping his hand on bakugou’s shoulder.
“kacchan?” you ask.
“short for katsuki,” he says into your hair and there’s something inside you that bursts in delight that he trusted you with his actual name.
“this is yn,” he blurts, knocking his head with yours. the fuck is he supposed to do, caught just having sex in a sex club with a beautiful woman by his two friends, “she’s sweet.”
kaminari laughs wetly, “course she is. how did he find someone and i lost someone. the love of my life.”
“sorry about him. still distraught. i found him asleep upstairs—,”
“then i woke up to him sucking off this guy—,”
“shut up,” kirishima whines.
“was it that same guy we saw when we walked in?” bakugou asks and he’s met with a slow nod, that becomes a small smile in remembrance.
the dynamic of katsuki and his friends wasn’t what you expecting. you weren’t sure what you were expecting really, but it wasn’t this. light laughter between them both, all three of them jacked and muscled like they have the same hobbies.
“anyway we’re heading out now, you coming with kacchan? or you wanna stay with yn here?”
bakugou looks to you. he wants to be anywhere you are. maybe do more with you, talk to you. find out what you do for work, your dreams, your family. he wants to touch you in his bedroom, without a crowd.
“i’ll meet you at the cloakroom in fifteen.”
with two waves to you, you look over at bakugou with a pout. “you’re leaving?”
“you can come with me? this isn’t my thing,” he looks around the room, “not at all. but i wanna spend more time with you. maybe outta here?”
it’s the same nervousness from earlier but instead of coming out jumpy, he’s unable to make eye contact, hands unable to leave your thighs.
“okay… i’ll say goodbye to a few people and meet you outside?”
bakugou doesn’t hide his shock at you agreeing. he was expecting push back, this being a once in a lifetime situation where he meets the most beautiful girl of his dreams and never again. but you rise to your feet, taking his hand like you’re helping him up.
on your tiptoes, you kiss his cheek, “i’ll be quick okay?”
he shakes his head, “take your time.”
with kirishima and kaminari clothed an seated at the front of the car, bakugou sighs for the fifth time.
“it’s been ten minutes bro, she said she will come, she’s coming,” kaminari says through the window, his eyes closed. “you won’t be let down. not like i was.”
bakugou stands leaning with his arms crossed against the car, kicking a rock.
“maybe she doesn’t notice you without your dick out,” kirishima laughs, which only makes kaminari laugh too.
“fuck off, we all had our dicks out—,”
“you know you’ve got glitter on your neck?”
“sorry for taking so long, they couldn’t find my clothes!”
you look completely different yet completely the same, under the harsh yellow streetlight compared to the fuzzy purple haze from the club. you look real, beautiful, in reach for him to kiss with a clear head. and clothed, you’re adorable. dressed nothing like the minx that enjoys having an audience when she orgasms.
you’ve got a fluffy striped jumper on and baggy denim blue jeans with your bag over your shoulder. you look like you’re dressed to do a food shop, a student going to university. fuck… he cannot even wrap his head around the fact he came over your chest a mere half an hour ago.
“you look adorable,” he blurts and you give him a grin, stuffing your hand in his face.
“shut up katsuki, that’s my word for you,” though he only grabs your wrist, kissing the faintly stamped 47.
he continues holding it when you peep your head to the open window to his friends. “thanks for dropping me off guys!”
“no problem!”
bakugou opens the back door for you, “d’you wanna come back to mine?”
he asks before you get in and like before, there’s an extra second pause. then, “are you going to tell me what you do for work?”
“he’s a pro hero, we all are,” kaminari groans, his hangover settling in as well as his urge to go home.
your eyes widen, your hand back on his chest like feeling him will reveal the truth. he’s now coated in a plain black tshirt. “oh wow.”
“guys we really can be horny in the car instead of outside. get in.” kirishima says and it’s a quick scramble of you sliding in and then bakugou after.
it’s inevitable, an attempt to be appropriate but straying from it at every corner.
another kiss shared in the backseat between you saying how many siblings you have, bakugou gripping your thigh as he says where he grew up. kaminari sharing an embarrassing tidbit about bakugou growing up and bakugou threatening to snap his neck. then the blonde apologises to you for saying that while kaminari whines in the background.
when kirishima drops you and bakugou outside of his skyrise apartment the only thing you can think to say is, “you’re a really good friend.”
bakugou huffs a laugh, slinging his arm around your shoulders, “not really. i was eatin’ you out when i shoulda been lookin’ for him.”
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for another part. thanks xox
You fiddled with your shirt while Jason pressed himself harder into your back as one of his hands laced with yours and his free arm wrapped around your waist. He had been overprotective a lot recently and you had been trying to figure out why for the longest of time. You hadn’t told him that you were pregnant yet, but you were beginning to think that he already knew based on how he was acting.
“What has gotten into you?”
You asked, amused. He was completely draped around you like a cape at this point. Jason didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply buried his face in your neck and breathed. Jason loved you so much. He kissed your neck sweetly.
“Is it a crime to love my wife?”
Jason asked with a teasing tone. His voice was muffled by your neck, but you heard him clearly. You were nervous to tell Jason that you were pregnant, but you knew you had to eventually. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Before you could stop yourself, you said,
“I have something to tell you, babe.”
Jason’s travelling hands stilled. You couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing, but you certainly had his attention. He seemed to be waiting for you to continue before saying anything. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you managed to continue softly,
“I… I’m pregnant…”
Jason froze. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised, he had figured this out three weeks ago, but he was shocked how nervously you told him. He was a little sad that you were scared to tell him. You toyed with his fingers nervously, looking down anxiously. Jason kissed a trail up your neck to your ear and murmured warmly,
“You aren’t alone in this.”
You shivered but your body sagged in relief and a smile slowly spread across your face. Jason’s hand moved from around your waist to lightly touch your abdomen as if he was already imagining what his future with you would look like and forming plans that his brain had not let him think before. You mumbled to him,
“I don’t want to tell anyone else yet. Not until the first trimester is over.”
You didn’t even want to think about your pregnancy and you knew that both his and your family would be overbearing. Jason agreed immediately and pulled you carefully closer. You leaned back into his strong chest with a smile. Jason asked softly,
“How far along are you?”
You looked at his hand that was cradling your abdomen like it was precious. Jason held you a little bit tighter and smiled fondly. Your eyes softened as you tilted your head back to look at him. You told him,
“Seven weeks.”
Jason kissed a trail from your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, then finally landed on your lips. You enjoyed the slow and tender kiss lazily. Jason had you pressed against his chest with his hand moving back to your waist.
Jason tried not to let his excitement build too highly, but he couldn’t stop it. He had never thought about having a family of his own. He never thought he could be part of a healthy and happy family, but you were giving that future to him.
“We have to pick a name.”
Jason finally said once the kiss was broken. You gave him a smile filled with warmth that he was excited to see every day. Jason looked at your stomach with a love that you had not expected so soon. He kissed your forehead again. You placed your hand over his and said softly,
“We have time. Let’s enjoy the moment while we have it.”
Jason debated whether or not he should argue with you about how being prepared would make you enjoy the pregnancy for far longer than if you were stuck panicking for a name in the final trimester. He decided to let it go this time, but he already had some ideas.
“I’m going to be a dad.”
He whispered in awe. Jason suddenly had the urge to cry. His brain finally settled down and came to terms with what you had just revealed to him. Jason had never been more sure of anything when he married you, and now you were giving him a future he had never considered. You turned around in his arms and said softly,
“And I’m going to be a mom.”
It was an unexpected pregnancy, but not unwanted by any means. Joy vibrated in the air like a rung bell. Jason’s arms squeezed around you as the realisation fully settled in. He was going to be a dad! Jason couldn’t believe it. He was crushed under the happiness that the news made him. Jason could already picture it in his head. He was worried that he was going to be a bad dad, but he also knew that you would get on his case if he started slipping into bad habits. He loved you more and more every second.
“You run the show now, mama.”
Jason said in a lighthearted tone. You gently shoved Jason. He rather dramatically fell down, dragging you with him. You squeaked as you fell with him. He was very careful to keep your descend controlled and smooth as you landed on his chest.
“I guess that’s better than being called mommy…”
You grumbled in a disgruntled tone. Jason laughed so loud that someone banged on the wall in the apartment next door. There was a muffled,
“People are trying to sleep, asshole!”
They clearly did not know who Jason Todd was because that only made him laugh louder while you half-heartedly whacked his chest with the back of your hand. You shook your head and said,
“If you turn our child into Robin 2.0, I’m going to Zatanna to turn you into a dog like what happened to your brother.”
That got Jason to finally quiet down. You snickered and he lightly flicked your nose in response. You cuddled into Jason with your head landing on his chest. You weren’t excited in the slightest to tell the family, but you knew that Jason had your back and that would be more than enough.
Summary & CW: Suggestive (MDNI), hand job (?)…. & dirty talk(?), song fic (e85 by don toliver), pushing my biker!jason propaganda, cursing, no use of y/n, Jason POV
Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
A/N: PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME! Another piece out the Kiln! Thank you to @akusuincoffee for requesting! Im so sorry it took me this long I literally listened to this song a million times trying to get inspo for it LMFAO, as always I hope you enjoy my lovelies (only one piece lefttttt)
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
The only thing he could focus on was the sound of your laugh over the wind, it was something sweet and bright. The cadence was so divine, he couldn’t help himself but smile under the helmet.
Jason finally had a night off that coincided with one of yours. Not wasting the opportunity, you both decided to go on one of your famous night rides. It reminds you of the earlier days, when neither of you had money save for a tank of gas and a greasy burger your stomach would hate you for later.
The second he called you to give you the good news, you did all but cry your phone. He had to pull the phone away from his ear at the sound of your squealing, Bruce raised an eyebrow at him when he heard your voice through Jason’s busted speaker.
Night rides were a lost art in your opinion. There was something so beautiful about having the wind rushing past you, the thrill coating your stomach from the bike, and music blaring in your ears.
Jason could feel every part of your body on his back. Considering the fact that all you wore was that romper of yours, not much was left for the imagination. He felt all your warmth bleeding in through his cotton t-shirt, and he’d never been more grateful for opting for a thinner one. The feeling of your arms against him, legs parallel to his, your front on his back, it was perfect. He could never ask for anything more.
The giggles escaping your lips were sounds of pure joy- he’d drown in the sound if he had the chance. If the bubbling feeling that arose in him at of your laugh was what awaited him for the remainder of eternity, he wanted forever to start tomorrow.
Your chin rests on his left shoulder, helmets bumping occasionally as he weaves through cars on the New Jersey highways. Jason wasn’t one for patience -hell, was famous for lacking it- but he’d sit through every batch of traffic this state cursed him with, so long that you were at his side.
Finally seeing the exit sign, he cuts over to the right lane and for once, the exit is empty. This part of Gotham looks like a ghost town, stranded even. There’s no cars, no bikes, no people hanging out on the corner.
Just you, him, and a red light.
After about thirty seconds, his head turns left, right, then left again before mumbling, “I could just run it.”
“Jason Peter Todd,” you pull back from his shoulder to slap him upside the head, “you are not going to be running a red light. Waiting two more minutes isn’t going to kill you.”
“And how would you know? Maybe I want to try death by car, I’ve done it by bomb,” his voice is so annoyingly matter-of-fact, you’re tempted to fall for the ragebait.
“Fine. Be my guest and run it,” you huff already pushing off him, “but just so you know that if you do, I’m hoping off the bike and walking my ass home.”
“Babyyyyy” he draws out the vowel, whining almost.
Your arms are crossed over your chest, and he tilts his head back so his helmet kisses yours. You don’t make another noise, letting the honks of the highway behind you both speak for you. Another minute passes and the light doesn’t change from red.
He scoffs and leans forward again and this time, you lean with him. Your arms wrap around his midsection, but only for a moment. He tries -really he does- to not think too hard on how your right hand starts traveling down. e tries
“Doll,” his voice cracks with hesitation.
You merely hum back as your hand rests over his jeans, feeling the erection he’s failing to hide. Heat flushes his cheeks and he’s suddenly grateful for the polarized cover the helmet provides. Shifting slightly in the small seat, your hand squeezes a miniscule amount and he groans.
“Princess,” he’s breathless, “what’re you doing?”
“Nothing baby,” you sound so innocent, as if you weren’t getting him off at a light, “just focus on the road.”
He thinks he’s going to be strangled. His hands start white-knuckling the handlebars of the motorcycle while you palm him through his jeans. The worst part about it all- you talked him through it.
“You’re doing so good for me,”
“Just a little longer,”
“Oh my pretty boy,”
That last one almost has him creaming in his pants. He’s no longer leaning forward on the bike but rested against you. His head thrown back on your shoulder, staring at the stars as heaven reaches him at this exit. His breaths are heavy and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so aroused.
“Hey Hood?” Dick’s voice rings through his helmet, solidifying his veins to ice.
Never in this second life, has he been cockblocked this bad. If Dick ever connects himself to his comm system without asking again, he’ll shoot him for real that time.
“There goes the moment,” you snicker to yourself, moving your hand back up his torso much to Jason’s dismay.
He has to clear his throat before responding with a “Yeah?”
“You’ve been at that intersection for a while,” he sounds concerned, but there’s amusement lingering in it, “you know that light’s been busted since Monday right?”
Summary: you come home, very drunk, and see a very hot guy sitting on your couch… so naturally you ask him out!
It starts with a simple, high-pitched gasp in the middle of your living room.
Jason is sitting on the couch in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, laptop on his knees, mid-snack, when you stumble through the front door. You’re wearing one of his oversized jacket slung over your shoulders, your cheeks flushed red from two too many margaritas with your friends, and your hair a complete, chaotic masterpiece.
He sets his laptop aside immediately, a half-amused, half-concerned smirk already forming on his lips. "Hey, sweetheart. How was girls' night—"
He doesn't get to finish. The moment your eyes land on him, your hands fly to your face, covering your red-hot cheeks. You freeze in place, staring at him through your fingers as if you’ve just spotted a celebrity in a coffee shop.
"Oh," you whisper loud enough for the whole apartment complex to hear. "Oh my god."
Jason blinks, pausing. "What?"
You kick off your shoes—completely missing the rack—and take three deliberate, overly cautious, drunk steps toward the couch. Your eyes are wide, glassy, and completely starstruck.
"Who are you?" you ask, leaning over the back of the couch, resting your chin on your folded hands. You beam at him, giggling softly. "Because you are... so pretty. Like so hot. Has anyone ever told you that? You look like a whole movie star."
Jason slowly looks down at his faded t-shirt, then back up at you. A playful glint flickers in his blue eyes as the reality hits him: You have completely forgotten you're already dating him.
"A movie star, huh?" Jason drawls, leaning back against the cushions and crossing his arms over his chest. He bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. "Can't say I hear that one often. I'm Jason."
"Jason," you sigh, the name rolling off your tongue like a melody. You sway slightly where you stand, blushing down to your collarbone. "That's a nice name. I'm... well, you know. I'm me."
"Nice to meet you, Me," he says softly, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register he knows makes you melt. "What's a girl like you doing flustered in my living room?"
"I live here! I think?" You look around the apartment, thoroughly confused for a split second, before your focus snaps right back to him like a magnet. You lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "Listen... I know this is crazy, but... are you single?"
You pause, then giggle, “wanna know a secret? I actually wanna marry you but I think asking you if you’re single is less advanced.”
Jason bites his lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide a massive grin. "Am I single? Well... that's a tough question."
Your face falls instantly into a dramatic, adorable pout, and you genuinely look devastated. "Oh no. You have a girlfriend?"
"I do," Jason says softly, watching your reaction.
"Is she pretty?" you ask, sniffling just a little bit, clearly heartbroken.
"She's gorgeous," Jason says, his voice softening. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist gently, and pulls you over the back of the couch until you tumble right onto his lap. You gasp, your hands landing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "She’s got this ridiculously cute laugh, gets super giggly when she drinks, and is currently sitting on my lap looking at me like I hung the moon."
You stare at him, your brain slowly churning through the alcoholic fog.
1... 2... 3 seconds pass.
"Wait," you whisper, your eyes going wide. "I just drank and I am fairly giggly."
"You are."
"And I'm on your lap."
"You are."
"...I'm the pretty girlfriend?!"
Jason couldn't hold it back anymore; he threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through his chest against your palms. "Yes, dummy. You're the pretty girlfriend. We've been together for over a year."
A look of pure, unadulterated triumph washes over your face. You kick your feet up, burying your burning face right into the crook of his neck, muffled giggles spilling out against his skin. "I scored so hard," you mutter into his collar. "He's huge and he's mine."
"Yeah, yeah, you hit the lottery," Jason chuckled, his broad arms wrapping snugly around your waist, pulling you close so you wouldn't slide off. He kissed the top of your head, resting his chin on your hair. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water and into bed before you try to ask me out again."
"Wait!" You pop your head back up, cheeks still bright red, poking his chest with a single finger. "So... does this mean you won't go on a date with me?"
Jason shook his head, a soft, fond smile softening his rugged features. "I'll take you on a date every single day of the week, sweetie. Now go to sleep."
summary: you call him as your husband when you are still dating.
pairing: Jason Todd x reader
tags and warnings: talks of marriage, haven't written for Jason in a while so here it is! Maybe OOC, also cooking and food mentioned, art by @/ciricearts
wc: 1.1k
Jason Todd mlist
It's a quiet afternoon as you sit on the marble counter, legs swinging side to side while Jason slices some tomatoes next to you. Golden streaks of sun seep in through the window, casting circles of yellow across the linoleum flooring and wooden shelves stacked with cutlery.
You had been explaining to him the plot of a 90s TV show you had stumbled upon while browsing during the late hours of the night.
"So the female lead, she decides to go to his house — ugh, I keep forgetting his name "
"Jerry." Jason murmurs, eyes focused on the bowl of ingredients in front of him. Regardless of what work Jason was doing, he always listened to you when you spoke. It almost felt like it was his duty to catalogue every word that left your lips. And he performed that duty to the best of his abilities. It did not matter if he was in the middle of a mission or doing the mundane tasks of living — Jason listened.
Always listened.
"Ahh yes, Jerry, " you repeat, looking up at him with a slight smile that curves into a scowl as you gather your thoughts about the plot. "now Gabriela should dump Jerry's ass, right?"
"Yes," Jason affirms as he takes in your face, painted with annoyance.
Cute.
"But instead she begs him, like what the actual fuck ? Why do these directors even —" the vibration of your phone against the counter cuts your rant short, a wide smile replacing the frown on your face.
"It's Zara."
A few minutes into the conversation, Jason can see you hunched over, giggling about something that your best friend told you over the phone. Meanwhile, Jason had finished making the paste and, almost as a reflex, scooped a spoonful of the paste and brought it to your mouth.
His hand is under the spoon, making sure the red doesn't fall on any of your clothes. He had already made sure it was not too hot by blowing over it multiple times. You open your mouth as the stainless steel presses against your tongue, coating it with red. Jason looks at you, eyes wide with hope and lips pressed into a line.
You hum, squeezing your eyes before kissing your fingertips and moving them away towards him with a spread of your fingers accompanied by a dramatic flair.
Chef's kiss.
Jason huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he starts prepping the pan on the stove. The sudden sound of sizzling onions next to you has Zara asking whether you were at some street food corner.
"No, It's just my husband —"
You wished he hadn't listened to the slip of your tongue over the sound of his cooking but Jason always listens and you knew he had heard when you saw his entire body going still.
His back is turned away from you, broad back covered in black cotton with a spatula in hand as it remained stuck in the air, just a touch from the pan. You don't do any better as you get off the counter and scamper into your shared bedroom, all the while Zara is giggling in your ears.
It was not that Jason did not want to be your husband.
No, it would really be his honor.
But Jason Todd was not completely beyond his insecurities.
Why would anyone want to be with him for a lifetime out of their own will?
You were not one of his siblings who were obligated to be with him as a reason of familial relationship, nor were you part of his team of outlaws who possessed a shared goal.
You had been someone he had fallen in love with at the bookstore.
Was he even worth everything?
"Jason."
He turns at the soft whisper of his name. There you were, standing with your hands rubbing against each other as those angelic eyes of yours refused to meet his. You had cut the call short once the panic had morphed into fear. Zara had understood and reassured you, but your heart wanted the answer from only one person.
"I-I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, " you murmur, eyes blinking rapidly at the tears forming along your waterline. Both of you had only been dating for a year now but it would be a lie if you never thought about the prospect of marriage with Jason.
They say you know the one when you meet them.
He was the one for you.
But you never voiced it. It had been a slip of the tongue, something you wish you could take back if it had made him even a tiny bit uncomfortable.
"No angel," He takes your hands, rubbing smooth circles onto your skin over the back of your palm. "I-You want to spend the rest of your life with me?"
Jason almost doesn't let the words slip out from him, throat dry like all the moisture had been sucked. His green eyes gleam like those of the vast forests under the soft golden light of the sun. They murmur to you of peace, of love, of eternity.
"I would gladly spend every minute with you Jason. Every waking moment with you," you vowed as you peer at him, "and every non-waking moment too in my dreams." Jason chuckles, a faint glow surrounding him like love emanating from the previously filled crevices of nervousness.
Jason envelopes you, the softness of your cheek pressed against his beating heart. His chin is on the top of your head as you see the slight movement of his Adam's apple, almost like he was trying not to cry.
For the first time, someone who had no moral duty to Jason wanted to stay with him forever.
For eternity.
All because you loved him for him.
He presses a small kiss against the top of your head, gently pulling you even more closer, like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.
"I will gladly spend a lifetime with you too, my love"
Jason could feel the curve of your smile, tracing against his black t-shirt. The both of you stay wrapped in each other's presence like a warm blanket accompanied by the smell of something burning — burning?
"Jason, I think something is burning, " you say, trying to peek through the gaps of his muscled arms, but to no avail. He only lets out a contented sigh, still blissfully bathing in your warmth. You pinch his skin, a sharp yelp resounding from his mouth.
" SOMETHING IS BURNING."
Finally, Jason lets you go as you both turn towards the source of the smell. The once sizzling onions were now burnt to a crisp.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: roy calls you at 2 am, apparently jason is drunk and needs you
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 1.1k words, none, fluff, CRACK, sort of part 2 for this, roy is there too, 1 sexual comment, not edited just proof-read 🚬
<𝟑: art creds to @quezartt
You’re currently wearing one of Jason’s Gotham U hoodies (you suspect it’s not actually Jason’s) that reaches down to your legs, along with your winter boots. Aside from that, you’re wearing your pyjamas and nothing else.
You’re absolutely freezing your ass off, and by the time you barge into the club Roy sent you the address to, you swear you’re on the verge of hypothermia.
You would’ve told him to fuck off because it’s literally two a.m. But he called with Jason’s phone, and told you to come right now.
You need to come. It’s Jason.
Your heart absolutely stopped for a second. What? You can’t even hear your own voice.
He laughs. Nothing serious. He’s just worried you’re hungry.
Huh? Your voice is still raspy from sleep.
Just come.
So now you’re here, climbing the stairs to the VIP lounge. And it’s just your luck that someone is guarding the door.
He scans you up and down, then shuffles a bit closer to block the entrance.
"Hi, um, my friends are inside waiting for me."
He raises a brow. "Sure.”
"Yeah," you insist. "Roy and Jason—"
His face falls. "You’re Jason’s girl?"
"Sorry?" You blink twice. "What do you mean—"
But you’re interrupted for a second time. You frown and check your phone again, to see if there are any missed calls. There’s not.
The man turns around and taps his earpiece. A moment later, he spins back to you, smiling brightly. "You can absolutely come in." He opens the door for you. "Jason’s girl."
You mumble a thanks, still very weirded out by the whole experience.
The second you step inside, all eyes snap to you. Granted, there are only five other people besides Roy and Jason, but it’s still very weird for everyone to be tracking your movements and whispering to each other.
You ignore the stares and make your way to the boys’ table in the corner of the room. Just where Jay would’ve chosen it— away from any potential threats.
"Roy! Jason!" you call.
Jason is rambling to Roy, waving his hands around and smiling brightly. But the second he hears you, his whole body freezes. Even his hands stop mid-gesture. His pretty green eyes immediately start scanning the room until they land on you.
And then he waddles. He waddles toward you. His movements are clumsy as he tries to grab you, nearly walking straight into a decorative plant.
"Baby!"
You catch him just as he’s about to collapse on top of you. Struggling to support his weight, you try to steady him.
He lets you. Then he picks you up.
He kisses you on the nose, and all you can do is blink in confusion before he throws you over his shoulder.
"Jason?" you whisper-yell. "Put me down right now."
"Nuh-uh." He sounds smug. "Can’t."
The world flips again as he plops you down beside him on the velvet couch. Now you’re sandwiched between the two of them.
You look at Roy, raising a brow. "What did you even give him?"
He smirks, raising his hands innocently. "He said he could handle it."
Jason is playing with your hair. He tugs on a strand before curling it around his index finger.
"Why is everyone looking at us?"
Roy laughs, bright and loud. "Jason couldn’t stop telling everyone about you. The cocktail guy, the—"
"Bouncer?"
He snaps his fingers. "Yeah." Roy grins. "You know, I thought he'd eventually run out of facts."
You blink. "Facts?"
"Oh, yeah." He starts counting on his fingers. "You brush your teeth for ten minutes— you’re a psycho for that, by the way. You like your toast overly done. You cry at movies, even if they’re not sad. He’s dissected the meaning of all of your favourite songs...”
You’re too dumbfounded to properly answer. Roy continues.
"You apparently have the prettiest smile in the tri-state area."
Jason nods solemnly. "It's true."
Roy whistles. "He's got it bad."
Jason is still playing with your hair. "You’re so pretty."
You turn to him with a smile, brushing his cheek softly. He immediately nuzzles into your touch. "Not as much as you."
He shakes his head. "No, no. You’re ridiculously pretty. Sometimes"— he drops his voice, as if you’re sharing some great secret—"when you smile, I forget how to think. Or when you do anything, really."
He wraps an arm around your waist until there isn’t even an inch of space between you. You can feel every line of his body, the hard muscle beneath his clothes. "My pretty, pretty girl."
You place a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, Jay."
"And you also make me really hard."
Roy’s laughter is impossible to ignore. He slams a hand on the table, wheezing as he mumbles something between fits of laughter. You see him fumble for his phone out of the corner of your eye.
"Yesterday, for example, when you—"
"Jason," you say sternly.
His face falls. "Don’t be mad at me." He’s frowning now, his big green eyes glossy and wide.
You cup his face. "I’m not angry, baby."
"Oh, okay." He nods slowly. "I’m sorry I told Roy you snore."
"I do not—"
Roy nudges your shoulder. "According to Jason, you do."
Jason nods matter-of-factly. "When I can’t sleep, I listen to you breathe. So yeah. You snore."
Your heart pounds in your chest, steady and hard. You want to kiss him. Not just his lips. Everywhere.
Because who decided kisses on the lips were the most intimate? You’d kiss every scar, every freckle, every crook of his beautiful body. You want to worship him with kisses.
"And you make me soup," Jason continues, completely oblivious to the look of pure love on your face.
Roy blinks. "Okay?"
Jason sighs dramatically. "Not canned soup. Actual homemade soup she spends time and effort making."
"Congratulations.”
He rolls his eyes. "You don’t get it." Then his eyes find yours, unwavering. "But you do. You get me, and you love me."
"Of course I do, Jay.” You smile softly.
Jason smiles before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes flutter shut as you run your fingers through his hair. "You’re my definition of an angel."
The next morning, Jason wakes up with a killer hangover and his entire body wrapped around you.
Then he bumps into Roy in the kitchen. He dies of embarrassment the second Roy holds up his phone to show him something.
The video shows nothing but the club ceiling, dim lighting, and red velvet. The audio, however, is crystal clear.
What if she’s hungry?
Jason physically cringes at the sound of his own whiny, worried voice. He’s never drinking again. Roy is barely holding in his laughter, the phone slightly shaking.
She’s an adult, man.
She forgets to eat. There’s a frustrated grumble. I can’t unlock my phone. Stupid numbers. A brief shuffle. The password is her birthday. You call her.
Jason wants to crawl into the Lazaurs Pit and disappear.
ㅤꨄ︎ Nanami catches his pregnant wife ransacking the kitchen at 3am. (Fluff)
Nanami lazily rubs his tired eyes as he sits up on his bed, sheets pooling at his lap. He looked at the time. 3:23 am. Why is he awake at an ungodly hour?
His light haze is interrupted by what sounds like a raccoon rummaging through the pantry downstairs and the loud rustling of wrappers. He looks at the spot on your side of the bed where you should be. Empty, of course.
He swings his long legs over the bed and pads downstairs, his bare feet quiet against the cool wooden boards. The rustling of plastic, the thudding of cabinet doors, and soft chewing get louder as he approaches the kitchen.
He squints as he tries to make out the round figure in the dark shadows of the kitchen; the thin stream of moonlight through the kitchen’s small window faintly outlines your face.
“Honey, what the hell are you doing this late?” He flicks the light on, both of your faces scrunching up by the sudden brightness of the room after a long period of only darkness.
He sees his wife, you, standing by the fridge in his old dark blue button-up long-sleeve shirt big enough to cover your pregnant belly, a cold half-eaten pizza in one hand, while the other holds half a ham sandwich. His gaze pans to the cluttered counter laid with a slice of bread with Nutella slapped on it, a half-eaten bag of Doritos, a ham package, an empty soda can, a bitten apple, and an old pizza box. No signs of anything balanced, nutritional, or healthy, maybe the apple counts.
He rubs his sleepy face and rakes a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair.
“What am I going to do with you?” He shuffles closer to where you are, squinting at your cheeks puffed with food.
“I was hungry!” You mumble, unbothered under his scrutinizing stare.
Nanami grimaces at the random bits of food that fly out of your mouth. He knows that your pregnancy cravings have been cranked up to the max since entering your 2nd trimester, but he’s still unused to you eating the house of stock just because you feel a little hunger.
“Sweetheart, you’re eating all of this right now? Do you know what time it is?” It’s like he’s scolding a child. Well, he could call this practice for future reference.
You close the fridge sheepishly and swallow.
“I didn’t want to wake you, and I didn’t want to cook anything, so I just ate whatever came to mind.” Your explanation makes him sigh, but you know he’s really not irritated. He just wishes you had woken him up even at this late hour if it meant providing you with something healthier than whatever junk you’re eating now.
“You should’ve woken me up,”
He grabs the Dorito bag, the old pizza box, and everything else on the counter and dumps it all in the trash. He doesn’t dare to grab the food already in your hands; he knows better than to anger a pregnant lady.
“You know I don’t mind cooking for you.” He grabs a pot and a pan. If you’re hungry, he’s going to feed you at least right.
“What are you doing?” You ask, confused.
“Making you something proper.” He grabs some ingredients from the fridge and the pantry shelves. The smell of eggs and veggies fills your nose.
You sit down by the counter, still eating the last of your sandwich and pizza. You watch his broad shoulders shift and strain under his thin sleep shirt. He’s such a sight for sore eyes. What could be more attractive than your caring, unbelievably sexy husband cooking you a meal without being asked at 3 in the morning?
He whisks the eggs and pours them into the buttered pan. He dumps the veggies and folds them into a perfect tamagoyaki. Basic but tasty, way better than what you were eating before.
“Here, eat up,” he places the freshly cooked food and crosses his arms, watching you pick up the chopsticks on the plate and eagerly stuffing your mouth.
“Aw, thank you, Ken. You didn’t have to,” your eyes sting with tears. It surprises you how easily your mood can shift from hungry to happy to sad. You feel bad for waking him up and make him feel like he has to take care of you all the time.
Nanami shakes his head, walking over to where you sat and wrapping his strong arms around you. He presses a kiss on the side of your head. He smells like his sandalwood shaving cream and cologne.
“Don’t cry, my love. I don’t mind doing anything for you as long as you’re content.” He kisses your leftover tears away, his eyes full of love for the mother of his little girl, Sachiko, and the light of his life.
You sniffle, beaming under his affection.
“Don’t you have work in the morning, Ken? I shouldn’t be keeping you up this late.”
He shakes his head, his large hand trailing down to rest on the curve of your belly. He feels a small nudge barely there, but still enough to make his heart flutter. His palm’s warmth seeps through the cotton of the button-up, grounding you.
“That doesn’t matter right now. You and the baby are more important to me than anything else right now.”
“You don’t mind me keeping you up late even though you have work?”
He shakes his head, his hands now coming up to cup your cheeks. You melt and lean into his touch, watery eyes blinking up at him.
“I don’t care if I lose sleep. Do you think I’d rather be asleep than taking care of you right now?” His voice is low and warm, comforting your guilt-clouded head.
You slowly move your head, no, letting his thumb wipe away stray tears.
“No… know you love doting on me.”
“Good. I want you to wake me anytime if you need anything. Promise you’ll do that for me?”
“I promise.” His shoulders relax at your promise. He presses a slow kiss on your forehead before pulling back to meet your eyes again.
“I love you,” he murmurs, only quiet enough for you to hear.
You giggle, grinning playfully.
“No way. I love you more.”
(In a perfect world I’m nanami’s happy pampered wife.)
first day, first lecture, actually. he stepped in late, and the only empty seat left was beside you. you both stared at the professor in pure, utterly confused silence, question marks probably floating on top of your heads as you tried to gather anything. after five minutes, you simply turned and asked him to let you pass so you could leave.
he grabbed his stuff, joining you. he asked if you wanted to grab coffee, and that’s how it all started.
three years later, you were the untouchable sukuna ryomen’s girlfriend. your relationship was private, no one knew any details (it wasn’t like anyone would dare to ask sukuna, especially with the way his resting face was a terrifying glare to everyone else) and you two preferred it that way.
no one knew the details. no one knew how sukuna was deeply and utterly smitten— the scowling, terrifying, muscular 6’4 man turning immediately into lovesick puppy for you. clingy, needy, obsessed, your guard dog of a boyfriend never ever let you doubt his love. he always made it clear, whether it was his arm’s wrapped around you every chance he got, or him spamming your phone whenever you weren’t around, using any excuse to talk to you, or the way he dropped everything for you, making it clear you were his first priority, or the way he listened intensely to every word that left your mouth and noticed everything about you— which showed when he referenced your words from months ago, or bought you gifts you didn’t even mention, or could tell you weren’t okay from a single glance.
it really was not a lie that sukuna ryomen loved you. he knew it. you knew it. his frat knew it. everyone that really knew sukuna knew he loved you.
which was why the break up broke you.
that night didn’t even seem real. he had ignored you for a total of three days, replying to your texts dryly, which was already odd. then, he showed to to your place in the middle of the night, jaw clenched, eye bags dark, like he hasn’t slept in days. he didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain— simply told you he was tired, that he couldn’t do this anymore, and walked away.
like he didn’t just ruin you. like you two weren’t discussing your shared future a few days ago. like you two hadn’t already agreed what stupid fucking roses you wanted at your wedding. like he hasn’t kissed you so softly just a few days ago, murmuring soft pleads for you to never leave him.
to make it worse, he didn’t disappear after. he attended your shared lectures as usual— sitting behind you, always behind you, like he needed to keep you in his vision. he left your notifications on, which you knew because he remained the first to view every story until you blocked him. he kept going to your favorite cafe beside campus (he didn’t even like their coffee) at the exact same time you always did, his sad eyes set on you, buying a single water bottle each time, until you stopped going. you even had to stop going to the library late at night, because he would always be there, blank notebooks open as he pathetically pretended to focus when his eyes wouldn’t leave you alone. even late at night, when you would scroll through your chats, you would see his bubble. tying. erasing. there.
it was worse, because it was obvious that he still loved you.
it made you want to scream, really. it would have been better if he just… pretended you didn’t exist. ignored you. blocked you first. flirted with girls in your vision. did anything to make you feel like he didn’t care anymore. like he didn’t give a fuck, so you could move on. so you wouldn’t get the stupid urge to show up to his place and ask him what the fuck his issue was. so you could hate him.
but again, unfortunately for you, sukuna was never good at hiding his love for you.
it was going to be okay, though. because sukuna already broke it up, and moving on was clearly the only good solution. it wasn’t like he will ever come back, anywa—
bzzz.
dilf420: bro. ur fucking bf is sulking and ruining my party. can you come pick his drunk ass up. ill pay u.
you blinked once at the notification, then twice, then immediately opened it. you really should have blocked the whole frat.
you: broke up. no longer my bf. also, ur broke.
toji replied immediately.
dilf420: idc that u two broke up he’s drunk and blabbering about missing his fucking wife come pick his ass up
you stared at the dm blankly, eyes staring at the words like it would disappear if you blinked.
his fucking wife.
your throat felt dry. heart physically hurting, like someone’s fingers were digging into the muscle and squeezing it the way sukuna used to squeeze your fingers before kissing each knuckle. it hurt, so much, your vision slowly blurring the longer you stared at the three words.
on the other side of the phone, sukuna was pressed against toji, shoving his face into the cracked screen, face flushed from the alcohol, lips almost pouting, hair messy from running his hands through it so many times. “is she answerin’?” he muttered, voice slurred. “my pretty wife, is she comin’?”
toji sighed. “nah, man. she left me on read. you’re so fucked.”
sukuna groaned, stumbling slightly before he was leaning on the wall, eyes shut in pure devastation. “she hates me. what if she doesn’t wanna get back?”
“…you showed up at three in the morning and broke up with her without giving her a reason, bro. on gojo’s soul, she does not want to get back.”
it was silent for a few seconds before a quiet sniffle echoed in the room, and toji’s head snapped to the untouchable, scary figure sliding down the wall, face buried into his hands, shoulders trembling. toji’s eyes widened briefly, but sukuna grunted, the sound shaky. “not a fucking word.”
the next monday, you were still recovering from toji’s dm as you slid into your morning, 8:30 am lecture. you were half-asleep, buried in sweatpants and a hoodie, hood up in an attempt to hide from the world. your eyes were drooping sleepily, head slowly slipping from where your head rested on your palm, the tip of your pen slowly seeping ink into the paper.
someone slides beside you, and you freeze. you knew that cologne. you bought that cologne.
you didn’t move a muscle, shoulders tense, eyes suddenly focused as they stared ahead. you could feel his gaze, his thigh pressing against yours in the annoyingly small seats. you could feel the heat from his skin, even from the thick fabric of your sweatpants.
…what the fuck was he doing?
your jaw clenched, before you took a quiet deep breath, convincing yourself he must have not looked properly when picking a seat. it takes a few minutes, but you’re finally able to focus back on your professor again, ignoring the way you could feel his gaze shifting to you ever few seconds.
“…i’m sorry.”
you sucked in a sharp, annoyed breath, gaze still ahead, fingers tightening around the pen in your grasp, eyes unamused. he slowly placed a cup on your desk— your favorite coffee, from your favorite cafe. you froze, and you could see him wincing from your peripheral vision.
“…give me a chance explain, please?”
you carefully pushed yourself up, grabbing your bag and notebook, and silently stepped out of the hall. outside, toji was standing, a sigh on his lips as he caught up with you despite how you only spared him an annoyed glare.
“he loves you, you know that.” toji murmured. “give him a chance to explain.”
“no.” you muttered. “he’s a coward who left me without an explanation. now he wants to give me one?”
toji grimaced. “that wasn’t his brightest moments, but… come on, he’s your sukuna.”
“he made it clear he’s not.”
that night, you were dragged to one of their parties, curtesy of gojo begging you to show with tears and snot running down his face, using a lame excuse about how everyone in the frat misses you. you didn’t buy it, but you had to stop the embarrassingly loud bawling boy on your doorstep.
now, you sat in their kitchen, perched on the counter, an overly sweet drink between your fingers, and a staring ex-boyfriend on the other side.
sukuna was sulking.
eyes set on you, lips pursed, arms crossed— he ignored everyone who stared at him just so he could keep his eyes on you. geto and nanami sighed as they passed, geto offering him a bottle casually, and sukuna grabbed it, eyes still on you before he tilted his head back and drowned half the bottle down, only stopping when nanami pulled it back while snapping about expensive liquor.
the thing about sukuna? he was a lightweight, and an emotional drunk. that usually manifested in a shorter temper when he wasn’t with you, and him being unbelievably clingy with you, and now, a few hours after gulping random drinks down?
it manifested in him dragging himself to stand in front of you, lips wobbling and eyes tearful, looking like a kicked puppy instead of the frat bro everyone was terrified off. “baby…”
you hated how your own heart clenched, fingers digging into your palm to prevent yourself from cooing at him and tugging him into your hold safely. you only narrowed your eyes at him, and his eyes glossed even more. he opened his mouth, probably to beg, only to halt dangerously.
you, unfortunately, knew him too well. you let out a loud groan, quickly jumping off and dragging him to an empty bathroom upstairs, shutting the door just in time for him to drop to his knees and empty his stomach out into the toilet. he let out a choked sob between retches, and you sighed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, a hand slowly rubbing his back. “dumbass.”
“i miss you so much,” he immediately whimpered, eyes shut painfully. “i miss you so, so, much. please, angel, forgive me, please— i want you back, i need you back, ‘m a stupid son of a bitch for every breaking it off, i need you in my life, please—“
he was interrupted with another gag, and you sighed, resuming to rub his back as he continued, your own vision blurry, heart shattering at the broken sob he let out once he was done.
“breathe.” you murmured softly. “come on, kuna, breathe for me. you can do that, yeah?”
“no,” he choked out. “i can’t— can’t even breathe without you, baby. please, please, forgive me for being a dumb idiot, i need my wife back, please—“
“if you breathe now, and we can talk tomorrow.”
it was almost humorous how he immediately straightened up, red, watery eyes wide, nose red and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. you sighed, reaching over to wipe his tears away, and he let out a pathetic whine, immediately leaning into your touch. you finally helped him up, forcing him to brush his teeth before you opened the door, quietly leading him into his room.
inside, he immediately flopped into bed, tired, sad eyes staring up at you. “you’ll… talk to me, right? please, baby?”
“tomorrow,” you murmured, throwing him a pair of shorts. “just sleep now, okay?”
he nodded frantically, eyes shutting quickly, obediently.
no one would believe this was the version of sukuna ryomen you knew— now when everyone else got the loud, short-tempered, rude, asshole version of him. you stared at him softly, watching his breathe even out, eyes fluttering shut, before you sighed softly, and stepped out of his room.
the next morning, you woke up to sukuna in front of your door, hair messy and eyes exhausted, yet holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and your favorite coffee, the other messily trying to adjust his shirt to look more presentable. the second you opened your door, eyes sleepy and hair messily, lips pulled into a frown, he froze.
red eyes widened softly before his body relaxed, eyes softening, and breathed out slowly. “…hi.”
you reluctantly opened the door wider, letting him in. he stepped in, 6’4 solid figure suddenly seeming small, gently setting the items down, hands that are used to throwing punches leaning down to carefully adjust a delicate petal before he straightened up, eyes falling back on you, so full of unsaid emotions that they were already glossing over.
after a few seconds, he swallowed harshly, throat bobbing before he took a step closer. “i missed you.”
you frowned, eyes narrowing. “why did you break up, sukuna?”
“please,” he choked out the second the name escaped your lips, eyes wide in pure devastation. “please, angel. ryo, kuna, baby, pretty boy— anything but that.”
your frown deepened. he let out a defeated, shaky breath, and stepped even closer. “i broke it because i was a fucking idiot. i… i never loved someone so much, angel, i never cared about someone so much. you made me the happiest person alive, and… i knew you deserved better.”
you froze. he sniffled, taking another step closer, eyes desperately and voice breaking. “angel, i… i’m a selfish, possessive asshole, and you deserve someone perfect. i was so scared that you’ll wake up one day and end it, so i… just did.”
your vision clouded with tears, and he dropped to his knees, eyes wet with unshed tears. “i was a stupid, fucking idiot. i should have stayed, talked to you, got the reassurance i know my angel would give me, but i didn’t want to be selfish… i thought i was doing what’s best for you…”
he let his head drop, face falling to press against your abdomen, a loud, pained whimper escaping him. “turns out i was a fucking idiot for ever considering letting you go. i… i have been miserable, angel, bawled my fucking eyes out an embarrassing amount of times. i miss you so much, baby, i can’t— i can’t live with you. i can’t sleep, eat, breathe,” he gasped, hands trembling as they slowly reached to hold into your waist, and let out a louder sob once his fingers touched your body, tears soaking your shirt. “i need you in my life, angel. please, i can’t live without you. my heart only exists to beat for you. i was a fucking moron to ever think about letting you go. you deserve so much better— and i promise, ‘ll be better. i’ll be a better boyfriend, a better partner, a better everything— just, give me a chance,”
you sniffled. the second you did, his head snapped up, eyes wide and tearful and horrified, and he immediately shot to his feet, ignoring his own soaked face as gentle fingers slowly cupped your cheek, wiping your tears away. “please don’t cry, i can’t handle you being upset, please—“
“you idiot.” you finally whispered. he froze, eyes wide and pained, and you only stepped closer, letting your head drop into his chest. his arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you until no space existed between you both. “are you stupid?”
“i am. i’m sorry, baby,” he whispered back. “i’m so sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m—“
“shut up.” you croaked out. “you’re an idiot. i love you as you are, you asshole.”
“i know, baby. i’m sorry.” he buried his face into your neck, his tears damping your shirt once more. “i’m never leaving you again, angel. not even physically— i’ll be so clingy you’ll get sick of me. i can’t live without you, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”
you let him hold you, eyes shut tiredly. “…idiot.”
he let out a sharp laugh, holding you even tighter, pressing wet kisses all over your face until a smile broke on your pretty lips, and you could physically feel him finally breathing normally, still pressing kisses to your face, gentle and needy and desperate. “i know, angel. only an idiot would ever walk away from you. never, ever again. i love you. never, ever again. i’ll marry you, my love. never leaving you again.”
a/n i hate tumblr i had to write this three times </3 anyways hi ^^ still obsessed w these headers…
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
Part 1
The next few nights were busy. Not packed, but busy enough that you could lose yourself in the rhythm.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t busy enough to stop thinking about Sukuna. Every time the door swung open you were eager to look up; and even more disappointed when it wasn’t him.
“Think about it sweetheart.” You hated that those words had followed you. If you tried hard enough, you could still feel the warmth of his hand on yours.
The bell above the door chimed.
And there was your boyfriend, tipsy already, and it was barely 10pm.
A knot formed in your stomach.
“Hey babe,” he called loudly, stumbling slightly as he approached the bar.
Several customers glanced over. You forced a smile. “You’re drunk,” you whispered when he got closer.
He laughed. “Missed me?”
No. The thought came before you could stop it.
“I told you I was working.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His arm landed heavily on the counter.
You tried to keep him quiet for a while, and not disturb the rest of the customers.
———
Then his eyes shifted and he froze.
Sukuna happened to walk in twenty minutes after him. He took a seat three stools away, waving at you as he sat down.
Your boyfriend straightened. “Who’s this?”
You closed your eyes briefly.
Please don’t.
Sukuna calmly took a sip of the whiskey you just served him.
Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to.
“Oh.” Your boyfriend laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I get it.”
Sukuna didn’t react.
Your boyfriend pointed at him. “You’re the guy.”
“The guy?” Sukuna asked mildly.
“The guy trying to get with my girlfriend.”
Every muscle in your body tensed. “Stop. Please.”
Your boyfriend ignored you. “What, you think I haven’t noticed?”
Sukuna set his glass down slowly. “You’re making a scene.”
“You talking to my girl isn’t making a scene?”
“She’s working, I come here just for the booze buddy.”
You stepped forward. “Enough.”
But your boyfriend was already spiraling. The alcohol had taken control. “You think you’re better than me?”
Sukuna leaned back. “No.”
That somehow made him angrier. The bar had gone quiet, and customers were pretending not to stare.
Your face burned. Humiliation clawing at your skin.
“Come on then.” Your boyfriend stepped closer. “Let’s go outside.”
Sukuna sighed, like he was tired; like he didn’t feel threatened at all. “You’re drunk.”
“Says the guy sitting in a bar.”
“I’ve had one drink, unlike you.”
“You’re scared huh?”
“No.” The answer was immediate. “And I’m not fighting you.”
Your boyfriend shoved the edge of the bar, his glass rattling. You were frozen in fear and embarrassment.
“Hey.” Your coworker immediately appeared beside you. “That’s enough.”
Your boyfriend barely acknowledged him.
Big mistake.
Your coworker was six-foot-four and built like a fridge.
Sukuna stood. “Let’s go.”
Your boyfriend scoffed. “Or what?”
“Or you’ll embarrass her more than you already have,” he says nodding his head in your direction.
Silence.
Your boyfriend’s face twisted with disgust, and your stomach churned because you thought he was going to swing at Sukuna. It wouldn’t be the first time he got into a bar fight.
Instead Sukuna simply stepped beside him, and your coworker on the other. Together they guided him toward the door.
“Get off me!”
Nobody reacted.
“She’s my girlfriend! Babe say something—“
The words echoed through the bar; and you wished the floor would swallow you whole.
The bell chimed. And he was gone.
Customers quickly returned to their conversations and card games. The music seemed to play a little louder.
Life moved on.
But you couldn’t. You stared at the counter. At the glasses. At anything except the people around you.
Your eyes burned.
No. Not here.
The first tear slipped free. You immediately turned away. Mortified, because how could your life get any worse.
“Hey.” Sukuna’s voice was quieter now.
You shook your head. “I’m fine.”
Another tear followed. Then another.
God, you hated crying in front of people.
Your coworker squeezed your shoulder, “I’ve got the floor, take a break.”
You didn’t argue.
——-
A few minutes later you found yourself sitting on a crate outside the back of the bar, trying and failing to pull yourself together.
Footsteps approached you, but you didn’t look up, because you knew who it was.
Sukuna sat beside you, and neither of you spoke for a while.
You wiped angrily at your face. “This is so embarrassing,” you say first.
“No, you did good.”
“Everyone saw.”
“Nobody cares.”
“I care,” you blurted out, mascara stained your face now.
His expression softened, which made you look away. You felt guilty for seeking solace in a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.
“God this is hard.” The confession slipped out before you could stop it. “He’s changed so much.”
Sukuna stayed quiet.
“He was such a great guy,” your voice cracked. “I know that’s hard to believe.”
The air felt as though it had thickened.
“And now I spend more time making excuses for him than talking about him.”
Sukuna looked at the floor, then at you. “I know.”
Fresh tears welled up. “He made me look stupid. So freakin stupid.” The words came out small and broken.
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. “You don’t look stupid.”
“I stayed and I continue to stay.”
“You love him.”
You laughed bitterly. “Who knows anymore.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment. Then gently handed you a napkin. “You remember what I said the other day?”
Your chest tightened. Of course you remembered. “Hmm. I remember.”
He nodded once. “I meant it.” His gaze never left yours. “But I already told you what I had to say.”
The breeze was warm, drying your tear-streaked cheeks. This felt too intimate.
“You have to make a decision now.” Not a demand, no pressure. Just the truth.
Your eyes dropped to your hands. “What if I make the wrong one?”
A painful smile appeared on Sukuna’s face. “You already know what the wrong decision looks like.”
The tears started again; you were just so exhausted. And before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him slightly.
Sukuna froze, then slowly rested an arm around your shoulders.
No flirting, no teasing, no smug grin. Just a shoulder to cry on.
———————————————————————————————
The last box was heavier than it looked.
“What’s even in this thing?” Sukuna asked, carrying it down the apartment stairs like it weighed nothing.
You huffed a laugh behind him. “Mostly books.”
“You’re telling me paper weighs this much?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” you smiled.
“I can read.”
“That’s not what I—”
Sukuna shot you a look over his shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, you laughed without feeling guilty afterward. The sound surprised you both.
————
The apartment was almost empty now.
Almost no framed photos on the walls. No more clothes hanging in the closet. No more reminders of all the years you’d spent trying to make something work.
The moving truck sat outside, half loaded.
Sukuna set the last box inside and dusted off his hands. “There.”
You looked back toward the building. It felt strange, you had imagined this moment so many times before. But now that you were finally doing it, it didn’t feel dramatic.
“You okay?” Sukuna asked. His voice was softer these days, but still blunt like always.
You nod, “Yeah, i think so.”
Sukuna leaned against the truck. Neither of you spoke for a moment. The spring breeze tugged at your hair.
For the first time in months, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the next disaster to happen.
No angry texts, no drunken calls.
No wondering what mood your ex-boyfriend would be in when he got home.
The realization hit you so suddenly your eyes started watering. Again.
You laughed through it.
“Are you crying?”
“I’m not,” you said turning away from him.
“Come here,” he said gesturing to you to come closer.
You wiped at your eyes, “I’m emotional.”
“I know, I’m not judging. No need for explanations.”
Sukuna smirked. Then his expression softened. “You know,” he said, “you don’t have to be strong all the time.”
You looked away.
That was the problem. You’d spent years being strong, fixing problems, and making excuses. Carrying someone else’s weight because you thought that was what love was.
Love is patient.
Love is sacrifice.
Love is sticking it out.
Right?
But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten that love wasn’t supposed to hurt all the time.
Sukuna reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle it made your chest ache.
“You saved yourself,” he said.
You blinked. “What?”
“The restraining order. The breakup, the move. I’m so proud of you.”
“That was all you.” You smiled. “You did most of the heavy lifting, kinda like right now,” you gestured to the moving truck.
His red eyes met yours. Sukuna stepped closer. Just enough that you could feel his warmth. “But I couldn’t make the choice for you.”
You swallowed. He was right, he offered you a hand, a way out; but he never pushed.
The final decision had been yours.
Sukuna reached for your hand. Your fingers intertwined naturally now.
Although it was still fresh, you had decided on no promises or labels. One day at a time; and of course he was okay with that.
“What now?” You asked, while squeezing his hand.
Sukuna glanced toward the truck. “Now?”
A grin spread across his face. “We unpack six hundred pounds of books.”
You groaned.
sukuna chuckles, “Hey I already carried them.”
“You’re still helping me bring them in.”
Sukuna sighed dramatically. “See? This is how it starts.”
You laughed.
And as you climbed into the truck together, leaving the apartment behind for good, you realized for once, you were looking forward to what came next.
Summary: Sukuna is tired of seeing his favourite bartender upset over her bum ass boyfriend
Part 2
“Whiskey,” Sukuna said, dropping into his usual stool, the seat with the best view of you while you worked. “The expensive one please.”
“You don’t tip enough for the expensive one,” you teased.
A low laugh rumbled from him. “There she is.”
The bar was quieter tonight; rain against the windows, old rock humming from the speakers, neon signs buzzing dimly overhead. The kind of night that dragged exhaustion into your bones.
Sukuna watched you the whole time. He wasn’t subtle about it either.
“You look annoyed sweetheart,” he said.
“I’m working, so duh.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
You slid the drink toward him. “Maybe drink instead of psychoanalyzing me.”
He took a sip without breaking eye contact.
“Boyfriend piss you off again?”
Your jaw tightened for half a second and that smug bastard noticed.
“Mm.” He leaned back on the stool. “So that’s a yes.”
“He forgot to pick me up after my shift yesterday.” You regretted saying it immediately.
Sukuna snorted. “Again?”
“He was busy,” you broke eye contact knowing Sukuna can read you like a book.
“Let me guess; he was drunk or out partyin.”
Silence.
Because he was.
You started wiping down an already clean section of the counter just to avoid answering the question.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly, tattoos shifting against his sharp cheekbones as he studied you.
“You make excuses for him a lot.”
“Yeah… sometimes that’s what it’s like being in a relationship, also you don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.” Another sip. “Saw him in here last week hanging off some blonde in a red dress.”
Your stomach twisted. “He wasn’t—”
“He was.”
You hated that he noticed everything. Hated that some reckless little part of you liked being noticed by him, that it felt like he cared.
“You know,” he continued casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “if I had my girl waiting for me after her long shitty shift, I wouldn’t forget her…definitely not if it was you.”
Your hands paused. “Sukuna—”
“No, really.” He leaned forward now, elbows resting on the counter. “I’m trying to figure out what exactly this idiot offers that’s worth all this disappointment.”
“He’s my boyfriend.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
Heat crawled up your neck. He grinned slowly when he noticed.
God, that grin was dangerous.
“You work double shifts,” he continued. “You remember his birthday, your anniversary, probably his coffee order too.” His eyes dragged over you lazily. “Meanwhile he can’t stay sober long enough to pick you up on time.”
“You’re drunk right now.”
“I barely finished my first drink…but even drunk I could never forget such a pretty face.”
That shouldn’t have affected you.
But then he reached across the counter — slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted — and placed his hand over yours.
The touch felt unfairly warm.
“I’m serious,” Sukuna murmured. “You keep wasting yourself on men who don’t know what to do with you.”
Your breath caught. His thumb brushed against your pulse.
“I would.”
Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away slightly; shocked by Sukuna’s confession.
“Think about it sweetheart,” he said tapping your hand lightly before pulling away to pay for his drink.
Lifeguards Kirishima and Bakugo were eye candy for every woman on the beach.
Their red five-inch shorts sat dangerously low on their hips, exposing sharp v-lines and tanned skin. They had no business looking that good.
Between Kirishima’s broad shoulders and easy smiles, and Bakugo’s toned arms and permanent scowl, they were day and night but they had the attention of all.
Girls constantly crowded around their tower.
Some asked fake safety questions just to hear Kirishima talk. Others “accidentally” wandered too far into the water so Bakugo would yell at them to come back.
Neither lifeguard cared. Because the only person either of them watched was you.
“You’re distracted again,” you called, rolling the volleyball beneath your foot.
Bakugo’s sharp gaze snapped toward you from atop the lifeguard chair.
“The hell I am.”
“You’ve blown that whistle at us six times in the last ten minutes,” your teammate said. “We’re not even in the water.”
“Seven times,” Kirishima corrected helpfully.
Bakugo glared at him.
You snorted, stepping back into position on the sand court. The game around you resumed quickly, shouts and laughter mixing with crashing waves.
You jumped.
Served.
Ace.
Your teammates erupted into cheers while the opposing side groaned dramatically.
From the tower, Kirishima whistled loudly. “Nice one!”
A group of girls nearby immediately turned toward him, giggling when he smiled politely their way.
Bakugo looked irritated by the noise. Or maybe irritated by the way he couldn’t ignore the sweat clinging to your skin after diving for the ball.
It was always hard to tell with him.
“You gonna keep staring,” you called up at the tower, “or actually do your job?”
Kirishima laughed, an obvious blush stained his cheeks; while Bakugo leaned forward against the railing.
“Thought my job was watching the beach.”
“It is.”
“And you’re on the beach,” he smirked cockily.
A dangerous blush crept across the bridge of his nose while Kirishima nearly choked laughing beside him.
You only grinned, spinning the volleyball in your hands.
“Careful, lifeguards,” you teased. “People might think all this extra attention is you two flirting with me.”
Bakugo clicked his tongue loudly, sinking back into his chair.“Shut up and play your damn game.”
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces.
𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni!
𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4
Then
“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.
A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.
“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.
Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”
Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”
You looked down at him curiously. “What?”
“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.
“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”
Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”
That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”
Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”
You nodded. “Definitely.”
He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.
“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.
You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.
“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.
You were still his favorite, it seemed.
The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.
Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.
You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.
Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”
You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.
It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.
You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.
As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.
You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.
Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
“Caught you,” he called up to you.
You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”
Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.
You grinned. “Not until I get down.”
A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.
“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.
You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”
A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.
You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”
“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.
You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”
Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”
The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”
Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.
You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.
Now
The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.
It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.
You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.
You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.
After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.
It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.
The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.
You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.
Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.
The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.
You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.
You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.
The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.
You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.
Perfect.
You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.
You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.
You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?
Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.
Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.
“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.
Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.
Nope. No.
“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”
You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.
You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”
Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.
In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.
Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.
Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.
Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.
“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”
Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”
You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”
Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”
That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”
“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.
You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.
You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?
“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.
The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.
But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.
Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…
You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.
Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.
With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”
You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.
He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.
Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.
You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.
You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.
His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.
What was with him today?
“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”
Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.
“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.
His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.
You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.
Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.
All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.
“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.
But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.
Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.
Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.
“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”
His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.
Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”
Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.
It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.
Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—
“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”
Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.
“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”
Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”
You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.
Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.
“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.
“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”
A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.
But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.
“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.
A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”
You fought down a furious flush.
“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.
“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”
The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?
“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”
Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.
Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.
God how had you missed this?
You rallied yourself for one last defense.
“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”
Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.
“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.
You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.
“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.
Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.
Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.
“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”
“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.
God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.
The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.
Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.
“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.
You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.
Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.
“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.
And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.
Surrendering, you let yourself fall.
“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”
Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.
You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.
Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.
You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.
Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.
Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.
You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.
He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.
You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.
You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.
You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.
He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.
He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.
He looked too good to be real.
“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.
Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.
“You don’t want—?” you said.
Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”
Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.
“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.
Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.
The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.
You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.
By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.
Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.
Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.
Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.
Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.
“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.
His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.
“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.
Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.
“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.
The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.
You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.
Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”
Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.
You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.
“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”
“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.
“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.
Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.
“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”
Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.
“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.
Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.
Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.
“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.
“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.
A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.
Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.
“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.
You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”
You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.
“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.
The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.
“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”
Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”
Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”
Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”
Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.
Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.
He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.
“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.
Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”
Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.
“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.
You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.
A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”
You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.
“The—what?” you asked.
“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—
“What bookstore?” you asked.
Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.
“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.
Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”
Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.
“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.
“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.
Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”
A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”
A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”
You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.
“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.
You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.
And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.
“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.
“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.
You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.
But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.
“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.
You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.
You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.
You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.
“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.
You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.
“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.
You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.
Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.
You had the rest of your life together, after all.
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.
All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces.
𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni!
𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4
Then
“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.
You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.
“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.
On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.
Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”
Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.
You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.
“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.
As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.
You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.
Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.
“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”
Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”
You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”
Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”
You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”
Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.
You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.
“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.
“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.
“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.
Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.
“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.
You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.
You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”
Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”
You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.
“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”
Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.
“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.
You pretended to think on this.
“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.
Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.
You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.
Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.
“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”
You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”
“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.
You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.
“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”
Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”
You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”
Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”
You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”
A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.
“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”
“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.
Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.
These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.
You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.
Now
The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.
Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.
You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.
Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.
“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.
Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.
Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.
You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.
That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.
“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.
“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”
Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”
You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.
“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.
But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.
You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.
With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.
You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.
You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.
“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.
Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.
“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.
You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”
Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.
“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.
You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”
Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”
Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”
Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.
You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”
Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”
You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”
Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.
“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.
A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”
Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”
“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.
That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”
You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”
Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”
“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”
“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”
Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.
“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.
Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”
You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”
It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.
Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.
“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.
“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.
“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”
Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”
“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.
“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.
The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.
The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”
You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”
Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”
Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”
Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.
No. That way lay danger.
Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.
“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.
Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.
It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.
“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.
You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.
Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.
You laughed. “You know what I mean.”
“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.
“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.
Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”
You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.
“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.
You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.
“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”
Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.
“I’d like that,” he said.
He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.
The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.
Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.
It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.
You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.
Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.
A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.
When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.
When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.
You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.
A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.
“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.
Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”
Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.
“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.
Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”
That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.
“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”
Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.
Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.
When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.
Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.
“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”
The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”
You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.
“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.
An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.
“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”
“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.
Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?
“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.
You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.
“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”
Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.
“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.
You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”
The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.
You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”
Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.
“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”
You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”
Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.
You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”
Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.
You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”
“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.
You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.
“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”
Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.
“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”
He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.
You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”
Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.
He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.
You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.
Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.
Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.
You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.
“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.
You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.
“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”
Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”
You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.
“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.
Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”
Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.
It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.
You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.
Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.
All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces.
𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni!
𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 4.7k | chapter 2 of 4
Then
The Todoroki house was the most interesting place you had ever been.
At home it was just you and your mom, and most of the time she was working, or recovering from working, but the Todoroki house was packed with children from wall to wall. There was almost never a dull minute—except when Todoroki Enji came home and everyone got stiff and weird—but when he wasn’t around, you found you preferred the Todoroki mansion to the loneliness of your own empty house.
Touya seemed to sense this, and deigned to invite you over often, enough that you found yourself following him home after school at least once a week.
After the first time, you’d been introduced to his other siblings, Fuyumi and Natuso, who were both much nicer than Touya, and notably far more talkative. Shouto was a near-constant too, almost always propped on his mother’s hip when you arrived home, and always eager to be handed off to you, enough that you could tell Touya was annoyed.
“You’re not even related,” he complained, and you hid a smile at his barely-couched jealousy.
“I’m just better than you,” you told him, sticking your tongue out, dodging when he tried to grab it. You’d never had siblings, and you’d been forced to learn quickly that nothing was off-limits to people with younger siblings. Revenge would always be exacted.
Even when Shouto got older, old enough to talk in complete sentences and toddle about on his own, he seemed to prefer your company. You and Touya were almost never left alone to play on your own, Shouto always in the room with you, almost velcroed to your side.
He was on the floor next to you in the living room on one such occasion, Touya absolutely destroying you in Super Mario, when Rei called Touya in from the kitchen.
Touya rolled his eyes, pausing and flinging his controller at your head with the manner of someone who hoped it actually connected. “Don’t restart while I’m gone or I’ll kill you.”
You saluted him as he stomped out, taking a minute to stretch out from where you’d sat hunched over your controller. You bumped Shouto as you did, and he looked up at you from his coloring book, where he was shading in a pair of penguins in hot pink.
“Nice choice,” you told him, and Shouto looked a little bit like he was trying not to preen.
“Izuku in my class says penguins mate for life, like us,” he said, authoritatively.
You blinked, your brain snagging on the like us. Alphas, betas, and omegas could mate for life, and were generally expected to, but that didn’t always quite play out if you didn’t find your life mate. Your mother was a near-hand example, your father having left her while you were still in swaddling clothes, only to pass away a short few years later. They hadn’t been life mates, you’d come to realize recently—though your mother still believed in them. You hoped she’d find hers still, someday.
You thought maybe, however, that you were not going to hold out hope for your own, if it was as tricky as it seemed.
“You know not everyone does, right?” you asked, peering down at Shouto.
Wide, guileless eyes stared back up at you. Shouto had lost a little of his baby fat recently, but absolutely none of his sweetness.
“Who does not?” he demanded, sitting back on his haunches.
You fiddled with the controller in your fingers, wondering suddenly if you should have brought this up with him. “Some people. My parents didn’t,” you said, cautiously.
Shouto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Your parents?”
You shook your head. “Sometimes people don’t find them even after all of the mating runs.”
Shouto did not look pleased with this. His eyes roved over you, pinning on you with a sort of sudden, unnerving intensity. “Sometimes people go on mating runs. And their life mate is not there because they are too young to go yet.”
You blinked, surprised by the specificity of this conclusion. “Sometimes, probably, yeah.”
Shouto’s tiny frown deepened, and he carefully arranged himself up against your side. “You will wait though, right?”
Your hand found its way unthinkingly into his hair, ruffling it. He was a sweet kid. “I mean, people usually go through more than one mating run, right?”
Shouto pressed more insistently into your side. “You will keep going until your life mate is there, though.”
You had an image of yourself, greying and eighty, slowly wobbling on your cane through the preserve. You suppressed a laugh. “I’ll go as I can until I age out, how about that?”
Shouto nodded, satisfied. His crayon resumed on the penguins, fiery pink streaking across the page. “I will be there,” he pronounced definitively.
His decisive tone startled a laugh out of you. You grinned down at him, unable to help the urge to ruffle his hair again. “I’ll stick around until we can run together. Although you better get good at climbing trees.”
Shouto blinked, his mouth pursing in puzzlement. “Trees,” he repeated to himself.
You nodded. “If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate.”
You would not be like your parents. You would not settle, and you would be realistic about your prospects.
Shouto’s eyes tracked across your face once more, like he was committing the statement to memory.
“You’re welcome to come up with me,” you said. You couldn’t imagine Shouto as anything other than an omega like his mom, not with that sweet little face. You didn’t like the idea of some alpha trying to get at him, so it was better he stay safe in your tree with you.
The thought suddenly rankled, and you decided you were done with this discussion. Better not to think of Shouto all grown up and spirited away from everyone until you absolutely had to.
You tapped a finger on Shouto’s coloring book, turning him back to it. “Anyway. Tell me about the other animals in here? Did Izuku tell you about any of these?”
Shouto looked down at the page, his expression shifting seriously. “This is a killer whale,” he said, pointing to a corner of the page he’d colored in with a blob of forest green. “They are related to dolphins. They are the biggest dolphin in the world.”
You nodded, relaxing back on your hands, gesturing for him to go on.
Shouto took his job very seriously, explaining solemnly and in great detail all the animals on the page, the way he sometimes described all his toys to you. You let him go on, finding that you liked listening to Shouto talk—he was rarely so wordy, but he was easy and familiar and funny in how seriously he took everything.
You laid back and listened to him, hoping Touya took a little extra time in the kitchen. Shouto looked pleased to have your attention, and soon enough you found yourself dozing, your head against his little thigh, content with Shouto’s sweet little voice washing over you.
In Shouto’s company, the Todoroki house felt a lot like home.
Now
Your beloved mother woke you in the morning ramming the vacuum into the door of your old bedroom-turned-storage room.
You groaned from your air mattress, your old bed frame sold off already to pay a gas bill. You missed that thing.
“Only a week together and you were out all day yesterday,” your mother said when you emerged from your old room, shooting you a look that immediately made you feel like a teenager again. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, that she’d clearly commandeered because she’d missed you.
Your heart squeezed a little at the familiar sight of her, but not enough to curb your morning fussiness.
“Maybe I was out scoping alphas to pounce on during the run,” you said, shuffling towards the kitchen and the promise of coffee.
“You were out with the mayor’s son,” she said, sniffing. A small smile pulled at your mouth—she had pettily refused to call Touya by his name for years.
She’d been thrilled by your friendship with him when you were kids. From the outside, Touya had looked like a beautiful little boy from a well-to-do family. You knew she’d once held out hope for your friendship to turn into something more, to see you settled into a well-off family and taken good care of.
For your part, however, you’d been drawn to Touya but never interested in that way, and you knew Touya felt the same. And things had only gotten more complicated when Touya’s mental health had crumbled like dirt under his father’s heel, and even worse when the Todoroki family fire broke out; Touya’s extensive burns damaged his glands and destroyed any evidence of his secondary gender before he’d even presented. Though, personally, you’d always suspected he was an omega. He was showy, flashy, possessed of that classic omega need for praise and attention—not quite to your tastes.
You thought you probably preferred someone a little more lowkey, someone steady and easy. Definitely not Touya.
There was also the fact that his efforts as of late seemed directed at the one quarter of your friend group with blonde, fluffy hair. Though you knew Touya would rather burn his remaining skin off before admitting it.
Either way, your mother’s hopes of a marriage into the Todoroki family were dashed, along with her opinion of Todoroki Enji when things finally came to head, and she’d never quite forgiven Touya for it.
“Touya says hello,” you answered distractedly, fiddling around with the coffee machine, though of course Touya had said no such thing. “I saw Rei though, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. Did you know Shouto is a firefighter now? He’s gotten so big.”
“An alpha?” your mom’s voice floated out from the living room, her eagerness not quite suppressed.
You laughed, though a tiny, strange sort of spark lit up your spine. “Mom, I’m a couple years too old for him. I’m like his grandma.”
“Oh you are not, you dramatic thing,” you heard her sniff.
“Our first date could be at my bingo hall,” you carried on over the hiss of the water boiling, the dribble of coffee into the pot. “And we could get drunk on our prune juice, and I could slide out my dentures waiting for him to kiss me—”
“I’m going to sell you,” your mother said, her vacuum starting up again pointedly. You heard the distinct thump of it being rammed into a couch leg and grinned.
You knew she wanted to see you settled because she loved you, wanted to see you taken care of in all the ways that she hadn’t been. Your father had let her down years before he’d even passed, which you thought should have besmirched any alpha’s good name in your mother’s book. But she was determined to believe in love and life mates despite it all, and you admired her for it. She was a stubborn thing.
You spent the morning helping her do chores, clambering up onto the counters and getting all the places she couldn’t regularly reach, hauling out her trash and googling your way through some low-level repairs. You shared a quick breakfast in between, dodging more questions about the mating run, before returning to cleaning.
You were covered in dust and a thin layer of Lysol by the time you remembered you’d promised to meet Shouto at the fire station for lunch. There was not enough time to change or shower if you wanted to pick something up on the way, and you supposed it was well enough that Shouto did not actually possess the level of interest in you that your mother might have wanted him to.
“Going to see my child bride,” you told your mom on the way out, laughing and dodging a sponge.
The walk to the fire station took the better part of forty-five minutes, including a long interlude spent hemming and hawing over the prepared foods section of the grocery store before you finally settled on cold soba—Shouto’s favorite from when you were younger, if you remembered correctly.
The fire station itself was an older, whitewashed multi-story building, set back from the main road. The garage doors were open in the warming spring air, the bright red of the fire engines clearly visible from blocks away. You must have been visible from blocks away, too, because Shouto stepped out as you turned onto the drive, the dark blue of his stationwear stark against his skin.
Your heart did a strange lurching motion in your chest, and you pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the way his uniform belted in at his hips, highlighting the trimness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Nope.
“Hi Shouto,” you said, holding up your bag of spoils. “You still like soba, right?”
Shouto blinked, his eyelashes fluttering. Long fingers touched the bag, hefting it carefully from your grip. “You remember.”
You grinned up at him. “How could I forget? Especially because I was there when you had it for the first time. You flung some at Touya from your high chair and it ended up on me instead.”
Shouto looked embarrassed, a pink flush spreading prettily across the tops of his high cheekbones. “I do not believe you.”
“Uh huh,” you said.
Shouto’s mouth pulled into what might have been a nonexpression on anyone else, but was most definitely a pout on him. Cute.
“I can reassure you there will be no soba flung today,” he promised, his deep voice earnest. Then he paused. “Touya is not in range.”
A surprised laugh escaped you, and the edge of Shouto’s lips pulled. He looked pleased with himself for having drawn it out of you. He’d always made you laugh, even as a kid—though mostly for how incongruously serious he was as a child, even about the silliest things. But also for how he seemed able to press people’s buttons—Touya’s especially—just by existing.
Shouto gestured you inside, and you studied the firetrucks as you passed them, mostly so you did not watch the way Shouto’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.
When he caught your look of curiosity, Shouto led you over to one, opening the door for you to take a look inside. You peered at all the knobs and switches interestedly, leaning into the cab. It looked complex, and yet very familiar. It actually looked a lot like the toy fire truck that once spent a fair amount of time occupying the inside of baby Shouto’s mouth.
You glanced back, opening your mouth to tell Shouto as much, when suddenly two large hands were at your waist, warm and sure. They lifted you right into the driver’s seat like it was absolutely no effort.
You fell into the cab, suddenly winded. You whipped around to stare at Shouto, heart hammering with the casual display of alpha strength, unable to help the wide-eyed look you knew you were giving him. That was—that was—not allowed.
“Am I—can I be—in here?” you garbled out, trying not to make obvious the real reason for your sudden disorientation.
Shouto stepped up onto the wheel plate to lean into the cab beside you, bringing in a puff of that scent like campfire on a cold day. “Yes,” he answered, looking unbothered with how close his face was to yours.
You watched him helplessly, brain fogging with his proximity and his scent. He was very, very pretty up close. He’d grown into what had to be the most beautiful person you’d actually ever seen—his mother’s looks, dialed up to an eleven. The deliberate alpha edge to him should have been at odds with that delicate sensuality—but instead it was like his secondary gender sat on him like a beam of sunlight, highlighting his beauty.
It was totally at conflict with the round, pudgy little thing he’d been when you’d first seen him, the lanky preteen you’d left him as.
He felt so familiar and yet so strangely new. It was disconcerting.
You quickly averted your gaze, making a show of leaning in over all the dials and buttons. Shouto leaned right over your lap, his chest warm against your legs, patiently explaining what each one did in his low, calm tone. The depth of his voice was so shocking, but the tone so similar to what it had been—you could remember him explaining animals in his coloring book to you in much the same level of careful detail once.
Your head spun with the dichotomy. Baby Shouto, a lifetime away, and adult alpha Shouto here in front of you—
You hurriedly pushed the thought of adult alpha Shouto down before you could think too deeply on it. That was off limits.
When you’d had your fill and Shouto had managed to make sure you didn’t accidentally deploy the ladder in the station itself, he helped you down from the cab, his hands hot on your waist.
“I’m old but still spry enough to get myself down, young man,” you told him as he settled you back on the station floor. Your heartbeat felt like it was somewhere around your throat.
“I did not hear your bones creak at least,” Shouto said, startling you into a laugh again.
His mouth twitched as he led you further into the station, giving you a short tour of the gear racks, the office, the laundry room and fitness room stuffed with several of his coworkers, a room that smelled overwhelmingly of clashing alpha scents, none nearly as good as Shouto’s.
A cheery red head waved to you from the leg press, that Shouto introduced as Kirishima, and a blonde alpha greeted him with a towel whipped directly at Shouto’s face. Shouto ducked it with the ease of long practice.
“Oi halfie, who the fuck told you you could eat the cookies I brought in?” the blonde demanded, barely sparing you an acknowledging glace as he reracked a mind-bogglingly enormous set of weights.
Shouto introduced him anyway, in a deliberately bland tone that you immediately recognized as one he deployed to rile up Touya. “This is Bakugou Katsuki.”
“Answer the damn question,” Bakugou said.
Shouto blinked long and slow and absolutely meant to annoy. You hid a smile. “Am I expected to fight fires on an empty stomach,” Shouto said, flatter than a question.
“I’ll fucking show you an empty stomach when I rip out your—”
“You must be Y/N,” Kirishima said loudly from the leg press. You instantly clocked a beta disruption technique at work and smiled at him.
“Nice to meet you,” you said, searching for something to reply with, uniting in his peace-keeping mission. “That’s—an impressive amount of weight.”
“Thanks!” Kirishima said brightly.
Out of the corner of your eye you caught Shouto’s head snapping towards you, and you looked back to find his eyes narrowed on you.
“I can press as much,” Shouto said, his tone insistent. He crowded a little closer to you.
Your eyebrows crept towards your hairline, mystified. “I—that’s—great?”
A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth, and a disgusted sound issued from Bakugou’s corner of the gym. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Take this shit right outta here,” Bakugou demanded.
Shouto ignored him, still staring at you. He pressed closer, his shoulders shifting so that he was angled between you and Kirishima, obscuring most of your line of sight.
“I—mean you definitely look like you can press, um, a lot,” you continued, bewildered. “The only pressing I do is, uh, french press.”
The frown evaporated from Shouto’s expression, something suddenly pleased descending over it instead. Beyond him, you thought you could see Kirishima smiling, mouthing you look like you can press a lot to Bakugou, and an answering eye-roll from Bakugou. Oh god. Had you said that?
Your face heated, and you immediately decided an evacuation was in order. “Well thanks for letting us interrupt you. Nice to meet you guys. Shouto—should we—?”
Shouto’s hand found the small of your back, gently guiding you. All thought of Kirishima and Bakugou suddenly evaporated under the feeling of that hot palm, and you barely managed another wave as Shouto shadowed you out of the room. He led you up a flight of stairs to the dorm area, where several more of his coworkers were arrayed, chatting over their own lunches.
Face still sort of warm, you helped Shouto unpack the soba and the various side dishes you’d grabbed. He disappeared further into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water and the appropriate utensils, arraying everything in front of you.
“So this is going to be your first run,” you said conversationally, after you’d taken your first bite of soba. “Got any lucky omega in mind?”
Shouto’s eyes darted up from his chopsticks to your face, grey and blue pinning you. “I have… someone in mind,” he said, after a moment.
A strange twinge made itself known in your chest again. You ignored it, shoving more noodles into your mouth determinedly.
“I am sure you will have absolutely no trouble, but I am happy to give you a quick rundown of all the usual hiding spots anyway,” you said. “Most omegas actually end up not too far into the preserve because they want to be caught, so it should be pretty easy.”
One of Shouto’s brows quirked the tiniest bit. “I have reason to believe I’ll need to follow at least a few miles.”
You felt your own eyebrows lift. Not too many omegas went super far in, unless they were looking to avoid someone or pose a real challenge. You went miles in specifically for that reason as well—to steer clear of the action, not that it was likely to find you anyway—and get up your tree before anyone came looking.
“There’s fewer spots that far out because the brush gets all scraggly at the coast,” you said. “There’s a few outcroppings though that I’ve seen omegas go for. You really think your intended will go that far?”
Shouto considered you for a long moment, those mismatched eyes roving over you. “I do.”
Whoever it was, they were going to make him work for it, huh? You suppressed a growing spot of offense on his behalf.
“And you’re sure about this person?” you asked.
Shouto nodded. “I have been sure since I was very small.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the same time as your stomach seemed to drop. That was very sweet—and also strangely disheartening to hear.
Why was that disheartening?
“Then—do you think they’re for sure your life mate?” you asked, taking a careful, studied sip of water.
“I do,” Shouto answered. The simplicity of his statement spoke for itself. You were a beta and did not have quite the same capacity to detect your mate as an alpha, but you knew alphas always knew. You wondered if he’d always known he was going to end up an alpha if he’d had that instinctive understanding since he was young.
You wondered why he’d never said anything, all those years you’d grown up together.
Your heart did a strange dip, sinking at the same time it lifted for him.
“I’m really happy for you Shouto. I’m glad I came back just in time to see you find happiness, when it feels like I have already missed so much else,” you told him.
Shouto leaned forward, catching your eye. His gaze was serious where it caught yours. “I am glad you came back, too. You have been… missed,” he said.
Your heartbeat fluttered, and you gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the feeling. It would not do to be too overwhelmed by Shouto. Not now.
You managed a smile, and quickly rerouted the conversation back to the hiding spots you knew, and the forest trails you’d seen most omegas utilize. Shouto watched you carefully, and you hoped he was committing the information to memory.
After that the conversation turned to more innocuous topics, a rehashing of some of your shared childhood memories, some picking on Touya. The soba disappeared between the two of you, as well as all the side dishes you’d brought. Shouto was incredibly easy to talk to, you found—a fascinating blend of the earnest, slight shit-stirrer of a little boy you’d known and a blandly funny adult man. He had some of Touya’s underlying propensity towards intensity, and some of his mother’s thoughtful sweetness—and you liked the way the familiar traits blended into something faceted and interesting.
He really had grown up.
After lunch he let you explore more of the station, showing you all the compartments on the fire engines, explaining all the equipment. On the way to the door he also let you rifle through the gear bays, showing you his own rack of turnout gear.
He even let you try his jacket on, looking like he was suppressing a smile when the heaviness of it weighed your arms down, watching you flap your arms around, marveling as what was easily twenty pounds of heat-proof fabric resisted you.
No wonder he needed such an intense workout routine.
You couldn’t help but be amazed by it all—who Shouto had turned into, and the fact that he had such an impressive job, one that fit him so well. The fact that he was an adult now, with goals and ambitions that were a lot more grounded than yours. The fact that he was an alpha of all things, and could lift you up into a firetruck as easily as you’d once lifted him off Touya’s hip.
It was so much to contemplate, and you watched him, helplessly fascinated, as he led you around.
You lingered for long enough that the sky was tinging pink and orange by the time you left, and Shouto saw you to the door, insisting on plugging in his number to your phone so you could text when you got home. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner down the street, a strange warmth suffusing you as you walked. It kept you warm the entire way home, despite the cool evening air.
It was only when you arrived at your mother’s front door, shooting off your promised text to Shouto that you realized that you were mooning like a girl returning home from a date—a completely embarrassing, inappropriate tact for your mind to take with someone who had been your childhood friend. Your childhood junior.
Besides, Shouto had explicitly said he had someone in mind already, someone he intended to follow during the run. And you were too old for him, and a beta as well. Alpha-beta couplings were rare—and if Shouto had known who his life mate was since he was very small, and never given any indication it was a beta—well that spoke for itself.
You shook your head as you let yourself in through the door, trying to slough off the feeling as you called a greeting to your mother. It was sad you’d never get to haul him up a tree after you, the way you’d promised when you were kids. But such was life, you guessed.
Shouto may have grown up into an admirable man and a beautiful alpha—but he was off limits to you. You’d make sure you treated him with nothing but the respect and friendly fondness he deserved. Nothing else.
Absolutely nothing else.
Chōdo anata no yūkō-tekina kinjo no Kaibutsu @kyodaina-kaibutsu - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
