texts between you and your friendly neighbour (spiderman)
fluff, slight angst but it gets resolved, smau, strangers to friends, (no mj in this universe)
note: I love peter Parker I love spiderman
October 12th
8:32 am
Y/N: is this Peter from 12b?
Peter: Yes! Is this Y/N from 11b?
Y/N: yes
Peter: Cool :D Is everything okay?
Y/N: no.
Peter: Oh
Y/N: I get that you might have stuff to do in the middle of the night EVERY NIGHT but can u be a little bit quieter plz????
Y/N: I work early morning and u wake me up nealey every day 😔
Peter: Oh shit
Peter: Sorry I had no idea the walls are that thin
Peter: I promise I’ll be quieter
Y/N: thank u
Peter: No problem
October 14th
1:03 pm
Y/N: *image attachment*
Y/N: these from you?
Peter: Nice right
Peter: A little apology from your noisy neighbour 🌷
Y/N: ass kisser
Peter: OI
October 17th
8:06pm
Y/N: hey do u have any spare quarters? I got laundry to do and I’m all out
Peter: Uh eyag jusy one scecond
Y/N: ?
Y/N: can we try again in English
Peter: Sry gimme a min
Peter: I’ll meet u in the laundry toim in ten?
Y/N: yes I’ll see u in the laundry toim
Peter:
October 20th
12:09am
Y/N: what the hell happened to you
Peter: Wdym?
Y/N: uhm ur face?? who beat u up
Peter: Oh that
Peter: It’s nothing
Y/N: it’s definitely something
Y/N: are you okay?
Peter: I’m fine don’t worry about me
Y/N: I am worried
Peter: Wow.. what a good friend 🩷
Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves
Peter: It’s fine it doesn’t even hurt
Y/N: so macho and strong
Peter: Ofc 💪
October 22nd
11:34pm
Peter: Oh my god can u hear that
Y/N: LMAO YES
Peter: It surely can’t be that good
Y/N: nobody is good enough to make u scream that loud
Peter: Oh really
Y/N: gross
Peter: Are they gonna get an angry message too
Y/N: no those r just reserved for u
Peter: Oh wow
Peter: I feel so special
October 24th
9:44 am
Y/N: do u jog
Y/N: or gym or smth
Peter: Uh yeah to both
Peter: Why
Y/N: just wondering
Peter: Did my incredible physique and big muscles tip u off
Y/N: yeah they were so visible in ur juicy tracksuit
Peter: SHUT UP
Y/N: u just looked soooooo juicy
Peter: 🤬🤬🤬
Peter: Erase that from ur memory
Y/N: *image attachment*
Y/N: shall i erase this too
Peter: FUCK OFF
October 25th
9:23pm
Y/N: hey so I know this is last minute but
Y/N: I’m throwing Halloween party at my place if ur free
Peter: Idk it’s kind of a long commute
Y/N: har har har
Peter: Ofc I wanna come
Peter: Thank u for the invite!
Y/N: costumes not optional
Y/N: I won’t let u in if ur not dressed❌
Peter: I’ll make sure I’m looking my best
October 30th
7:09pm
Peter: *image attachment*
Peter: How’s my costume
Y/N: woah
Y/N: r u that Star Wars guy
Peter: That Star Wars guy???
Peter: U mean Kylo ren??
Y/N: yeah i never watched Star Wars sorry x
Peter: Girl
Y/N: don’t girl me
Peter: How have u not watched star wars??
Y/N: cause I’m not a big fat nerd
Peter: Right
Peter: R u busy tonight?
Y/N: I am not
Peter: Cool
Peter: I have them all on dvd we are getting through as many as we can tonight
Y/N: is this a threat
Peter: Yes
October 31st
12:45am
Peter: Did u get home safe x
Y/N: gosh ur so funny
Y/N: the movies weren’t half bad yk
Peter: We got through two before you fell asleep on my shoulder
Y/N: YH sorry about that…
Peter: No worries x it was so cute when you drooled all over my shoulder
Y/N: die
October 31st
9:10pm
Y/N: are the flowers from you?
Peter: Guilty
Y/N: awwww u spoil me
Peter: Just a housewarming gift
Y/N: most people brought beer
Peter: What can I say I’m a stand up guy
Peter: I like your costume
Y/N: thanks!! It’s kinda hard to move around tho.. I assume iron man had a much easier time than I am
Peter: Yeah well his suit wasn’t made out of cardboard
Y/N: unfortunately I cannot afford nanotech
Y/N: are u gonna just text me all night or are u gonna come over and talk to me?
Peter: On my way ma’am
October 31st
11:09 pm
Y/N: bro this beer pong is getting serious u have to come look
Y/N: wait did u leave I can’t find u anywhere
Y/N: peter?
November 1st
1:02am
Peter: Hey I’m sorry I had to leave so randomly
Peter: Something urgent came up
Y/N: a goodbye would’ve been nice 🥀
Peter: I’m sorry 😔 it was urgent
Y/N: nah dw im just joking
Y/N: you okay?
Peter: I will be once u forgive me
Y/N: sigh maybe I will if a pizza was in my lap and return of the Jedi was on my tv
Peter: Be there in fifteen
November 3rd
12:47pm
Y/N: what are u doing November 15th
Peter: Hmm probably nothing
Y/N: would u like to come to friendsgiving hosted at my humble abode
Peter: friendsgiving?
Y/N: yeahh smth me and my friends do every year before the real thing
Y/N: and feel free to invite anyone u want as well
Y/N: ur friend Frank? was that his name
Peter: Uh
Peter: Idk about that but I’d love to come
Y/N: perfect
November 4th
3:45pm
Y/N: are you not home?
Peter: No why
Y/N: I was gonna return ur dvds u forgot them at mine
Y/N: wait how did u leave I didn’t even hear ur door
Peter: Uh
Peter: I left quietly
Y/N: okay…
November 7th
11:47pm
Peter: Hey u up?
Y/N: uhm yeah
Peter: Perfect
Peter: So by any chance do u know basic first aid?
Y/N: I guess why
Peter: *image attachment*
Peter: Ur services would be greatly appreciated
Y/N: BRO
Y/N: 😭😭😭 Peter wtf happened to u
Peter: I was
Peter: I got mugged
Y/N: mugged????
Peter: The streets are ruthless
Y/N: all those muscles and u didn’t fight back??
Peter: Hey u should see the other guy
Y/N: I’m sure he’s battered
Y/N: can’t believe u had to fight him alone
Y/N: god where’s spiderman when u need him
Peter: I know right!!!!!!
Peter: Can u come over now 💔
Y/N: alright I’m coming calm ur tits
Peter: My tits are perfectly fine thanks
November 10th
5:45pm
Y/N: r these flowers gonna be a regular thing now?
Peter: Only when I pass by the bodega
Peter: Which is basically everyday so yeah
Y/N: how thoughtful and kind🩷
Peter: Am I finally forgiven for being loud all the time
Y/N: let’s not get ahead of ourselves here
November 12th:
6:34pm
Peter: Hey do i need to bring food to Thanksgiving
Y/N: friendsgiving
Peter: Yes friendsgiving
Y/N: and yes u have to
Peter: Shit
Y/N: can’t cook?
Peter: Yeah I live off protein powder lowkey
Y/N: LOL
Y/N: u have to bring smth tho… so u bette get in that kitchen
Peter: Fine
Peter: If I make something tonight will u be my test bunny
Y/N: do i have to
Peter: Sorry babe u do
Peter: I’ll be over with the goods later
Y/N: are u gonna bring the food too?
Peter: Cheeky
November 14th
9:12pm
Y/N: yk u disappear a lot
Peter: I do?
Y/N: you do.. noticing things
Peter: Noticing what??
Y/N: shhhhhh
November 15th
6:07pm
Y/N: uhmmmmm is that Frank
Peter: Yes?
Y/N: wow 😍 u didn’t tell me how hot he was
Peter: Y/N.
Y/N: sooo is he single or what 🩷🩷🩷
Peter: Shut up
Peter: He’s taken and about thirty years too old for you
Y/N: age ain’t nothing but a number
Peter: Ohhhh shit i just remembered he has to go home early actually 😔😔😔 Shoot!!
Y/N: LMAO
November 16th
7:12pm
Y/N: hey where’d you go we’re about to eat
Y/N: peter?
Y/N: are u seriously doing this again??
Y/N: are y gonna do this everytime I invite u to smth? In front of all my friends ?
Y/N: yk if u don’t wanna come next time just don’t show up
November 16th
10:28 pm
Peter: Y/N
Peter: Can i come over?
Y/N: sorry I’m cleaning
Peter: I’ll help you clean
Y/N: I don’t need help
Peter: I’ll keep you company then
Y/N: peter stop okay
Peter: I’m sorry Y/N
Y/N: I don’t want any apologies
Y/N: I just want some space plz I need to think
Y/N: I’ll talk to u later
Peter: alright
November 18th
9:07pm
Y/N: I’m gonna ask u smth and I want u to be honest with me
Peter: Anything yeah
Y/N: and u cannot lie to me
Peter: I won’t I promise
Y/N: and also dont freak out
Peter: I definitely wont
Y/N: are u spiderman?
Peter: what
Y/N: idk I’ve just been thinking about it and it makes so much sense
Y/N: you always randomly disappear when spiderman HAPPENS to be fighting someone halfway across the city
Y/N: ur always getting beat up and then somehow like a day later ur completely healed??
Y/N: and u always leave ur house without leaving ur front door so i guess u use ur balcony which is about ten feet off the ground so how else would u do that
Y/N: oh and I downloaded that spider tracker app and he (you) is ALWAYS by our apartment soooo
Y/N: am I right?
Y/N: peter??
Y/N: i can hear u moving around in ur place okay don’t ignore me
Peter: Can I come over?
Y/N: yes
November 19th
7:07pm
Peter: *image attachment*
Y/N: am I just gonna get spiderman selfies now?
Peter: Yes you are
Y/N: I think J Jonah Jameson will love these
Peter: Don’t even start
Peter: And you can’t lie this is sick
Peter: Don’t I look so cool swinging all over the city
Y/N: sigh I guesssss
Peter: I’ll take u one day then you’ll see
Y/N: in ur dreams Parker
Peter: That’s Spiderman to you
this is jsut smth short and sweet because im going on holiday tonight so!! Wont be posting for a week x
notice peter asking u to patch him up knowing he’s gonna be healed in like ten minutes…
(Nerd)Gojo is your next-door neighbour, whose window happens to perfectly align with yours. You catch him doing some interesting one night. And many nights after that.
TW: nsfw and y/n is lowkey a perv but gojo is into it
Despite what your evening activities might suggest, you are not a pervert.
Really, if anything, this whole entire situation is completely not your fault. It's not your fault that your neighbours house is so close to yours, or that the bedroom of their teenage son happens to face yours perfectly. The houses are mirrors of each other and your bedroom window is perfectly aligned with his. And it’s definitely not your fault that every night, like clockwork, Gojo leans back in his bed, trousers pushed down his waist, and gets himself off.
You didn’t really notice Gojo much before. He was your next-door neighbour, and when you moved in a few months ago he had shown up standing shyly behind his mother with a saran-wrapped plate of brownies. There were quick introductions but not many words from him. You’d made eye contact once, and his cheeks had flushed a bright red and he’d quickly looked away.
You thought he was kinda cute. The stark white hair, the bright blue eyes. The glasses that were slightly too big for his face, the long deft fingers that pushed them up the bridge of his nose every few seconds. You saw him around school, always with the same few friends and always walking out of the advanced classes. But you guys didn’t talk. Small waves and polite smiles when you both came in at the same time, or whenever your mother had leftovers for you to walk over and give.
It was an accident. You usually keep your blinds closed, especially at night. You learned the hard way that Gojo likes to stay up all night doing god knows what on that PC of his, the light from his monitor illuminating bright enough to disturb you in your own room. You were usually long asleep by then, but one night, you were thirsty. And it was on your way back to bed, your arms alive with goosebumps from the early morning cold, that you just had an urge to look. You don’t know why. Maybe just curiosity, to see if he was still awake. It was fruitless. It was a school night, after all, and so you doubted that he would be.
But you were wrong. Gojo wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t playing some game on his PC or on call loud enough that you could hear him if you didn’t shut your window. No, Gojo was lying down on his bed, one hand holding his phone and the other tightly circled around his cock. Your face burned, and your mouth dropped open almost instantly. And you should’ve looked away. Should’ve shut your curtains and willed that image to get out of your head and slept like nothing had happened. But you didn’t.
When did Gojo get hot? Since when did he have muscles, abs that perfectly line his stomach, biceps that flex as he brings a hand up to his mouth to spit into it lewdly. You watched with bated breath as he slid it down beneath the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers, the material tight on his thick thighs. The head was flushed, and he was long, slender, thick, and you watched his hand move up and down faster, watched his thumb ghost over the tip, teasing himself. His eyes were half-lidded, focused on whatever was on his phone, the blue light shining across his glasses.
You watched the flush spread up his chest, watched his mouth move in silent pleas and whimpers you wished you could hear. And when he came, head thrown back on his pillow, white tufts of hair stuck to his forehead as he finished all over his fingers, that is when you decided you should close the blinds and call it a night.
It took you ages to fall asleep. Mind plagued with the images of those foggy glasses, the look of pure pleasure on his face. You were determined not to follow in his footsteps, not to pay attention to the throbbing between your legs. Because of course, that would be pushing it too far. Watching him get off is okay, but getting yourself off to that pretty look on his face is too much.
You try not to look the next day. Really, you do. But your will is not strong, and it’s three in the morning on a weekend, so your morals are low enough to peek through. And he’s there. Again. And you learn, as the days go by, that Gojo sticks to a very strict routine, and on the rare nights you’re shameless enough to look, he’s always waiting for you.
A small part of you thinks he knows. There is no way he doesn’t, not with how shamelessly exposed his room is to the outside, and specifically to you. Gojo is clueless from what you’ve gathered, despite how smart he is, but there’s no way that he’s that oblivious. His blinds are always wide open. If you can see so clearly into his room he can definitely see yours.
You start to notice Gojo more, after that. You two run in entirely different social circles, but you pass him in the hallways. He likes to wear these turtlenecks, tight around his chest, or these button-ups that he rolls up to expose those smooth forearms. He also likes to bite the end of his pencils while he’s thinking, fingers curling around the end. He’s quiet unless he’s correcting a teacher or laughing loudly with his friends. He opens up around them, grinning wide enough you think it might split his face open.
It's weird, being so aware of his presence suddenly. You never realised that he was in your English class, or that you had the same study hall, and you never noticed how he seemed to leave school around the same time you did.
It turns out you were both in the program that paired up seniors with the younger students for tutoring. You’re not the smartest student in the world, but an average senior is on an even playing field with a dumb freshman, so it’s easy work. It’s only an hour after school in the library, and you saw him one day on your way out.
It’s raining. Pouring down heavily enough that you stand uselessly by the front doors of the school, not brave enough to walk out and get yourself soaked. You haven’t dressed for bad weather. It had been warm in the morning, so you’re wearing a pretty thin long-sleeved shirt, and have no jacket for protection. Your parents are both at work, and you are contemplating using the last ten bucks you have on an Uber, when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
You jolt, almost dropping your phone from your hand. You turn quickly, only to find Gojo standing behind you.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He says quickly, clutching the books in his arms closer to his chest.
You shake your head. “No, no don’t worry, I’m just jumpy.” You laugh, a little nervous.
It dawns on you that that is the first time you’ve spoken to him since you’ve developed your new peeping habit. You swallow, flashing him a smile to try and will the image of him with his clothes off out of your head.
“Everything okay?” You ask.
He’s wearing a hoodie today, thick and warm, and you wish you’d had the same sense that morning. Gojo glances outside through the glass doors, at the steady pour of rain.
“I thought- You walk, right? Home? I was wondering if you wanted a ride. Because of the rain.” He says, gesturing with his head to the storm outside.
You aren’t expecting that. You warm a little at the fact he actually thought about you. “Really? It wouldn’t be a bother?”
“Of course not.” He smiles slightly. “You’re my neighbour.”
“I’d love one, then. Thank you.”
His smile widens. “No need to thank me.”
You both start towards the doors. You were already dreading the walk to his car. Gojo must notice your inner turmoil because he fixes you with a puzzled look. He glances down at your attire, pointing at your thin shirt.
“You didn’t bring a jacket? Or anything?” He asks.
“No.” You whine. “I didn’t realise it was gonna rain!”
You hear a noise from him that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. You shoot him a glare. One that is aimed quite high. The height difference is very noticeable when the two of you are standing right next to each other.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“I heard you!”
He betrays himself with the grin on his face. He holds up a hand in surrender, and then passes you the books in his hand. “Here, hold these for a second.”
You take the books out of his hand. Gojo reaches and grabs the back of his hoodie, quickly shucking it off. The t-shirt he has on underneath rides up, and you can see the logo of his boxers peeking over the waistband of his jogger, the happy trail of white hair that slips underneath them. You quickly dart your eyes away. The sight of that is enough to remind you of things you really shouldn’t think about when he’s this close to you.
Gojo grabs the books out of your hand and holds out the hoodie to you.
You look at him like he’s crazy. “What? Gojo, no, I’m not taking your hoodie.”
“It’s fine, just take it.”
You shake your head. “No! What are you going to use?”
“I’ll be fine, I run hot. Here.”
He practically pushes it into your hands, ignoring your protests. His fingers brush against yours for just a second, soft. You thank him again, and slip it over your head. It’s warm and smells like him; something woodsy and fresh that fills your nose as the collar brushes against your throat.
It’s less daunting to walk to Gojo’s car with the protection of his hoodie. It doesn’t take too long, but he is still pretty soaked by the time you got in and sat down in the passenger seat. His shirt sticks to his skin, and his glasses are speckled with rain drops. You point at them.
“Your glasses.” You reach over the console and carefully take them off his face.
You wipe them off with your shirt, the only dry thing in the car, and carefully put them back on. You give him a smile, brushing a stray of white hair out the way.
“There you go.” You peer at them. “Is that better?”
Gojo nods quickly, running a hand through his hair. His face looks a little red, which is weird, because it’s cold in his car. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thanks. Thank you.”
The ride is shorter than you’d hoped. It’s the first time the two of you had ever actually spoken for longer than a small conversation at your front door, and it’s nice. You get along surprisingly well. He’s not as shy as you thought he’d be, and how easy-going and nice it is to talk to him is not helping the slight crush you’ve been developing.
You thank Gojo about six hundred more times as you finally arrive home. He insists it wasn’t a big deal, and he also insists on walking you to your door. Even though it is literally not even a minute away from his.
You sigh as you reach your destination, trying to hide the smile on your face. “Thank you so much for walking me the two steps to my front door.” You say.
“Of course. Who knows what could’ve happened if I hadn’t.” He nods solemnly and you laugh.
You reach for your keys, and just before you can let yourself in, he stops you, a tentative hand on your shoulder.
“Wait! A second, just-“
He rips a piece of paper from one of the notebooks in his hand. He takes a pen out of his pocket, and takes the cap off with his teeth. He scribbles something on it, then holds it out for you.
You take it from his hand. In a messy, rushed scrawl, you make out his phone number.
“Just- You know, in case it rains again. And you need a ride.” He nods.
You beam, bashful. “I’ll hold you to that. And I’ll give you your hoodie back tomorrow.”
Gojo perks up. “See you then.”
You text him that night to make sure the number is correct. And he answers back with a plethora of emojis that make you bite back a smile at the dinner table, tucking your phone in your pocket.
That night, you hang his hoodie on the back of your desk chair to dry. And once it does, you put it back on. You’re indulging a little. It’s comfy, the material soft and clearly expensive. And if tonight’s the only night you’ll have with it you’ll enjoy it while you can. It’s cold, too.
Soon enough, night falls, and you can’t sleep. You tried watching a few episodes of some show on Netflix, but you were restless, rolling around in your bed. You drum your fingers against your chest, duvet thrown to the floor.
You don’t want to look tonight. It’s not like it's a nightly thing, or anything. You don’t set an alarm to go peep outside your window at three in the morning. It’s only sometimes. Very rarely. When curiosity gets the better of you and your Twitter feed isn’t doing enough.
It takes another minute of contemplating in your head for your desperation to win. Seeing him and being so close to him earlier has only made the thought of him louder in your head, and you just can’t help yourself. Your laptop is abandoned on your bed, its bright light illuminating your room. Your window is only slightly ajar. You like sleeping to the sound of rain and the breeze is cold on your legs where they’re exposed in the small sleep-shorts you have on. You pull the hoodie down over your fingertips, and when you push the curtains open, he’s there.
And fuck, it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he can just look that good. Like some sort of porn star, eyes shut and blissed out as he works himself quickly. His hand moves fast tonight, fingers tightening as he swipes them over his tip, cock leaking as he bites at his bottom lip. He’s not got his phone in his other hand tonight; it seems Gojo has taken to his memory, eyes screwed shut as he imagines something, or someone.
And it’s that thought, that Gojo might be thinking of his own crush or girlfriend, or anything, that jolts you out of your stupor. This is wrong. So, so wrong. If this was the other way round- Well, you wouldn’t really mind if it was him watching you, but that’s not important. What’s important is that you shouldn’t be doing this.
You go to shut the blind and close your window, but as you reach out for it you slip. On some books you left on the floor, old clothes you didn’t put in your hamper. It doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is the sound that slips out of your lips, half a shriek and half a scream. It’s only made worse when you try to stop yourself from falling by grabbing the ledge, but instead knock over the candle on your window sill, and promptly fall to the ground. You groan from where you landed on the floor, rubbing at your side. You mumble curses as you rise to your feet, pushing your hair out of your face. You’re glad nobody saw that.
It’s only when you reach out to close your window that you realise somebody did.
Gojo is sitting up in his bed, covers pulled over his body. It’s just your luck that you’d forgotten to turn your laptop off, because the light is bright enough to illuminate you and your guilty face. His eyes narrow just slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. And when they widen, and you realise what he’s realised, you make a mortified noise, and drag you blinds closed.
Your stomach churns, and you think you might be sick. Embarrassment floods your veins and you cover your face with your hands, cursing under your breath. He’s going to hate you. He’s going to never speak to you again, and-
Your phone buzzing on your bed interrupts your mini breakdown. And when you flip it over and see his name across your screen you almost kneel over and die. You curse yourself for texting him earlier, all giddy from him giving you a ride home. You consider not picking up, but you both locked eyes about ten seconds ago, so he knows you’re awake. You let it ring a few more times before you pick it up, hand still covering your face.
“Hello?” His voice comes out a little breathless, and your face burns even brighter.
“Hello.” You answer back meekly.
A beat. You hear some movement on the other line. Your throat feels dry, and you wouldn’t make conversation right now if your life depended on it.
“Y/N? Are you still there?”
You make a noise that sounds like a yes, and he takes it as one.
“Can- Can you come to the window?”
You bite at your lip. Your side still hurts from where you’d fallen, and there’s no hope of you even trying to lay down in bed, let alone fall asleep. You suppose you should have this awkward conversation now, rather than later.
You trudge to the window and slowly open the blinds. Gojo is no longer on his bed, but standing at the window, phone held up to his ear. He’s slipped some sweatpants on but he’s still shirtless, and you try very hard to keep your eyes on his face. He’s not got his glasses on, and you almost don’t recognise him for a moment, but you’d know those blue eyes anywhere.
Nobody speaks. You both just stand there, staring, and you watch the sharp lines of his throat move as he swallows.
“You… Did you see, uh. See something?” He struggles to get the words out and you almost laugh at how horrifying this conversation is.
“Yes.”
It’s easy to see Gojo’s blush travel down his pale skin, over the planes of his cheeks. His grip tightens on the phone.
“Is this- Wait, hold on.”
You watch him fumble besides him before he grabs his glasses and clumsily pushes them onto his face. He blinks, and then leans just a little closer.
“Are you- Is that my hoodie?”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I was cold.” You quickly move to take it off.
“No- You don’t need to take it off, Y/N.”
You shake your head quickly. “I do! I do, you’ve been so kind to me and I- I’ve been doing this.”
Gojo’s brows furrow in confusion. “Have you- How long have you-“
You squeeze your eyes shut, holding up a hand to stop him from speaking .“I’m sorry! Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’ll move out, I’ll never open my blinds again.” You babble.
“Y/N-“
“You must think I’m such a creep.” You whine. “And I am! I’m a creep!”
“Y/N!” He leans forward on one arm, as if he’s going to climb out the window to come to your room.
Gojo raising his voice silences you quite effectively. Your mouth clicks shut, and you wait with bated breath for him to continue.
“I never… I never said I minded.”
Gojo speaks carefully, like it’s the first time he’s ever spoken to a girl like this. Or flirted? Is that what this is? Either way, despite your shock, the effect he has on you must be evident on your face, because you watch his lips quirk up into a sly smile. Your reaction seems to give him a bit of confidence, spurs him on, and he doesn’t stop.
“I just wish I’d known I’d had an audience. Could’ve made it more fun for you.” He murmurs.
Your mouth opens to reply but no words come out. The Gojo in front of you is nothing like the shy guy you spoke to in front of the school gates a few hours ago. He’s flashing you a cheeky smile, and you know the way he’s standing is only helping his muscles flex, making him look all the more appealing.
“I- What?”
Gojo tilts his head a little, pushing his glasses up with knuckles. “Well. Since you’ve been watching me for so many nights, I think it’s only fair you return the favour.”
Tomorrow you’ll blame it on the lack of sleep. The pain in your side, or maybe the fact you’re ovulating today. You’ll find some reason to explain away why you instantly agree, hands slipping under his hoodie to take it off.
Guys idk Iwas ovulating and I’m so super busy so.. I wrote this in a day.. plz enjoy 🩷
Also!! I’m almost at 1k!! So event coming sonnn watch out guys 😁😁
TRACK TWELVE: JASON TODD // boyfriend - ariana grande
trope: fake relationship
warning: nsfw, car sex
event link
Jason is so touchy. His hand burns where it’s settled across your waist, ensuring your side is flush against his own. He’s all hard muscle, warm skin that presses against you. He’s wearing a button up that stretches over his arms and his chest, and the material is soft underneath your hands. He’s holding your drink for you, your second glass of wine that tastes so expensive you feel guilty drinking it.
This would be nice for someone else. To anyone outside looking in, the fact you’re joined at the hip, the way he occasionally brushes your hair to the side to whisper something in your ear, it all looks so sickeningly sweet and couple-like. You, on the other hand, are trying very hard not to throw up in your mouth.
This entire thing, the waist-holding and the drink-holding, it’s all a lie.
When Jason had approached you for this, you’d thought he was crazy. It was something out of a cheap 90’ romcom. Jason, after a violent argument with his brothers, had sworn that he in fact was not emotionally unstable and that he could keep a girlfriend, and that he even had one he’d been hiding from them. This was all a lie, of course. Especially the whole ‘keeping a girlfriend’ part. There was apparently a week-long getaway that the family had every Thanksgiving, one that Jason had promised to bring his supposed girlfriend to.
That’s where you come in.
You’re apparently the only woman Jason knows that can stand to be around him for a week, and was lonely enough on Thanksgiving to be available. Your own family was away for the holidays, and you were painfully, no boyfriend for you to crash with.
You and Jason are coworkers, and it had taken him three work days to convince you to do it, interrupting your meetings with post-it notes and cornering you at your desk. He begged and begged and the only reason you said yes was because he promised that he’d get you in on the project you’d been begging your boss to let you run. And you’re nothing if not a woman who wants to forward her career, so you’d agreed.
You both took the three hour drive up to the place to corroborate your stories. You’d met at work, fallen in love over spreadsheets and the coffee he brought you every morning. He asked you out, you’d said yes, and the rest was history.
And for the most part, you think it's working.
His family all seemed to like you when you walked in. You’d been nervous. You felt out of place the moment he pulled up into the driveway. The house was nice. Nice was actually an understatement. It was huge, with what looked like three storeys, and you can’t help but let your mouth drop open in shock as you catch sight of it. It looked like those houses you drive by in the middle of nowhere and wonder what millionaire lives inside it. Apparently, Jason’s father.
The drive lit up as Jason pulled in, large trees and greenery lining the pathway. The house was beautiful, big glass windows and beautiful, dark hardwood. You couldn’t help but gasp as you got out of Jason’s car.
“Oh my god. How rich are you?” You marvelled.
“That’s an impolite question.” Jason scolded you lightly. His car beeped as he locked it.
Your feet crunched against the gravel as you walked around, taking in every detail you could. It was more rustic than where you’d figure a rich person would want to live, none of the modern architecture you sort of hate, which gives the family a few good points in your book.
“You know, I’m surprised you work. If my dad had this kind of money I’d be a bum.”
Jason snorted. He linked his arm through yours, and you stiffened before you remembered the whole fake dating ordeal. Jason gave you a look.
“Relax.” He murmurred. “You’re so tense.”
“I’m not tense. I’m just a little nervous.” You admitted.
“My family is fine. A little intrusive. Sort of annoying. And they sometimes talk too much.” You watched as Jason’s face turned slightly sour at the mention of them and you groaned.
“You’re not helping.” You hissed. “Are they- Did we prepare enough?”
“Well, we’re about to find out.” He said bluntly, swinging the door open.
They were all stood in the foyer once he finally managed to drag you into the house. It seemed that Jason’s good looks were not a one-off thing, because the three men that stood in front of you were very attractive. The tallest one you assumed was Dick, Jason’s older brother. He smiled brightly at you as you walked in, his eyes creasing with the size of it, and you immediately liked him. The other brother, Tim, was still young, the remnants of his youth fading away from the softness of his cheeks. His grin was a little more mischievous, and you felt a little on edge at the way he eyed the two of you up.
His father was the most intimidating, a tall, broad man whose presence filled the room. And that face looked familiar, and you quickly realised that Bruce Wayne was standing in front of you. Bruce Wayne, the playboy millionaire that just about anyone with a brain in Gotham knew.
“Your father is Bruce Wayne?” You whispered to Jason.
“I didn't mention it?” Jason smiled at you sweetly and you glared at him before your attention was drawn back to his brothers.
Jason hadn’t gone into too much detail in regards to his relationship with his family. He’d hinted that there was something there that made him reluctant to go to the whole thing, and that your presence would take some of the load off.
Dick came over first. He shook your hand, warm and calloused. “Hi. You must be Y/N. I’m Dick.”
“Yeah you are.” Jason mumbled and you bit back a laugh, giving Dick a smile.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” You said, and before he can get a word in, Tim bounded over.
“You are way to pretty to be dating that beast next to you.” His handshake was much more excited and you laughed a little nervously.
“Thank you. I think.”
Jason rolled his eyes, shoving Tim’s shoulder. “Back off. You’re freaking her out.”
“I’m not freaked out, it’s fine.”
You walked over to Bruce to greet him next. It was strange seeing a man you’ve watched on the news and seen in the paper standing right in front of you like it’s nothing. “Thank you for having me, Mr Wayne.”
His smile was small, his handshake firm. “Please, call me Bruce.”
You felt a little in awe, embarrassingly so, and you nodded, taking a step back to stand with Jason. His hand slips effortlessly against your waist, like it’s been there a thousand times, and you try your hardest to look comfortable.
If you're being honest, it’s not hard to pretend to be in love with Jason.
Jason always had a certain charm about him. Making faces at you during especially boring meetings, offering to stay late to help you finish up work. If you’re being completely honest, part of you likes Jason. You just refuse to let yourself see him as anything but a coworker. Because anything else is too dangerous of a path to go down. It’s hard enough ignoring how good he looks in the work-issued plain white button up, the soft brown eyes that always seem so insistent in making eye contact with you during every conversation.
The place is nice. Really nice, even more from the inside. Jason gave you a tour, showing you the living room, the dining room. The garden with an entire outdoor seating area and a firepit. And then, Jason showed you the room you’d be staying in.
You paused at the door. “There’s only one bed.”
Jason didn’t seem to notice the issue. He walked in easily, and opened up his bag, suspiciously small for the week-long stay, and dumped it into one of the empty drawers. “Clever girl.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” You asked a little nervously, fingers drumming against the handle of your suitcase.
Jason shot you a strange look. “What are you talkinga about? You’ll sleep on the bed.”
You sighed irritatedly. You dragged your suitcase into the room and shut the door behind you. “Well if I’m taking the bed where will you sleep?” You said in a hushed tone.
The situation seemed to dawn on him, because he straightened, pausing his movements. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
Jason shut the drawer with a click. “I’ll take the floor.”
You sat down on the bed with a huff. It was soft, smooth silk that felt slippery beneath your fingers. It was comfortable, and you felt a pang of guilt at him sleeping on the hard floor. “Isn’t there somewhere else you can sleep? I’m sure a huge house like this has a guest room.”
Jason shakes his head. “No, I can’t do that. How’s it going to look if you and I aren’t sleeping in the same room?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
You glanced back down at the bed. It wasn't small. It was big enough for you both, more than big enough. And it can’t be that bad to sleep beside him. You’d place some pillows between you both to stave him off if you have to.
“It’s fine. We’ll just both sleep on the bed.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I really don’t mind.”
You stood, dragging your suitcase to the drawers to stand beside him. You unzipped it, and began packing your own clothes away.
“It’s fine. Who am I to make my fake boyfriend sleep on the floor?”
All in all, you fit in easily with the Waynes. You’re all milling about before dinner, drinking wine and champagne and chatting as Alfred sets the table. Because they do that here. Have a butler to set up the dinner table.
You tap Jason’s hand and he looks down at you, a question in his eyes.
“I need to pee.” You whisper, and he nods, and as if it’s second nature, places a quick kiss to your lips before he lets you go.
Which is fine. And normal. And something you two had previously discussed.
On the way to the lodge, you stopped by the first fast food place you drove past, and you were eating fries from the bottom of the bag when the subject was brought up, leaning against the door to face him. The car park was relatively empty, still early enough in the day that most sane people weren’t eating burgers and fries for breakfast. You’d been discussing how the fake relationship would all work, when the thought crossed your mind. You hadn’t been able to ignore it the second it had, and finally managed to ignore your embarrassment long enough to bring it up.
“So.” You said. “What about PDA?”
“What about it?” He replied with a half smile on his face.
You roll your eyes, sitting up. “Well, won’t it be weird if we don’t kiss or hug or anything? Surely that’s going to be a giveaway?”
Jason fixes you with a look, eyes narrowing. When he speaks his voice is low and teasing. “If you wanna kiss me that bad you can just ask.”
“Ew.” You wrinkle your nose and throw a chip at him and ignore the flutter in your stomach. “I’m being serious, Todd.”
He hums, picking it up and popping it into his mouth. “Probably shouldn’t call me Todd. Too formal. How about babe?”
“Gross.”
“The love of my life?”
You throw another chip at him that he catches it this time. “That’s grosser. And also not what I was asking about.”
Jason thinks for a moment. The car smell like greasy takeout and his pine car freshener, and the radio plays softly in the background as you both eat.
“Well, I’m fine with whatever. As long as you’re comfortable, we can, you know.” He shrugs. “Kiss, hug.”
Your lap suddenly seems very interesting. You may have thought about kissing Jason once or twice, but never under false pretences like this. You think he mistakes the troubled look on your face for something else, because he quickly adds to his earlier sentiment.
“Only if you want to. We don’t have to, I know this is weird-“
“It’s okay. I want to.”
He pauses for a minute, and then grins at you. “You want to?”
“Shut up! Not like that!”
“Well, seeing as you want to kiss me so bad I think we’ll be okay.” He nods solemnly.
You glare at him. “Enough. Only if there’s people around. For appearance sake.”
He takes a big bite of his burger and you grimace as ketchup spreads across half his face. “We’re making rules now?”
“Yes, we are. Rule number one, no kissing when it’s just us around.” You roll your eyes at him. “Stop talking with your mouth full.”
He makes an effort to show you the half-chewed food in his mouth after that.
Knowing it’s just for show doesn’t make his kiss feel any less good. Especially when his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, before he gives you a soft smile, letting you go. The butterflies in your stomach last all the way until you reach the toilet, shutting the door quickly and resting your forehead against it.
It takes a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. You walk to the sink briskly and wash your face with cold water but it does nothing to ease the emotions racing through your head.
Things are getting a little out of hand, you think. Maybe you’ve gaslit yourself into thinking this relationship is real, because you’re starting to like Jason. Not like a fake boyfriend, but something more, something too real for you to process. It had been slow, gradual, but somewhere along the lines the whole fake part of this relationship had blurred. All the soft touches and the nights up talking in his bed. You learnt a lot about him, how good of a man he is. And it makes him about ten times more attractive than he already is.
You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. Only three more days, you tell yourself. Then you and Jason can go back to being coworkers who are just a little closer than normal. You take a breath, and make your way back to the others. By the time you do, everyone is already gathering in the dining hall. Jason is waiting for you in the corridor, and he perks up a little when he sees you coming.
“Hey. How was the bathroom?”
“Very fun. Who knew peeing could be so thrilling?”
He huffs a laugh, grabbing your hand. He laces his fingers between yours and walks you to the dining hall.
Everyone’s already sitting when the two of you walk in. You take your new assigned seat, next to Jason and across from Dick. You’re excited for dinner. You’re excited for every meal you’ve eaten here so far. There must be a whole litany of chefs in their kitchen, because every night you’re eating food that tastes good enough to be from a Michelin star restaurant. Today’s Thanksgiving, so they’ve gone all the way. A roast turkey with golden skin that smells like garlic and rosemary, mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese. There’s so much food you’re not sure where to start, so you’re glad when Jason stands and starts making a plate for you.
“So Y/N,” Tim says, placing a heaving spoon of macaroni and cheese on his plate, “I think we’ve finally known you long enough to start the interrogation.”
Your fork freezes in the air, your bite of greens you stole off of Jason’s plate forgotten. “Uh. Interrogating?”
“Tim, shut up.” Jason shoots him a glare but the boy is not deterred.
“Yeah. Like what black magic Jason did to get you to go out with him, how much he’s paying you.”
You hum as your plate is placed in front of you. “I’m doing it for free, actually. Pro bono.”
“Ha ha.” Jason says dryly.
“Didn’t you guys meet at work?” Dick says, and Tim perks up.
“Ah, yeah now I remember. Are you the pretty girl from his office he always used to rage about?”
Jason’s hand thumps on the table. “Shut up, you freak.”
You sneak a glance at Jason and you think he might be blushing. If looks could kill you’re sure Tim would collapse over the table in a heartbeat, but you’re more focused on the tips of his ears that are turning red.
You grin, cooing at him, and his deathly glare softens as he faces you. “You talked about me? Called me pretty?”
“No. Must have been someone else.” He shrugs lightly and you shove his shoulder.
The food is good and you sigh happily, half of it already wiped clean. “The meal is amazing, Bruce, thank you.”
Jason gives you a glance, and you’re sure it takes a lot for him to suppress his eye roll. “No need to kiss the man’s-“
“Tim!” You cut Jason off before he says something to break the calm atmosphere of the dinner table. “Jason told me you’re going to Ivy University?”
Tim nods proudly. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be studying computer science.”
“That’s amazing. It’s a good school.”
“A great one. We’re all proud of little Tim.” Dick coos, scuffing the boy's dark hair. Tim glares at him, shoving his hand away.
“What do you do, Dick?” You ask.
“I’m a museum curator, actually.”
You almost drop your fork, the metal clinking against the expensive china you’re eating on. “Really? I love museums!”
“You do?” Jason asks at the same time Dick does.
Tim whistles lowly. “Dick move. Don’t even know what your girl likes.”
“Fuck off.”
You ignore their bickering, still looking at Dick with excited eyes. “Yes, I do love them. I’ve been to the ones all around where we live, my favourite is the Museum of Art.”
“That’s my museum!”
“No way!”
Jason sighs a little louder than necessary beside you, but you’re undeterred. You really do love museums. It’s your favorite pastime after work, just wandering down the winding halls and looking at the art hung up and arranged along the walls. Jason hadn’t mentioned his brother worked for your favorite one, but then again, he didn’t know you even liked museums, so you can’t blame him too much.
“You know," Dick says, sitting back in his chair. “I can show you around, if you want. We have a bunch more pieces in the back we don’t put out until later exhibits, so you’d be the first civilian to see them.” He smiles charmingly and you feel your heart flutter a little.
You nod excitedly. “I’d love to!”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Jason cuts in.
He looks considerably more agitated than he had moments ago. You frown a little. “I think I would.”
“You- Why? Museums are boring. Especially if Dick here is showing you around.” He practically snarls and you snort a laugh.
“What’s crawled up your ass?” Tim narrows his eyes. “You’re literally an English nerd, museums are like your wet dream.”
“Tim, we are at the dinner table.” Bruce finally chimes in.
The boy, under his fathers words, immediately looks sheepish. “My fault.”
Jason scoffs. “That makes no sense. It’s an art museum, you idiot, it’s got nothing to do with literature.”
Tim repeats his words in a high pitched voice and you think Jason is about to lunge at him over the table. You place a hand on his arm, squeezing a little.
“Okay, so. Maybe let’s talk about something else for now.” You smile a little sheepishly.
“I agree.” Dick looks grateful that he isn’t the only one easing the tension between his two younger brothers, and you return the sentiment with a knowing look.
Jason scowls at the two of you. “Stop looking at him like that.”
“Like what?” You say.
“Like- Like that.”
Tim rubs at his chin, elbow leaning on the table. “You know. I think Jason’s a little jealous.”
Dick sighs, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, Tim.”
Jason’s face is a comedic mix of annoyed and embarrassed, like he’s not sure if he should leave or flip the table over. You bite back a smile, desperate to try and save some semblance of calm at the table.
“I’m going to gouge your eyes out with my spoon.”
Tim tuts. “Don’t be so vulgar in front of the lady. Dick will have no issue swooping in if you do.”
“Alright, shut up Tim.” Dick rubs his eyes. “Can we just eat?”
“We are eating.”
Dick seems to lose some of the cool he’s been trying so hard to keep, and gives Tim his own stern look. That seems to be a family special. “Can we eat without the arguing?”
It’s interesting watching the way Jason acts around his siblings. They bicker amongst themselves like children, despite the fact that half of you at the table are in your mid-twenties. It’s kind of cute, in a way, the boyish anger on his face as he tries to throw a piece of cornbread at Dick without Bruce catching him.
It of course helps that the reason they are arguing is because he’s jealous of Dick talking to you.
Dinner finishes, luckily with no more incidents. You all eat warm pumpkin pie with dollops of fresh vanilla ice cream at the firepit, and after sitting around and talking in the living room for a while, everyone retreats to their rooms.
The bedroom door clicks softly as you shut it, and you wince, falling back against the bed. “Ugh. I’m so full.”
Jason huffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, nobody told you to have seconds. Of dinner and dessert.”
You groan loudly. “But the food is so good. I haven’t had a proper cooked meal in ages.” You sit up on your elbows, watching Jason flit around the room.
It's only eight in the evening, but the Wayne house is quiet. Despite the fact it’s a holiday, the whole house falls asleep strangely early. It had been a bit of a shock to find out even Tim and Drake turn in so early, the whole building eerily quiet. The second dinner is over they all retreat to their rooms, which is very much the opposite of your own nightly routine, which usually ends at about one in the morning.
You sit up, crossing your legs. “Jason, I’m bored.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Much like you, he also doesn’t sleep early, so he’s in the same boat of boredom as you. “We can do something, if you want.”
“Like what?”
Jason thinks for a moment. He comes over to flop down on the bed beside you, his hair fanning out against the bedsheets. “I don’t know.”
“This is your home town, right? You know any good spots?”
He thinks for a moment. “We could get slushies? There's this place I always used to go to when I was younger.”
You immediately brighten, shaking his arm excitedly. “Oh, yeah! I love slushies!”
Jason looks at you with a soft sort of smile on his face. “I thought you said you were stuffed?”
“A slushy is a drink. That’s a different section of my stomach, which has more than enough space.”
You both change out of your more formal dinner clothes into something more comfortable that’ll stave off the cold. It’s a little stupid to get slushies in November, but you’ll do anything to leave the house. You reach for his bedroom door but Jason stops you, pulling you back.
“No, let’s go from the window.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“The front door is so loud, and then the alarm will go off and they’ll all hear it.” He shakes his head, already irritated at the prospect of his brothers finding out he’s leaving the house. “And they won’t leave us alone.”
“So turn off the front door alarm then!” You say and he shushes you.
“Be quiet.” He whispers. “You’ll wake them up.”
“Wake- It’s half eight in the evening!”
“My family are all freaks who sleep at seven! Now come on, it’s easy.”
He walks to the window and pushes back the black curtains and unlatches the window. A cold gust of wind blows into the room and you cross your arms. You watch, thoroughly unimpressed as he gestures. “You go first.”
“Are you insane? Are you actually being serious right now?”
Jason huffs, walking over. His hand is warm as it slips into yours, and you don’t protest as he drags you over to where he was standing. You peer out the window, shivering a little at the cold weather. To be honest, it’s not that far. You’re on the second floor, but the windows are low, and there’s even a small roof you can climb down on then hang off to get to the ground. This all, Jason tells you with a hint of excitement in his voice.
You still think he might be crazy. You narrow your eyes at him. “How many times have you done this?”
“Pretty much every single family holiday we ever spent here. Up until I was about eighteen."
“Well, you’re in your twenties and you’re still doing it.”
You look down a little nervously. “Can you go first at least?”
Jason eyes you for a moment. “Just don’t pussy out once I’m down there.”
He easily makes his way out. You don’t mind waiting and watching from the top. You get a perfect sight of his arms flexing as he drops down onto the floor. He brushes his clothes off and looks up at you.
“Alright, babe. It’s all you now.”
You curse under your breath, hooking your leg over the windowsill. “Can’t believe I’m doing this.”
You manage to get both legs out easily. Your knuckles are almost white with how hard you hold onto the side of the wall as you carefully step onto the small roof. Jason cheers quietly and you shush him.
You manage to let go of the wall, after a bit of encouragement from Jason. Your plan is to slowly turn, lower yourself down and drop from the edge. Your plan is not to slip on a few dried leaves and fall off, yet that still seems to be what happens.
The drop isn’t that far, and you’re sure maybe you would've only twisted an ankle or bruised a couple limbs. You don’t need to worry about any of that though, because instead of landing on the hard grass you land on Jason. He manages to catch you, arms wrapping around your waist as you claw your fingers into him.
“Oh my god! Oh my god, I nearly died.” You gasp, and he laughs breathily, depositing you softly onto the floor.
“You’re okay.” He reassures you. “Calm down.”
“I am calm.” You mumble.
You notice that his hands still haven’t left your waist, warmth seeping through the fabric of your hoodie. You both stand there like that, lit faintly by the small porch lights around the porch, your arms around each other. Then you hear a noise from inside the house and the moment is broken, and the two of you pull apart.
The car ride takes longer than you thought it would, but it makes sense. He has to drive out the forest the house resides in, and the winding roads take a while to get out of. You flick through the CDs in your glovebox. He’s actually driving your car, since you would rather keel over and die than ride over here on his motorcycle death trap. That, and it wouldn’t have fit any of your bags.
Jason eventually pulls into an old gas station. It's the first one you pass once you drive into the local town, and it looks like it’s been here for a good couple years. It's old, the sign leaning and the lights almost flickering off, but you’re excited all the same. He parks and you hop out quickly. You make your way inside, immediately sighing at the warmth that hits your face. You rub your hands together, your hoodie not doing much to stave off the cold. You make a beeline for the slushy machine and Jason follows behind you.
“Aw, yes, they have blue. That’s my favourite flavour.” You grin, grabbing the biggest cup.
“Your favourite flavour is a colour?”
“Obviously.”
You fill up the cup as much as you can, until the cold blue spills over the side and onto your fingers. You hiss, and Jason snorts as you lick the mess off your fingers.
“Nice one.” He drawls, grabbing his own cup. He fills it with strawberry, and you wrinkle your nose.
He notices and gives you a playful glare, popping a straw in his drink and yours. “Red’s better.”
“No it’s not. Blue is.”
“Shall we make purple?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes.
“Oh, quiet.”
You wander down the aisles, grabbing some snacks as you go. Takis, M&Ms, whatever even slightly takes you fancy. When your arms get too full to carry it all you hand half of them to Jason. He looks at them with a puzzled expression.
“What’s this for?”
“Snacks!” You shake the Takis in his face before stuffing it into his arms. “Your house is so healthy! I need some real food.”
“This is not real food. This is poison."
“Yes, yes. I love MSG.”
You both dump the food onto the counter. The cashier looks slightly annoyed at the mountain of it in front of him, and you smile a little sheepishly. You dig into your pocket for your wallet, but Jason pushes your hands away.
“I got it.”
You frown slightly. “But-“
“Shut it.” He fixes you with a jokingly stern look and you bite back a smile.
“Alright, then.”
Jason grabs the plastic bag from the cashier, nodding in thanks. You practically skip out the shop, tongue and teeth stained a bright, unnatural blue.
Jason smiles slightly at the sight of you. “You’ve got…”
He looks like he’s going to gesture. Instead, he reaches forward, swiping at your lip. He’s gentle and his thumb lingers a second too long for you to brush it off as nothing.
“Thank you.” You manage to get out. You clear your throat, shaking your drink at him. “You know, this was a very good idea.”
Jason throws the bags of food in the back of the car and you both get in. “All my ideas are good.”
“Debatable.”
The drive home feels quicker. The slushy helps. You pull your sleeves down to fend against the cold of your drink. You peer at Jason out of the corner of your eyes. He’s focused on the road, finger tapping along to the song coming from the radio. The streetlights catch against the hard lines of his face, and it makes him look good, in a way you haven’t noticed before.
Your unrelenting staring doesn’t go unnoticed, and he gives you a funny look. “Everything alright there?”
“Yeah. Just people watching.”
“Person watching.”
He pulls into the house, but you don’t get out of the car yet. Your drinks are finished and abandoned in the console of the car, and you sigh, leaning back against the car seat.
“Do you think your family believes it?” You ask quietly.
Jason is chewing on his straw, the white end of it stained red. “I think they do. We make a pretty good couple.”
He’s joking, you think. But his voice sounds so fond that you have to look away, unable to keep eye contact with those deep brown eyes.
“Your family is nice. I like your brothers.” You smile slightly. “They’re funny.”
“They’re annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “Invasive. I wouldn't be surprised if they’ve hired a private investigator to look into everything about us.”
“And what would they find?”
Jason makes a face, pretty features scrunching. “That ugly work picture the boss posted of us on Facebook.”
“Oh my god.” You burst out laughing. “I forgot about that!”
“You know, we were the only interns from that day who actually got hired.” Jason grins. “Says a lot about us, doesn’t it?”
“We were always the best. That’s why we’re always working together.”
You eventually, and reluctantly, both get out. You reach into the car to grab the bags, and when you turn around Jason is standing right in front of you. You jump a little, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest.
“Are you alright, Jason?”
He doesn’t say anything. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. And slowly, giving you enough time to bolt if you need to, he cups your face in his hands. And he reaches down, pressing his lips to yours in what might be the most tender kiss you’ve ever felt in your entire life.
The bags drop out your hand, forgotten, and your hands circle his neck, reaching up to deepen the kiss. His lips move against yours slowly, desperately, his hands sliding down to curl in your clothes and drag you closer. He lets go of you reluctantly, and you take in a shaky breath. It takes a moment for either of you to speak, like you both need a second to make sure what just happened actually did.
“We just broke your very first rule. There’s no one around but us.” Jason murmurs, fingers brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.
“We can amend the rules.” You say.
The kisses quickly develop from tender to fast and restless. He pulls you flush against him, and he bites at your lip, his tongue curling around your own. You feel heat curl in your stomach, and when he presses a knee between your thigh, you have to stop for a moment.
“Where- Where are we going to go?”
Jason grins, his lips red and his hair mussed from your hands. “You that eager?”
“You’re currently trying to pull my pants down, I think we’re both eager.” You narrow your eyes at him.
Jason looks back at the house but quickly shakes his head. “It’ll make too much noise to go back in now. And we’ll have to be quiet, Dick’s room is right next to mine.”
“Great.” You sigh. “You finally kiss me and we’ve got nowhere else to take it anywhere.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Your car is perfectly fine.” He says quickly.
“My car? You want to have sex in my car like we’re two horny teenagers?” You drawl.
Jason smirks into your skin. He kisses against your neck, teeth nipping at the soft skin. “You don’t?”
You do, unfortunately. Which is why in the next five minutes you’re both sprawled in your backseat. It’s a tight squeeze, but you’re not really worried about that.
Not only have you been having a bit of a dry spell recently, but there’s been one or two nights where you’ve woken up before Jason. And when you wake up before him, you get a beautiful eyeful of his bare chest, because he of course insists on sleeping shirtless. Which may or may not make you feel a little racy, a feeling you have nowhere to relieve.
You’re doing much more than eyeing him now. Your hands smooth over his soft skin and hard muscle as he kisses you frantically, moving down from your face, to your jaw. You aren’t quite sure when, but both of you are naked from the waist up, and Jason wastes no time, sucking red marks into your skin, lapping over them, and you feel your stomach flip as his knee presses into your core.
“Fuck, look at you.” He breathes. “It was fucking torture being so close to you all this time and not being able to do anything.”
He pinches your nipples between rough fingers and you let out a shaky moan, back arching, and it earns you a wet tongue along the crease beneath your breast. Your thighs squeeze together and you whine. Your card a hand through his hair, tugging his head up. His cheeks are flushed, hair already plastered to his forehead which is slick with sweat. He keeps tugging at your nipples and you’re practically panting.
“Come on, Jason.” You whine. “Stop teasing.”
“But it makes you beg so pretty.”
You're distracted by his teeth making another mark against your neck, that the presence of his hand on the inside of your thigh doesn't register until you feel his fingers grab your trousers, already inching them down.
“Can I-“
“Yes.”
It takes some complex manoeuvring but you manage to get your trousers off. He throws them beside him, returning to his position between your legs. He splays his big hand over your knee, trailing his fingertips lightly on the inside of it and up your thigh, until they brush over the now wet lace of your underwear. It’s black and lacy, one of your more exciting undergarments, and Jason is clearly pleased. His eyes stare at the way they cling to your cunt and he groan lowly in his chest, racking a nail down the front of them.
“You wear these for me?” He whispers into your skin, and you can only sigh in response.
Two thick fingers trail from the bottom of your slit to your clit, and he rubs you over the thin material. “These expensive?”
“No.” You shake your head and he grins.
He hooks two fingers against the waistband and easily rips them, and you watch the fabric fall onto the floor of the car, and you might cum right then from the action. Jason grabs your leg and hooks it over his broad shoulder. He leans down, breath ghosting over the soft skin of your thighs and dangerously close to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin and his thumb ghosts over your clit. It’s so light, and it’s barely there, but your hips still jerk up.
Jason huffs a small laugh. “So sensitive.” He breathes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
He makes good on his promise almost instantly. His thumb dips into you, rubbing your slick up and over your clit, his breath cool against your wet skin. Brown eyes stare into your own as he repeats the action with his mouth. Your hips buck up immediately at the contact and he tuts, using an arm to hold down your hips as his tongue flattens against your folds.
“Oh, fuck.” You suck in a breath, hand gripping onto his hair to try and steady yourself.
Your head thumps against the glass window as Jason laps against you hungrily, his eyes fixed on your face every time you look down at him. He hums, satisfied as the way you squirm beneath him. The sound coming from you is so wet and obscene your face feels hot, and you worry that someone outside can hear the two of you going at it.
It takes embarrassingly little for you to feel the knot in your stomach coiling and twisting, and he notices the way you moans get breathier and more incoherent the closer you get. So he drags over your clit in heavy laps, breath burning against your skin, and all it takes is for him to latch his mouth around your clit and suck, and the knot pulls loose. Your body throbs as you cum, and he works you through it until you're pushing him off you, breath catching in your throat.
His face is flushed and you watch as he licks his fingers obscenely. You wrinkle your nose at the sight. “Gross.”
“You just taste so good.”
You sit up, your back clicking as you straighten. And then, you push him back onto the car seat, so your positions are switched. He gives you a confused look.
“What are you doing?” He says.
You undo the drawstrings of his joggers. “I’m returning the favour.”
Jason grabs both your hands in one of his own. You give him a frown and he tilts his head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. I want to.”
You try and tug your hands out of his grip but he doesn’t relent. “Jason-“
He sits up properly in the car seat, dragging you to straddle his lap. It’s a little surreal how easy it is for him to pick you up, barely flinching as he sets you down in his lap slowly. He grabs your joggers and places them in your hands.
“It’s cold, and you were laying down funny, your back probably hurts. It’s late. We can just go to bed.” He insists.
“My back feels great.”
The corner of Jason’s lip quirks up. “Does it now?”
“It feels perfect.”
Jason’s fingers are warm as they lift up your jaw to slot his lips against yours. It’s slower, just like the first time, tender and soft, taking his time to lick into your mouth. Your arms drape across his shoulders, your fingers curling against the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his smile against your face and you sigh happily.
The kiss ends because unfortunately you have to breathe. His forehead knocks against yours as the two of you part.
“Look, we did this strangely. And too fast.” He laughs slightly. “And I want to do it properly.”
Your stomach flutters and you bite back a smile. “Really?”
“Really.”
You hum, drumming your fingers against his bare chest. “Im starting to think this whole fake dating thing was just a ruse to get into my pants.”
Jason shrugs. “If it was, it worked.”
You roll your eyes. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know. I probably would've said yes.”
Jason narrows his eyes at you. “Only probably?”
“Only probably.”
beach bunny is alive and well… life has been so busy. I’m currently working two jobs, one of which is at a bakery so my days are starting at SIX AM!! But I love it!!
And I love Jason Todd… I accidentally deleted the ask but!! We officially have two fics left in this event that’s been going on for like a year LAMAOOAAO
As always leave comments !! I love to hear from u guys!!
Peter is struggling to get accustomed to all the new dna coursing through his body. You help him get used to it
warning: nsfw!
You can tell something is wrong with Peter the moment he makes his way into the apartment.
The way he comes in is to tell enough that something’s up. Usually he knocks at the window, shoots you a text while he’s swinging around the city that he’ll be home soon. Peter says it’s because he doesn’t want to freak you out by just coming in unannounced, and while you don’t really care either way, you think it’s cute that he worries about it. That being said, Peter has never landed on your balcony in a frenzy, cursing under his breath as he knocks one of your plant pots off the edge and to the street down below.
The commotion makes you stand quickly, distracted from the movie you had playing on the screen. Your legs stick to the couch, the house sticky with summer heat even with all the windows open. It's late enough in the evening that a breeze blows in, but you still find yourself in only a pair of shorts and one of Peter’s nerdy Star Wars shirts that hangs down past your thighs. Your face fills with confusion as he clambers through the window, movements clumsy. He knocks over your mug as he jumps down to the floor, but quickly shoots a web to catch it before it shatters.
“The doors unlocked, you know.” You say, and he doesn’t reply.
He seems restless. He picks up the mug and paces around, drumming his fingers on the ceramic as he mumbles something under his breath. The nervous energy isn’t totally abnormal, though. Peter could just be hopped up on adrenaline from a fight, or excited from just cracking a case or finding a lead in another.
It’s strange that your new normal is being Spider-Man’s roommate. When Peter had messaged you all those months ago, having found your number on the flyer you’d posted around the city, you were skeptical. He was a man, firstly, and you ideally wanted a woman to stay with. Safety, and all that. But you were desperate, and too broke to afford your own place, so you agreed to meet with him. And he’d been sweet. A little awkward and a lot nerdy, but he seemed like a nice guy. And he was cute. Those soft brown eyes and those curls that bounced animatedly as he spoke, it definitely helped his case. And he didn’t give you any worrying vibes that he might be a serial killer, which was good. The only request he had was to use the small spare room you listed on the flyer for himself. For work, he said. Which sounded a bit suspicious, but you agreed nonetheless. You had no use for it anyway.
You wonder what his plan was. It was inevitable you’d find out once you were living together, if not from his inability to sneak into the house without making enough noise to wake you from your sleep, or how horrible he was at lying about the cuts and bruises he randomly would show up with, the secrecy of what’s in the spare room he never let you go in. Or, the time he just left his Spiderman suit in the laundry basket.
An argument and a reluctant confession later, and now you were in the know. An impromptu doctor when Peter refused to go hospital, a researcher whenever he needed help figuring stuff out. Of course, as an English student you weren’t much help with all the technological aspects of his heroism, but you did what you could.
You don’t mind doing anything for Peter. Which is something you don’t like to dwell on too much.
He still hasn’t said anything. You watch as he takes off his mask, flinging it on the kitchen counter and placing your mug down gently after it. And when you get a glimpse of his face, he looks… dishevelled. His curls are loose and a mess around his face, his forehead slick with sweat and he wipes his face with the collar of his suit. His cheeks are flushed with a soft pink that stretches over his cheekbones. And finally, he looks at you, those big brown eyes softening when they catch sight of you standing before him.
He says your name, relieved and something else. “You’re home.”
“I am. Are you okay, Peter? You look-”
“Like crap. I know.” He laughs, but it sounds more panicked than anything else.
Peter makes his way to the spare room,which you’ve now dubbed his study, without a word, and you follow behind him quickly. He used to always keep it locked, but now he never bothers. He opens the door roughly and the place is a bit of a mess. Papers all over the floor, the machines on the side busy building something. You try to tell him to keep it clean but he never does.
He sits in his fraying desk chair, biting at his lip as he regards the monitors in front of him. You come up behind him, still glancing at him worriedly.
“Peter-“
“Just, give me a minute. I need to see something.” He says quickly, his leg bouncing up and down under the desk restlessly.
You sigh, rolling your eyes a little. You try to decipher the words that flash across the screen but you give up quickly. The things you can read doesn’t ease your worry. His heart rate is too high, his temperature nearing dangerous levels. It’s hard to tell what is normal, seeing as he is half spider, but you can assume it’s nothing good.
You hop up to sit on the empty desk beside him and watch him work. His curls stick to the back of his neck, and you have a perfect view of his muscular back, which you try to divert your eyes away from.
Edith blinks to life as he types something on his keyboard.
“Arachnid DNA is at eighty percent, which is the normal level it has been for the past six months.” Her smooth voice calls out to the room.
“I know,” Peter runs a hand through his hair, his voice a little irritated. “I know it’s normal. If it is, then why do I feel so-“
The words die on his lips and he shoots you a strange look. He doesn't finish his sentence and Edith seems to sense his inability to voice his concerns, because she speaks up for him.
“Your new heightened senses also affect your physiological and psychological responses. This is why your sexual-“
Peter makes a strange noise and practically slams his hand against the keyboard to shut her up. Your bite back your laugh as he glares at you, even though his face is burning with embarrassment.
“Shut up.”
“I said nothing.” You say. “Is-“
“We are not talking about this.” Peter stands abruptly. “It’s okay, just go to bed.”
Peter pauses, like he wants to say something else. Then he decides not to and shakes his head. His hand is warm as it circles around your wrist and he practically drags you out the room. “I don’t need help. Especially not from you.”
He shuts the door to his office behind him once you’re finally outside. You’re left glaring at his back as he walks into the kitchen to grab a drink. He opens the fridge and surveys the contents, seemingly unaware of your irritation.
“Especially not from me? What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap.
He grabs a can of coke, and downs it in about ten seconds. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Then why’d you say it?”
“You know me and silence.” He gives you a lopsided grin but it only makes you frown. He’s breathing heavily like he’s just run a race and the redness in his face is only getting worse.
“Peter. What is going on?”
“I’m fine! I’m fine, I’m just hot. Are you hot? It’s really hot in here.” His suit sticks to his skin and he wipes at the sweat that collects at his brow.
“It’s really not.” You mumble, worry creasing your face.
Peter scoffs, pointing at your bare legs. “Why are you wearing those shorts then, huh? They’re very short, you know.” He rambles.
You raise an eyebrow. “Mhm. That’s why they’re called shorts.”
“Yeah. Is that my top, too?” He finally notices, and you nod. You try not to squirm as his eyes rake over your body shamelessly.
“All of mine are in the wash.”
“Right. Of course.” He looks away reluctantly, like it hurts to. He braces one hand on the counter, taking a deep breath in, eyes screwing shut. “You look good. The shirt, I mean.”
You walk towards him slowly. “Peter, come on. Talk to me.”
You reach out a hand to touch him but he flinches, like your fingers on his arm shock him. He groans, low and heavy in his chest, turning away from you, and your worry is quickly turning into panic.
“Peter, if you don’t tell me what is going on I’m calling an ambulance. Or Frank.”
His head shoots. “Do not call Frank.”
“Then talk to me!” You splutter. “You’re acting so weird, and you're not explaining anything, and it’s freaking me out!”
Peter winces as your voice cracks a little. “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna worry you.”
“Well you are.”
“I’m- Fuck, I don’t know how to explain it.” He sighs.
It takes a second for him to collect himself. Peter straightens up and faces you. “Okay, so. You know how a few months ago, I got all this new weird arachnid DNA?”
You nod. “I do remember.”
“Well, the new DNA comes with a lot of new side effects. Obviously, the heightened sense, the up in strength and speed. That’s all good and well, but. It also heightens other things. Things like.” His voice trails off.
You cross your arms. “Things like what?”
He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head. “You know. Things like my anger. Happiness. And my. My arousal.”
He says the last word fast, like it’ll be any less awkward if he says it quicker. And suddenly, the restless energy, the warmth, the weird reaction to your touch. It all starts to make sense.
“Oh.” You say quietly.
“Yeah. Oh.” He laughs nervously. “And I was just, you know, swinging around town and I started to feel all. You know, hot and bothered.”
He groans, placing his arms on the table. “I thought it’d get better when I got home, but it’s worse. It feels like my skin is on fucking fire.” He hisses.
Your eyebrows crease and you step forward, hands hovering in the air. You’re scared to touch him in case he freaks out like before. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. Nothing, you- you need to leave, probably.” He takes a frantic step back, almost slipping.
“Me? Why?” You protest. “You can use me when you need a patch up but now I’m useless?”
“Because if this gets any worse than it already is I have no idea what the hell I’m gonna do. And I’d rather cut both my hands off than hurt you.”
You soften, hands falling to your sides uselessly. His face is so pained, torn between coming closer to you and leaving the apartment all together.
You think you being here is making it worse. Maybe you shouldn’t read into the fact your presence is making him feel that much more aroused. Maybe it is just the weird influx of hormones that’s making him feel the way he is, but instead, you take the information presented in front of you exactly how you want to. The sight of him this wrecked in front of you fills you with a surge of confidence, and a smile graces your lips.
“I can help you, Peter.”
His eyes are almost black from how big his pupils are, and his throat bobs as he swallows roughly. His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks. “What?”
“I can help relieve some tension. If you want me to.” You say softly.
“Y/N.” He shakes his head. “I’m not- I don’t know how well I'm gonna be able to control myself.”
“It’s okay. You can be rough if you need to.”
It takes him a second for the words to sink in. He doesn’t move long enough that you think he’s going to say no. But in one smooth motion, Peter shoots out a web that wraps around your waist, and drags you over to him. You make a surprised squeak, but it’s quickly swallowed up as his hands curl in your shirt and pulls you into a kiss.
His hand curves around the back of your neck to bring you closer, his other hand on your waist gripping you so tightly you think you might have bruises tomorrow. Peter kisses you like he’s trying to swallow you whole, like he could tip forward and fall right into you. Your hands curl into his hair, and when you tug he groans deeply. He lets go for breath for only a second before he’s back, tongue dancing against your own, teeth grazing your bottom lip.
Peter’s hand slips beneath your shirt, and his touch burns a trail up your skin. He reaches behind your back to fumble with your bra but he isn’t very successful in taking it off. He makes a noise of annoyance against your lips. Peter straightens, and his lips are red and slick with spit, and you want to kiss him all over again.
“Fuck. Can you take it off? Please?”
You snort a laugh and he groans. “I’m being nice here. I could rip it clean in half, but I’m being nice.”
“Okay, okay.”
He helps you take off your shirt and tosses it on the floor behind him. You easily unclip your bra and he makes a sound so wrecked in the back of his throat at the sight of you in only your shorts, you think you might finish right there and then.
“Fuck, I can’t wait.”
In one swift motion he picks you up, and you squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist as he all but throws the two of you into his room and on his bed. He almost falls on his face in his haste to lose the suit until he’s just in his boxers, and you only have a few short lived moments to admire his chiselled stomach, the hard curves of his biceps, before he’s all over you again.
You open your mouth as he kisses you again, lips forming the syllables of his name that you quickly swallow as his tongue delves into your mouth. You let your hands trail over his abs, and he shivers as you run your nails over his shoulders, his chest, any part of him you can get. His hand fondles your chest, pinching your nipple between two fingers as you keen, back arching off the bed.
Peter grins, hair falling over his face as he hovers over you. “God, just look at you, squirming underneath me.”
“Put that mouth to better use, Parker.”
And he does. He cups your breasts in his hands, pushing them together and licking a pert nipple into his mouth. He sucks, flicks his tongue over it until your legs latch around his waist and you whimper. You barely have time to react before he sits up, spreading your legs roughly.
You feel a rush of shyness at how shamelessly he’s looking between your legs, and you shut your legs.
Peter makes an angry face, tutting loudly. “None of that.”
Peter grabs both your hands in one of his, bringing them up to the headboard. He shoots a web that sticks your hands above your head before you can even protest. Your mouth drops open in shock.
“What- Peter!” He presses quick kisses on your face, mumbling an apology into your skin.
“M’sorry, I can’t have you getting in my way, can I? Just let me take care of you, okay? I’ll do all the work.” He breathes out.
It’s hard to argue with that. Peter spreads your legs open once more, and this time he has no further interruptions. The flush travels down his chest, down to halfway to his stomach. He discards you off your underwear and strokes his finger along your slit. But he wastes no time teasing. No, in one swift motion he’s pushing his finger in down to the knuckle and you whimper, turning to hide your face into the pillows beneath you.
“Easy, girl. I got you.” He whispers against the shell of your ear.
He adds another finger, and the stretch burns in a good way. He draws his fingers up, searching for that spot against the high point inside your walls. And when he finds you can’t help the moans that slip past your lips as he presses, the white-hot pleasure curling in your stomach.
“Fuck, Peter.” You groan.
Before you can lose yourself in the feeling, his hand withdraws. You whine at the loss and he chuckles, kissing your forehead.
“I’ll fuck you good, I promise.” He murmurs, taking off his boxers. “Just wait.”
His tip is red and leaking pre-cum, and he fists at his cock slowly. His eyebrows crease with the feeling, and the look on his face is obscene. You reach forward to and run your finger against the side right up to the head, and his hips jut up.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He breathes out. “Do you have- A condom? Or something?”
“I’m on birth control, you can-“
The words hardly leave your lips before he moves. He slips his hand under your knee and lifts you up slightly. He sets the tip of himself inside you and slowly pushes himself in until his hips are flush with yours. Your hands itch against the headboard, fists clenching.
Peter makes a guttural noise, head dropping down and his breath stutters in his chest. “Oh, finally, fucking finally.”
He gives you just a second to adjust, his face strained. “Tell me if you need to stop. Okay?”
“Okay. But, my hands, Peter.” You whine, and despite your minutes of struggling he easily tugs them loose.
It’s the only reprieve you get before he starts to move. He sets a fast and punishing rhythm, his words a litany of moans and incoherent phrases. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, the wetness that drips from between your thighs. Every rock of his hips dragged so deliciously against your inner walls it feels like torture.
“That’s my girl. Feels so good, you feel so good.” He stutters, hands hauling you up by your hips so he can thrust even deeper, his tip kissing your cervix.
Your arms come up to curl around his neck, you nails raking down his back, and he doesn’t even flinch at the sensation. No, Peter’s transfixed by the view of his cock sliding into your cunt. He sucks his thumb before he reaches down, rubbing at your clit. Your hips jolt up, and your eyes screw shut. You’re dangerously close, his thrusts getting more frantic, more desperate.
“Sweet girl. You wanna come? You wanna come all over my cock?” He huffs and you nod.
And it’s then you look up, and you see it. His eyes, pools of black as he holds you up with one hand easily, the other rubbing furious circles all over your clit. You wish you could form the words to question it, but he seems to sense your impending orgasm, because he begins fucking into you with earnest. Sharp, punching thrusts of his hips that has his name falling from your lips as the damn inside you bursts.
Your legs twitch as you cum, and your walls squeeze around him. He whines, his eyes screwed shut as he becomes messy with it, hands digging finger-shaped bruises into your thighs as he finishes with a gasp, his breath stuttering.
“So good for me, baby. Oh, fuck.” He practically whimpers, forehead dropping against your own.
It takes you a second to compose yourself. Your breathing finally returns to normal, and you sit up slightly, hand cupping his face to lift his head up so you can observe him.
“Your eyes, they were- they were black.” You breathe out, voice slightly hoarse. “Why?”
“It’s the new DNA. Makes me look kinda freaky, doesn’t it?”
“Mhm.”
You drop down against the pillows, head turning into his sheets. They smell like him, and you smile slightly, body achingly pleasant after your orgasm.
It’s then you realise that Peter is still inside you. And he’s still hard. He seems to realise it, too, because he’s kissing your neck again, sucking red marks into your soft skin. He licks against your pulse, and you groan.
“How are you still hard?”
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “I can go, it’s okay. You’ve been so good to me.”
He tries to move but you drag him back down. “No, it’s okay. I just need a moment.” You mumble.
Peter tries to hide his excitement, but he fails. You’re sure you look a mess, but you’re certain he’s much worse. His hair is tussled from where you’d been raking your hands through it, and it falls around his face in messy curls. His eyes have only just returned to normal, but his pupils are still blown, still looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.
“What?” He says. “Why you starin’ at me like that?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
He hums happily. “Good. Because you did so good for me, sweetheart. Do you think you can do it again?”
I can’t believe this is my first marvel fic.. guys u don’t even knowww me and marvel go WAYYY back.. like what do y guys know about Bucky barnes omg
but this was so fun to write! as u can tell from my blog this is my all time favourite superhero so.. ofc the new movie (which I’ve watched twice) had me creaming my pants..
I hope u all enjoy!! Plz leave comments I love to hear what u guys think!
It’s hard to practise your skating when the hockey team captain won’t leave you alone
November 12th
6:07 pm
You: can u tell your teammates to not leave their shit all over the locker room
You: they arent the only ones using it.
Touya: Who is this?
You: dont pmo i know u have my number saved
Touya: Oh yeah
Touya: Ur the whiny ice skater
You: FIGURE skater
Touya: Same thing
You: just move ur stuff!
Touya: Alright alright
Touya: No need to get your panties in a twist
You: stfu
November 15th
5:27 pm
You: *image attachment*
You: again?????
Touya: We aren’t done training yet
You: i have the rink booked for half five??
Touya: Three minutes is a long time
You: yeah im sure you think so
Touya: Feisty today
Touya: U can come shoot some pucks if u want
Touya: Good stress relief
You: no
You: hockey is a waste of ice
Touya: Yh im sure all your dancing around is a better use
Touya: Ur just shit
You: at what?
Touya: Shooting probably
You: i am not
Touya: Dont worry babe we cant all be good at everything
You: alright fine
You: five minutes so i can shut u up and then get rid of ur shirt
Touya: Gonna get rid of my pants too?
You: SHIT*****
November 17th
2:49 pm
Touya: *image attachment*
You: I don’t want a picture of ur skates thanks
You: why are u texting me
Touya: Because u gave me ur number
You: yeah to talk about the rink
You: cause the college is sick of me complaining about you and ur team
Touya: Came here for pregame encouragement
Touya: And instead I get bullied 🙁
You: man up?
Touya: That’s so wrong to say
You: don’t care
You: hope you lose
Touya: It’s okay I’m into women who bully me
You: disgusting
November 19th
5:38 pm
Touya: Are you not cold in that
You: no im hot
Touya: Yeah u are
You: weirdo
You: why are u guys even here
Touya: Nervous with my team watching?
You: im just skating in circles I think I’ll be fine
You: just curious
Touya: Icl i thought we were booked for half past
You: LOL
Touya: Dont laugh at me
You: dont be stupid then
Touya: Hope you slip on the ice
You: im too good for that
Touya: U lowkey are
Touya: Never seen u skate before
You: impressed?
Touya: Yeah dont beg it
You: yk u are
You: enjoy the show x
Touya: You know i will
November 21st
4:54pm
Touya: Wyd
You: filing a restraining order against you
Touya: U want me in cuffs that bad huh
You: ur acc such a freak 😭😭
Touya: Only 4 u
You: and half the girls on campus allegedly
Touya: Woah woah
Touya: Where’d you get that from
You: certain people
Touya: So you’ve been asking about me 😍
You: can’t seem ti get rid of you later
You: figured I might as well find out what ur like
Touya: What’s the consensus
You: not a fan soz
Touya: Gonna kms
You: #gonetoosoon 🕊️
November 23rd
12:01 pm
You: i am so bored
You: entertain me
Touya: Y/N texting first?
Touya: Dreams do come true 😍
You: nightmares more like
Touya: R u in class
You: yes ❌
You: I should be on that rink not learning about this crap
Touya: Tut tut
Touya: Not very plus ultra of u
You: kys?
November 25th
5:00pm
You: touyyaaaaa
Touya: Yes mama
You: no.
You: but do u have training today
Touya: Yh we’re booked before u
You: can u give me a ride plz
You: I’ll pay for gas
Touya: Yeah nw
You: thank u sm sm sm
You: my partner usually gets me but he’s ill
Touya: Be honest u just wanted to see me 😍
You: sure 🩷
Touya: Wait so ur gonna train alone?
You: yes 😒
Touya: I’ll hang back if u want
Touya: Keep you company
You: you’d do that?
Touya: Yeah ofc
Touya: The rink gets kinda spooky when ur on ur own
You: alright thanks
Touya: No prob
You: *shared location*
Touya: I’ll be there in fifteen
November 27th
5:31pm
Touya: *image attachment*
Touya: Well well well
You: oopsie ☺️
Touya: U hypocrite
You: 😒I was tired okay
You: and in pain I fell on my ass
Touya: Ice it and rest
You: okay dad
Touya: Trust me I’ve fallen enough times to know what to do
You: yeah hockey is AGGRESIVE
You: figure skating is beautiful and elegant ⛸️
Touya: Whatever you say gorjus
You: just leave the skates in the locker room I’ll pick them up tomorrow
Touya: Nah I’ll drop them to urs
You: oh u don’t need to do that
Touya: Ik
Touya: I want to
You: oh
Touya: Yeah oh
You: shush
November 29th
4:07pm
Touya: Is that my favorite figure skater
Touya: With UA colours painted on her face
You: yeah maybe
Touya: Can’t believe u came to my game
Touya: Might shed a tear and smudge my eyeliner
You: ur wearing eyeliner??
Touya: Yes it makes my eyes shine
You: are you a social experiment
Touya: Stop flirting with me
Touya: Gonna play better now that your watching
You: you better
You: put all those hours training on my rink to use
Touya: Your rink??
Touya: Oh babe ur crazy
Touya: All that cold getting to ur head
You: try not to hit urs out there
You: I’ve seen how violent this game is
Touya: When she worries about u 😍
You: nah
You: just scared to lose my free rides to the rink
Touya: That all I am huh
You: and you’re not too bad to look at in that hockey kit
Touya: Jersey is all yours when I win
You: when yeah
Touya: Duh
November 29th
5:01pm
Touya: How do you know hawks
You: WHERE TF R U
Touya: Locker room I needed to grab smth
Touya: How do u know him
You: ??? shut ur mouth and come out here so I can congratulate u
You: we used to skate at the same place when we were kids
You: I didn’t realise he played on ur team!!
Touya: He’s a sub
Touya: I didn’t know u knew him until I saw u two humping each other
You: I think most people call it a hug
You: can’t believe u acc won ..
Touya: Told ya I would
You: I think I was promised a jersey??
Touya: Come get it then
December 4th
9:07pm
Touya: Where the hell are you
You: ?? what
Touya: Keigo’s party
Touya: Literally everyone is here
You: im not
Touya: Yeah that’s why I asked dumbass
You: im training
Touya: Right now??
Touya: The rink isn’t even open
You: is for me 😝
You: my coach pulled some strings
Touya: I’m coming
You: what why
Touya: You need a break
Touya: And this party sucks anyway
You: no but I need to perfect this by next week
Touya: Perfect it tomorrow
Touya: You ain’t gonna learn shit if you keep overworking myself
You: yes dad
Touya: Kinky
You: GROSS
Touya: I’ll be there in fifteen
You: guess I’ll see u in fifteen😒
Touya: Attagirl
December 7th
10:39 pm
You: yk I was thinking
Touya: Yes I will go out with you
You: pack it in
You: I think some of my skating drills would help u in ur games
Touya: Really
You: yeah deffo
You: when u were playing there’s so many like openings for u to escape if u knew how
You: not saying ur not good tho cause u were amazing but
You: just food for thought x
Touya: Nah I’ll take any advice I can get from you
Touya: Sigh if only I had a pretty skater to teach me all these techniques Sigh
You: 🙄if I must
Touya: 😛
December 9th
7:09 pm
Touya: U are not human
You: yes im ai 🤖
Touya: My body is fucking killing
Touya: How do you do this every other day
You: cause im the goat?
Touya: Ur a robot
Touya: Name one emotion
You: spite
Touya: That’s my girl 😍
You: this is like Detroit become human
Touya: Like what
You: 🙄ofc u don’t know peak
Touya: Sorry I’ll kms
You: thanks 😊
December 12th
2:45 pm
Touya: *image attachment*
Touya: So were u ever gonna tell me
You: WRF
You: I told my coach not to put those up
Touya: U got this fancy ass competition and I wasn’t even invited…
You: 😣 I didn’t tell anyone
Touya: I’m not anyone
You: IK I just am so nervous
You: and I knew i would be more nervous if u were watching me
Touya: I’ve seen u skate before dummy
You: not properly with my partner and our whole routine
You: you’ve only ever seen my drills or a couple spins 💔
Touya: So what im hearing is u tryna impress me 😍
You: well duh
Touya: Well im coming anyway
Touya: Better get used to the idea now
You: fine fine 😣😣
You: actually do u wanna come watch us practise together
You: like properly
Touya: Ofc
You: alright cool 😝 I’ll lyk when
December 11th
11:09 am
Touya: He’s very touchy
Touya: You two dating or what
You: LOL
You: no that’s just how figure skating is
You: it’s intimate and sensual
Touya: Might as well fuck on the ice and get it over with
You: STFU
You: Jealousy is not a good colour on you
Touya: Lie I look good in everything
You: did u like it
Touya: I liked you
Touya: Ur amazing on the ice but I knew that already
You: 😁thank u
You: better see u there on Friday
Touya: Oh nowww u want me there
You: always wanted u there idiot
Touya: Knew it
December 15th
2:54pm
You: oh im shitting myself
Touya: Probanly do that before u compete
You: not funny
Touya: You’ll do great
You: I can see u in the audience
Touya: Do I look really sexy
You: nah sorry
Touya: Bully
Touya: So what do I get when u win
You: if
You: and how about a date x
Touya: Oh don’t get me worked up for nothing
You: I’m being serious
You: and if I lose u take me out onna date to cheer me up x
Touya: Done
Touya: This is gonna be the best date you’ve ever been on
You: sure..
Touya: I’m gonna rock ur shit
Touya: Really romantically
You: LOL
You: okay I gtg
Touya: Good luck babe
You: thank u Touya 🩷
Touya has been on my MINDDD recently I can’t stop thinking about him.. my man……. Also hockey player x figure skater is such a cute AU so had to write a little text post 😝
Also going to watch zootopia 3 today I am very excited to see my bf nick Wilde on the screen. Also. Jason Bateman.
˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔ DO I WANNA KNOW? ~ Bucky Barnes x reader˙⋆✮⋆˚࿔
texts between you, the Avenger newest recruit, and the Winter Soldier
enemies to lovers, slow burn, multi-part
note: y/n was a black widow in the red room before she joined the team!
May 29th
8:06 am
You: where are you??
WS: At the mission.
You: ????
You: the mission we are supposed to be on together??
WS: I don’t need you to come.
You: that’s not really ur decision tho is it
You: tony paired us up so we have to work together whether you like it or not
WS: Again, I don’t need you for this.
You: is that really up to u to decide??
WS: Well I’ve already left, so there’s no point arguing now.
You: omfg
WS: I don’t know what that means.
You: it means ur annoying
WS: I can live with that.
May 29th
8:10 am
You: IM GOING TO KILL HIM
Nat: good morning to you too
You: Nat he is the WORST AVENGER EVER
You: WHO EVEN LET HIM JOIN
Nat: Tony probably
Nat: I’m assuming ur talking about Bucky?
You: don’t say that stupid name to me
You: he totally ditched me we were supposed to do a mission together
Nat: YH I saw him on the jet this morning
You: WHAT A DICK
Nat: calm down babe
You: no he thinks I’m Ike incompetent and he doesn’t even know me
Nat: just breatheeeee
Nat: and tell Tony he’ll sort him out
You: ykw ur right
May 29th
7:24 pm
WS: You told Tony?
You: welcome home x
WS: I just got ambushed the second the jet landed.
You: awww poor winter soldier
WS: Didn’t take you for a rat.
You: UR the one who left without telling me
You: I’d call that pretty rat like behaviour
WS: Well, thanks to you, Tony says that for the next month we have to do every mission he assigns to either of us together.
You: WJAT????
You: WHY
WS: Why are you yelling?
WS: He said it’s for team-building purposes.
You: fuck sake
WS: Just don’t get in the way.
You: shut up!!!!!!!!
April 1st
6:46am
WS: This mission is a week long.
You: wowww does the super serum make u super smart too??
WS: What the hell do you need all these bags for?
You: its two bags..
WS: It’s too many bags.
You: the fuck
WS: All you need is clothes, what else could you possibly be taking?
You: none of your business
WS: Whatever.
You: whatever is right
April 3rd
6:45pm
You: can u be careful with those daggers of urs
You: you almost took my eyes out like ten times
WS: Just dodge them?
You: just kys?
WS: 👍
April 4th
12:54 pm
WS: What does “wsg” mean?
You: what
WS: Sam keeps saying it to me and I don’t know what it means
You: just google it
WS: What’s google?
You: …
You: are u fucking with me
WS: No?
You: you are actually hopeless
April 4th
7:24am
WS: Did you get the files I sent you?
You: no
WS: Fuck me.
You: no thanks I’m not interested x
WS: Shut up.
You: rude
You: can u send them or what
WS: I can’t.
WS: How do I work Gmail? I don’t know how to add the files.
You: yk u don’t need to type in perfect grammar over text
You: also who doesn’t know how to work gmail??
You: where the hell have you been
WS: On ice.
You: oh
You: right
You: okay to make up for that tasteless comment I will teach you how to use Gmail and then I’m going to hopefully never speak to you again outside our missions
You: sounds good?
WS: Sounds perfect to me.
April 4th
12:40pm
You: hey so just because I taught u how to email doesn’t mean u need to email me every five seconds
You: I don’t need to know what you had for dinner
WS: I’m practising.
You: practise on someone else?
WS: No
You: why??
WS: It’s funny how annoyed you’re getting.
You: stfu
WS: I don’t know what that means.
April 5th
8:34am
You: do u think tony is the group leader of the avengers
WS: What?
WS: Why are you messaging me?
You: because this meeting is soooo boring and bruce is not even looking at us
WS: Okay, what do you want me to do about your boredom?
You: and here i am trying to ease the tension between us
WS: Bruce just told me off for looking at my phone.
You: ha ha ha
April 8th
12:07
WS: Are you nearly here?
You: yh I’m sorry one second
WS: What’s wrong?
You: I can’t find my gum 😞
You: my ears pop so bad on the plane I need it
WS: It’s fine.
You: ? no it’s not fine I need it
WS: No, I mean I have some in my bag.
You: you do?
WS: I saw you ran out last time we were on the jet so I grabbed some more.
You: oh
You: thank you
WS: No worries.
WS: Just get here.
You: so bossy.. on my way
WS: 👍
April 8th
12:11 am
WS: You were right.
WS: I think she liked the gum.
Steve: I’m always right
Steve: This is step one towards friendship
WS: Let’s not get ahead of ourself here.
WS: I think she’s gone from hatred to dislike, though. Which is good.
Steve: It’s very good
Steve: Make sure to invite me to the wedding
WS: Fuck off.
Okay so this is kindaaa short but that’s because I plan on making it a series!! So there’ll be a few parts
very excited for this… Peter Parker black widow and Bucky are THE BEST marvel characters I will hear no arguments to that
I can’t believe I’ve had this account for two years and written no marvel fics.. will be changing that now
based off this texpost and @laffythefaffy request!
Bakugo didn’t believe in relationships.
Romantic ones, at least. Platonic ones he’d been convinced of, after the relentless nature of his classmates, but Bakugo could safely say that, at the age of twenty five, he had never been in love.
It didn’t depress him. He’d had experiences. He’d kissed and he’d fucked, and it felt good, and still he’d never had a girlfriend. His childhood was a mess of war and pain and death, and so there was no time for it then. And now, his days are filled with patrolling and missions and he doesn’t really have time for it either. Where is he supposed to meet one, anyway? The only time he goes out is when he gets dragged to the annoying 1-A meet-ups at the bar in Nagoya that are always far too loud for his liking. And Bakugo would rather keel over and die before he tried to flirt with someone in front of Denki.
But Bakugo was happy with his life. Content. Enough as a busy hero could be.
And then he met you.
He’d been patrolling that day. Quite possibly the worst part of his job. It’s more for publicity than safety, he thinks. Civilians like seeing a hero walking around and cruising the streets. It makes them feel protected and it makes his agency look good for looking out for the public. All it means for him though, is way too many people asking for interviews and pictures and the waste of a day at work.
And then he’d heard it. A loud crash and screams that echoed down the street and the sudden rush of civilians from the bookshop a small ways away. They scattered like ants and Bakugo pushed through them, breaking into a run.
Something, or someone, had crashed through the front door, glass scattered in sharp jagged pieces on the floor. That seemed to have been the extent of the damage. He ignores the clammer of a crowd behind him and steps inside, eyes scanning the shop for the source of the destruction. And he assumed the poorly dressed man standing in the middle of the place was the cause. It looked like a home-made costume that reminded him of Deku’s first ever costume, and the man wearing it looked just as weak as he had.
Bakugo sighed internally. They get a couple of guys like this every so often. People with too big dreams of fame or villainy or both, and a flashy enough quirk that they think some damage will get their name plastered on the six o’clock news. More often than not, it ends with Bakugo nearly blowing up their face and the next few years in prison.
Balugo kicked a fallen book. The man caught sight of him and stood straighter. It might have been a show of strength but Bakugo saw his hands quiver as he pointed them at the crying civilian next to him.
“Not a step closer, Dynamight! Or I’ll blow her brains out!” He yelled.
Considering the damage to the door and the way he’s wielding his hands like the weapon, Bakugo assumed this was a quirk attack. His eyes darted around to assess the situation. Other than fallen bookcases and the dust of a broken wall, there wasn’t too much damage. The place was pretty small anyway. There were four people in the room, including the villain, and judging by the fact they’re all on their feet he didn’t think they were injured. Even the one being held hostage looks fine, other than the flurry of tears falling down her face. She looks young, and Bakugo scowls.
“Let her go and I won’t have to blow your fucking hands off.” Bakugo demanded.
“No! I-I make the rules here!” It was sad, really. The kid was practically shivering. Definitely not villain material.
Before Bakugo could do anything, like explode the sad fucker into the nearest juvenile detention centre, there’s a loud thud, and the man crumpled to the floor. Confusion flitted across his face and then he looked up and saw you.
You, hobbling forward on one ankle, a hard-back dictionary in your hand, breathing heavily. Your clothes were wrinkled and your face flushed, chest heaving as you looked down at the man in front of you. The dictionary dropped to the floor and you cursed.
“Fuck. Did I kill him?” You mumbled, nudging his shoulder with your good foot.
You hadn’t killed him. Just knocked him out, he found after pressing his fingers against the man’s neck. He clicked on a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs and handed him off to the police, who had just arrived. He watched as they started talking to the other victims and he turned his attention to you.
“That was real fucking stupid. Don’t ever get involved in a fight like that.” He snapped.
You pouted. “I got him, though.”
Red eyes flicked down. You were looking worriedly at your ankle, hands holding you up on the counter beside you. He studied your face, the small crease of worry between your eyebrows. You suddenly glanced up at him. You gave him a small smile and he shook his head.
He crouched down, beckoning you with his hand. “Idiot. Show me your ankle.”
You held your foot up gingerly, and Bakugo pressed his fingers against your bone, touching lighter when you wince slightly. Behind him, he could hear the commotion of paramedics checking on the other civilians, the blare of sirens from outside. Your fingers drum against the counter you're leaning on.
“Don’t think it’s broken. Just fractured.” He said, standing up again.
He saw you squeezing your wrist, stretching it out and wiggling your fingers. He nodded, gesturing at his own wrist.
“You fuck that up too?”
You laughed slightly. “No, I- I think I just hurt it when I smacked him with that book.” You shook it once. “I’ll be fine, though.”
“You got him good though. Nice swing.”
The little comment surprised even him, and you laughed, out of shock more than anything else, and he allowed a small smile to ghost his own face.
“Thanks. Your agency need any extra hands?” You teased and he rolled his eyes.
“Not one as dumb as you.” He drawled and you just grinned back.
He watched you glance behind you at the paramedics and back down at your ankle. You winced, pushing yourself up so that you could start the walk towards them, but he waved you off.
“Hold on.”
In one swift motion, his hands came up under your thighs, the other sweeping behind your back, and he lifted you up with ease. You made a sound of surprise in the back of your throat. Your hands wrapped around his neck and your body was warm against his.
“I’ll get you to the paramedics. They’ll fix you up.” He said.
And you were close enough that when you replied, a soft okay, he felt it rumble against his chest, could feel your fingers curl against the small of his neck. He felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach at your proximity. Not one he’s used to when he’s saving civilians.
He held you tighter as he bent over the door frame, making the disappointingly short journey to the bank of the closest open ambulance. A smiling woman came over and listened as Bakugo relayed your injuries, and you watched in keen interest as she used some healing quirk over your ankle.
Bakugo could’ve left. He should’ve left. He isn’t the type to sit and check up on the victims, he’d usually be back carrying on patrol, but. Bakugo lingered. He watched as the paramedic told you to take it easy for the next few days, and you beamed that smile at her he itched for you to aim at him. She wrapped a bandage around your ankle and you thanked her. And once the paramedic left, and your attention was back on him, he could appreciate you a little more. Outside, in the bright summer sun, your eyes shone, your skin glistening in the light as you rolled your ankle around.
“God. It must be nice to have a quirk that can just fix someone up like that.” You hummed.
“You don’t got a quirk?” He asked and you shook your head.
“Nah. Don’t really need one when you’re running a book store, though.”
Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest. He hoped you saw the bulge of his biceps that he definitely wasn’t trying to show off. “Right. You be more fucking careful next time.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Me? You’re the one who needed rescuing, if my dictionary wielding is anything to go by.”
He barked a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ll forgive you once you help me fix the store.”
It was Bakugo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And who said I’m fucking doing that?”
You didn’t bristle at his tone. Just flash those pearly whites up at him. “I’m going to have to send my workers home after that fiasco, so. I’d like an extra pair of hands. And I’d hope one of Japan's top Pro heroes would help a book owner in need.”
He rolled his eyes. “Suck up.”
But he did come back. After his shift was over, he stalked his way over the streets he’d just been patrolling and he helped you organise your shelves once more. It was unprofessional. There was probably some code or some rule in the Hero conduct that stated you definitely were not allowed to meet up with civilians you just saved and flirt with them as you alphabetised stacks of books and lifted heavy shelves.
But he did it anyway.
And then he started appearing at the shop more. It was on his patrol route, after all. And he was looking to start reading more as well. And the door to your office is rickety, and he knew how to fix that, so he had to come by again.
And then he asked you to dinner one day and everything sort of went up from there.
So now he has a girlfriend. And a fiance soon, if things go well next week. And now that Bakugo has it, a person he can call his, he doesn’t know how he lived without it for so long.
Bakugo doesn’t know how he spent so many years sleeping alone, when now he wakes up and his legs are tangled between yours and your head rests on his chest. You trace the scars that litter his body so gently, gentler than anyone has ever handled him. You know how to match Bakugo’s temper, but better how to calm him down when his flares too much. But it’s more than that. It’s the little things. You always make him lunch for work because you know how busy he gets, and you always leave his towel at the top of the pile because you know he gets up before you. Such small noncommittal things that make all the difference in the world because it shows that you care.
It makes him regret. He wishes he’d given these things a chance when he was younger. But he doesn’t need to think about that because he has you now. It also makes him appreciate patrolling a little more but nobody could beat that information out of him if they tried.
Bakugo sighs. The TV blares a movie he’s not paying attention to. He’d clicked the first thing that had come up in Netflix, some horror movie with an awfully predictable plot. He’s more focused on his phone, more precisely the clock, which tells him you’ll be home in about five minutes.
Bakugo loves his days off. Any hero does. They are so far and few between that he has no choice but to enjoy them, the few days a month where he can do nothing and not worry about the fate of Japan for one day. What he likes most, though, is that he gets to see you. Before, days off consisted of sitting in his apartment alone or being dragged out to whatever activity Mina had organised for the day. Even then, the odds of them all being off was slim, and so he usually ended up doing the former. He didn’t mind it. Bakugo caught up on his hobbies, tried new recipes. The only perk is now, he gets to do it with you.
And like a miracle, he hears the jingle of your keys in the lock, and he can feel the tension in his shoulders drop.
The door swings open and you walk in, calling out to let him know you’re home. He leans his head back on the couch until he can see you, and you grin up at him. You’re wearing an old pair of jeans and one of his hoodies, and you hang up your jacket, sighing heavily.
“Why was the store so busy? It’s Sunday.” You grumble, walking to the kitchen to drop off bags of groceries.
“Idiots like you who left their chores until the last minute.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him.
“Shut it. I nearly beat up this old lady in the fruit section. Trying to take my watermelon.” You mumble under your breath.
You slip off the hoodie, grabbing the t-shirt you’d left on the couch. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, and Bakugo got a beautiful eyeful right before you slip it on.
“Uh huh. You sure you need that shirt?”
He tilts his head and you smile, pulling out the claw clip holding up your hair and scratching your scalp. You slip off your jeans, throwing them on the floor, and shuffle your way over to him.
“Yes. I’m cold.”
“I’ll warm you up.”
You snort. You clamber onto his lap and Bakugo sits back, hands smoothing over your thighs as you lean your head on his shoulder. You smell like your sweet perfume and outside, and Bakugo lets a hand run up your back and into your hair.
“That’s cheesy. I could wear more layers.” You ponder and he tuts, hands moving down to slip beneath your shirt.
It’s baggy and oversized, and covers far too much if you ask him. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and his fingers dance against your hips and up, past your waist and to your chest. You sit up, smile curving your lips and your own hands settle on his shoulders.
“So handsy. I was trying to tell you about my day, Suki.” You pout and he reaches up and kisses you.
“Go ahead. M’listening.” He nods, kissing your cheek and your jaw and down your neck.
Bakugo is selfish. He’s self-aware enough to admit that. He’s selfish with his work, the way he fought his way to the top, and still does. He’d improved on it in his growing age but he finds that when you’re involved he doesn’t give a shit. He wants every part of your, every breath, every noise that comes out of that pretty little mouth of yours.
“So, of course I tried to be nice. I’m no animal.”
He’s not paying as much attention as he should be. In his defence, it’s been far too long since he’s gotten a chance to be with you. He’s been far to busy, and the small hours you meet in bed before you both drift off into sleep is not enough.
“Stop being nice. It’s your biggest weakness.” He raises an eyebrow.
You flick him squarely in the forehead and he scowls. “Ow.”
“You need to start being nice, Mr Pro hero. But anyway, she started like, trying to tug it out my hands! And you know what old people are like. So entitled.”
Bakugo nods. You feel great under his hands but. He wants something more.
“And so now I’m in this fruit aisle sort of shouting a little because I had the watermelon first, and- Katsuki, get out of my shirt!” You laugh as Bakugo slips his head beneath, kissing his way up your stomach.
“That’s- Your hair, it tickles.” You try to push him out but he groans.
“Piss off. Keep talking. Did you kick her ass?”
You sigh. “I- Okay, wait.”
You quickly pull your shirt off. “Is this better?”
Bakugo grins, lazy and sharp. “Much.”
Your hand reaches up and cards through his hair. He mumbles into your skin for you to continue, and kisses his way up to your chest.
“And this employee comes over. And he started trying to diffuse the tension, but then he started defending her! And saying I should ‘respect my elders’.” You huff.
Bakugo nods. He kisses across the valley of your breast, the soft skin that presses against the stubble of his jaw.
“You want me to beat him up?”
“Hm. I don’t think it will look good on your agency if you beat up Whole food workers.” You sigh.
Bakugo sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing against it. You make a noise in the back of your throat.
“And. And then I got kind of fed up. The employee had a really annoying voice.”
Your eyes flutter shut a little when he moves to the other one. His hand comes up to grab the breast his mouth isn’t working on and you sigh.
“He. So I just gave her the watermelon. Cause it wasn’t really that serious.”
Bakugo nods. He lets go, breath cooling the air around your nipple and he glances up at you.
“You should’ve called me. I’d have blown that old hag to the nearest nursery home.”
You giggle and he grins. His hand presses into the small of your back and pushes you closer. He diverts his attention from your tits and kisses you softly instead. At least it’s soft at first. But then you whine ever so slightly into his mouth and it’s all over after that. His lips almost devour yours, and he can feel your face heat as he nips at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to tangle against your own. Bakugo drags you closer but you huff. Your hand running through his hair pulls his head back and Bakugo frowns.
“The fuck?”
“How is it fair that I’m sitting in my underwear and you’re fully dressed?”
“I was waiting for you to finish your story first.”
You smile warmly. Bakugo doesn’t know of anyone else who looks at him with so much love. You grab his face and squish his cheeks together.
“You’re so cute.” You coo.
“Shut up.”
“Okay, you made me too horny to finish my story. It was a stupid one, anyway. Can we go fuck now?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
bakugo kiss challenge go kiss me NOEOWWWW
ive been sooo lazy to write recently.. this took me ages to write and it's nnot even that long.. but i hope u all enjoy!
omg I actually jumped for joy when I saw this was an option, CAN I PUHLEEEASE HAVE rude ~ magic! butler x prince/princess FOR SHINSOU
TRACK ELEVEN: SHINSOU HITOSHI // rude ~ magic!
trope: butler x princess ( NSFW! )
event link
You wake up, as you do everyday, with a pillow being thrown in your face.
You can’t fault Shinsou. You sleep like the dead, and he learnt quickly that trying to wake you up in any way other than violently, it just wasn’t going to work. You groan, flipping around and burying your head deeper into the soft silk pillows stacked beneath your head.
“Up you get, princess. You’ve a lot of work to do today.” He scolds lightly, opening your curtains and letting in the harsh morning light.
You groan louder, throwing the pillow back at him. He makes an unimpressed noise as it hits his back. “That it not very ladylike of you.”
“Throwing pillows at ladies is not very gentlemanly of you, either.” You grumble.
You push yourself up, leaning on your elbows. Your hair is a mess, and you push the unruly strands out of your face to fix him with an unhappy look. “It is too early to wake me up. The sun has barely passed the horizon.”
Shinsou tilts his head, strands of lavender hair brushing against his face. “Was it not you who told me to wake you the moment it was light outside?”
You had. But that’s neither here nor there. You tell him as much, and Shinsou rolls his eyes. “You have about a million things to do today. An early start is a good one.”
“Oh, alright.”
Shinsou stands at the foot of your bed, hands clasped behind his back. “Shall I prepare your morning tea?”
“Yes, please.” You huff, finally getting up out of bed.
Shinsou disappears for a moment, and returns carefully carrying a tray. You’re not surprised with the speed it takes him to produce it. He knows your morning routine better than you do, and you’re sure he has it ready before you even tell him you want it.
The floor is cold against your bare feet when you finally stand, and you thank him softly as you grab the cup, taking a long sip. You sigh happily, feeling the warmth spread through you.
You place the cup back on the tray, and clap your hands together determinedly. “Okay. What is on my agenda today?”
You walk over to your closet, surveying your dresses and skirts. When you were younger, your father insisted you had maids dress you and bathe you and practically breathe down your neck constantly. You hated every second of it. The day you turned eighteen, you put your foot down, insistent that you didn’t need anyone helping you with anything anymore.
Shinsou is the only exception.
“Well, you have a dress fitting at twelve o’clock, then your English lessons.” Shinsou rattles off. “Oh, and then, of course, your father’s ball in the evening.”
You frown, hands pausing where you’d been flitting through your clothes. “Another?”
“Another.”
You sigh irritatedly. “I think I’ll be old and withered by the time he’s finished throwing them.”
Shinsou shrugs, leaning against your bedroom door. “It’s ball season. It’s to be expected.”
You turn to Shinsou. “And it is still so tiresome and boring.”
Shinsou snorts a laugh. “Why are you sulking so much? What’s the issue in dressing up and eating food?”
You do sound a bit ridiculous. There’s thousands of girls who’d kill to be in the position you’re in, and here you are, complaining about being pampered.
“Apologies. I don’t mean to sound so spoiled.” You say sheepishly, turning back to your closet.
Shinsou smiles slightly. “Ever so humble, our princess.”
You pick out a dress and a corset, walking over and laying them across your bed. Your nightgown flutters around your legs, and it pillows around you as you sit down on the edge of your bed. You smooth your hands over the material.
“Alright. Please leave, so I can change.”
“Are you sure you do not need any assistance?” Shinsou hums. “A proper butler should never leave his lady looking anything less than perfect.”
You ignore the playful lilt to his voice, and the flush that spreads through your cheeks at being called his lady. You turn your head waving him off.
“I will be quite alright, thank you.”
Shinsou sighs dejectedly, bowing. “Very well. I will be outside if you need me.”
You’re sure if people heard the way he speaks sometimes, when it’s just the two of you and there’s no one else around, he’d be fired on the spot. Maybe something worse, if your father was not in a forgiving mood. But you love it. He talks to you like you’re just Y/N, not a princess or royalty. You think it also helps that he’s easy on the eyes.
Shinsou worked a few years in the King’s guard before he became your lord-in-waiting. There was an incident, you’d heard whispered in the halls of the castle, something that rendered him unable to fight. You’ve thought about asking him about it once or twice, but he gets awfully wistfully whenever you pass the new knights training in the grounds, so you decide not too. He was too good to lose, so your father appointed him as your butler and guard all in one.
That being said, the hard muscles and lean body he’d earned from all his training hadn’t yet faded. Not that you noticed it that much. You don’t like Shinsou just because he’s good-looking. It’s just nice to talk to a man who treats you like every other girl, and not untouchable royalty. Most men you speak to act like they’re one wrong word away from being banished from the kingdom, and the rest are more interested in becoming King then becoming anything meaningful to you.
And who are you to turn down a bit of harmless flirting?
You manage to get everything on by yourself, apart from your corset. You try, in vain, to tighten the intricate strings in the back, but you can barely see them from the mirror on your vanity. You sigh irritatedly, and call Shinsou back in.
The door opens almost instantly, and Shinsou steps inside, shooting you a smile. “You’ve called me back so quickly? I knew you couldn’t resist my expert services.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure. If that is what you need to believe.”
You hold the corset tightly against your chest. It’s not the first time he’s done this for you, but you still feel nervous at the exposed skin of your back and shoulders being so plainly in his view. Shinsou sees the loose laces and already knows what you need.
“Turn around for me.” He murmurs. “Unless you’d rather stay half-dressed.”
You shoot him a look but turn anyway. Shinsou’s fingers brush against your back as he picks up the soft laces.
“So mouthy.” You tut and Shinsou huffs a laugh.
It’s still early, and the sunlight casts shadows over your room. Shinsou had opened your windows in the morning, so a cold breeze settles over your skin. You pretened that that is the reason for the goosebumps on your arms. You brace yourself as he tightens them, sucking in a breath. You’d think you’d get used to having your insides squished together in these things, but it never gets any easier. Shinsou’s hand trails higher, and you can feel the warmth of his skin on your own as he works.
His breath ghosts against your ear as he leans in. “I think you like mouthy. It’s much more interesting.”
You don’t respond to that, mainly because you’re not sure you can without sounding as flustered as you feel.
He ties off the laces and smooths his hands down the soft material. “All finished.”
You look at yourself in the reflection of your bedroom mirror. This dress is one of your favourites. The material is so soft, layers of tulle and dark green fabric that puff around your legs. There’s jewels sewn into the lining, and when you step into the light they glint and shimmer.
Shinsou’s hands leave your waist, almost reluctantly. “It’s a crime such a pretty dress is wasted on your morning duties.”
You smile slightly, brushing the material down. “Well, do not worry. I’m sure I’ll have a prettier dress to wear tonight. And I’m sure father has lined up enough suitors to ogle at me all they’d like.”
Shinsou can hear the bitterness in your tone, and you can feel his eyes on you as he takes a step back. “You don’t seem particularly excited about that.”
You regard yourself in the mirror, shaking your head. “Would anyone be? These men, they. They all have the same goal in mind, the same as my father: He’s very adamant that I find a husband sooner rather than later.”
You fiddle with the fabric of your skirts, the material soft as you twirl it around your finger nervously. Shinsou walks forward, and you turn to face him. He unhooks your fingers from skirt, smiling slightly.
“You’re still young. You have time.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not young. We are the same age, no?”
“Yes. There are very different expectations expected of us, though.” He muses. “But tonight will be fun.”
You cross your arms, glancing up at him. “It never is. You’re lucky. You only have to sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of us act a fool.”
“I’m only interested in watching one of you.”
You wave him off, biting back a smile.
He’s so close. Close enough that a few inches more and you’d be touching, and then you could finally do what your brain has been begging for since the first time you spoke. It lingers in your mind for longer than it should, and takes a good deal of effort to ignore.
Instead of doing anything stupid, you take a step back and pray that he ignores how nervous you look, that there’s a chance he doesn’t even notice it.
“We- I should go. I’ve got a busy day ahead.” You smile faintly, grabbing your hairbrush from your dresser.
If Shinsou has any protests about your dismissal of him, he doesn’t voice them. He only nods, moving to the door.
“I’ll be outside to escort you to the tailor once you are ready.”
“Yes, thank you.” You smile, the brush going limp in your hand as the door shuts quietly behind him.
You don’t call him back this time.
—-
Dress fittings are very uncomfortable occasions.
Being stood in a room of about six people all staring at every curve and contour of your body is your worst nightmare. And they aren’t shy. No, your father appoints the best of the best, and the best of the best seem to think their own words are gospel, and that they can do and say whatever they like. You’ve actually had one of them grip the fat of your thighs and tut, and insist you ‘skip dessert’ for the next few weeks if you want to fit into a nicer dress.
You hate them all. Except for Hakamada. He doesn’t really talk much, but he’s patient, and seems to care more about how you feel than if his dresses get worn. He’s worked for your family for years, and you’re glad that you at least have him to save you from the other two.
Unfortunately, you don’t think he can make today’s fitting, which is why you’re wearing the monstrosity that you are. You’re standing on the small podium so they can all see you properly, and you frown at your reflection in the mirror. The dress is too frilly and comically big. You’re unsure how they even expect you to walk around in this without falling flat on your face. You look completely ridiculous, and judging by how Shinsou is refusing to meet your eye from the corner of the room, he agrees too.
Suzuki bites her bottom lip worriedly as she examines you, fluffing up the skirt. “Is it too pink?”
“It’s too pink.” Ito nods.
You nod. “Yes, I-“
Suzuki quickly waves you off. “No offence, darling but let us professionals decide this, okay?”She says, flashing you one of her fake smiles that show way too much teeth.
You want to say that you're both agreeing, so your opinion is clearly not any less valid than hers, but instead you give her a tight-lipped smile and focus your attention back to your reflection.
They gawk at you for a moment more before Ito ushers you over to the folding screen so you can get changed into the next dress they have waiting for you.
You’re thankful to be rid of the suffocating material, and you stand and wait for them to pass you the next one. They take their time looking through the option while you stand half naked waiting for them. You feel too exposed in just your undergarments, and you cross your arms over your chest and try not to storm out of the room. The two idiots are arguing over whose dress should be tried on next. It’s by God’s saving grace that the doors to the room open, and Hakamada walks in with his own garments draped over his arm.
“Apologies for my lateness, your majesty.” He bows, and you peek your head over the side of the folding screen so you can beam at him.
“No worries. I’m glad you could make it.”
Shinsou takes the dresses from his arms and hangs them up on one of the clothing racks near the front of the room. They share some small conversations. They know each other, back from when Shinsou was a knight and Hakamada had designed their uniforms. You see a wistful look in his eyes, and you wonder if he misses working out in the field instead of being with you.
Ito and Suzuki immediately look annoyed upon Hakamada’s arrival, and you roll your eyes at their sour expressions.
“Hakamada! We thought you couldn’t make it today.” The smile on Ito’s face looks like it pains him, and you stifle a laugh.
“I thought I’d be held up, but I was not.” He states. “Is it my turn to present my dress?”
“Maybe we-“
“Yes!” You exclaim. You’re still peering over the side, clinging to the screen so you don’t accidentally flash anyone. “Yes, I’d like to see your options.”
Hakamada nods, gesturing for Shinsou to bring him one.
Suzuki sighs irritatedly. “Princess, with all due respect-“
“With all due respect, I am the one to be wearing the dress, so I think I am well within my right to decide which one it is to be.” You snap.
They don’t have a reply for that. Shinsou walks over to give you the dress, and his fingers brush yours as you take it from his hands.
“Feisty.” He murmurs under his breath, and you turn around to hide your smile.
One of your maids helps you into the dress, and when you step up on the podium and see yourself in the mirror, you know this is the one.
You run your hands down the soft tulle and the skirt that perfectly circles your waist. The fabric is a mix of white and purple, colours fading into one another, with gold sequins sewn into the delicate material.
“This one. This is the one I want.” You say, turning around to see the back in the mirror.
Hakamada smiles slightly. “Perfect.” He comes to stand behind you, cinching it a little more around your waist.
“I think I’ll need to take it in a little here, but it’ll be ready for tonight.”
“Perfect.” You grin.
Ito reaches forward, his hands hovering over the material. Hakamada bats him away but he doesn’t move. “Are you sure? I have a purple one we could look at?”
“No. I like this one.” You say firmly.
“Are you sure?” Suzuki also hovers on your other side. “There’s still a lot more options left. And this one, it’s nice, yes, but I’m sure I can find something that flatters you a bit more.”
“I like this one, though.” You reply, but your voice is already getting weaker.
You’re already slightly regretting your choice under their scrutinising gaze. Your confidence dwindles as they whisper between themselves and you fiddle with the fabric, biting your cheek as you look at yourself harshly in the mirror
“I think it flatters her just fine.” Hakamada shoots them a look but you’re already losing interest.
You sigh. “Maybe. Maybe we should look at a few more. Just in case?”
You hear a noise of disagreement from the back of the room. You look up in the mirror and catch Shinsou’s eyes. He’s stood dutifully at the back of the room and his gaze hasn’t left you since you walked in.
“I don’t think you need to try on anymore dresses.” He says.
Suzuki rolls her eyes. “Of course. Now the butler has an opinion.” She mutters, throwing her waist measure on the table.
You pay her no mind. Your eyes are still trained on Shinsou. “Really?”
“Yes. You look beautiful.”
You let out a breath of relief, his reassurance enough to quell all your worries. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll take this one, please.”
——-
It feels as if your English lessons fly by, mainly because you spend the whole time thinking about the ball later in the evening. You aren’t nervous about it. You don’t think you could be nervous over something you’ve done a million times, you just have no energy for it today. You wish you could just sit in the garden or read one of the novels your father had bought you from a few towns over, anything at all.
Instead, you’re staring in front of the large ballroom doors, awaiting your announcement to enter the hall.
Your face feels heavy with the makeup caked onto it, and your dress has been considerably tightened around your waist. Your chest is heaving out your corset a little more than you feel comfortable with, and the heels you have on click as you tap your foot impatiently on the floor. You feel like a show pony, dressed up to be paraded around the room, and you know it’ll only get worse once you walk in there.
“Smile, princess.” Shinsou sings behind you.
You wave him off. Technically, he doesn’t need to be here. When you’re at an event like this, he should wait in his room or with the other staff until you’re finished and need him again. But he doesn’t usually do that. He hovers around the edges of the ballroom, and you’re thankful for it. The second you get bored or too tired, he’s there to escort you back to your room.
But today, you’re in a bad mood, and his teasing smile is only making you feel worse.
Shinsou raises a brow at the expression on your face. “Someone’s grumpy. English lessons didn’t go well?”
“Don’t be dense, Shinsou.” You grumble. “I can’t believe I have to spend the next few hours here. In this stupid dress.”
“At least it’s a beautiful dress. Very purple. I like that touch.”
That may or may not have something to do with why you liked the colour so much. The lavender is suspiciously similar to the one on his head, but you don’t dwell on it too much.
You huff, fluffing out the fabrics so they fall neatly around you. “Your wit is unappreciated at this time.”
Shinsou sighs wistfully, leaning against the wall beside him. “You don’t appreciate it any time.”
You hear your father wrapping up his welcome speech, and you know it’s time for you to walk in soon. Shinsou saddles up to your side and nudges your arm.
“It’ll be fine, princess. You won’t be in there that long, and then you can complain about it all night to me.”
That eases you slightly. You nod, a small smile curling against your lips. “Alright. That’ll tide me over, I suppose.”
As if on cue, the heavy doors of the ballroom open, and Shinsou shuffles out of sight. It’s a walk you’ve done a million times, down the middle of the room and up to join your father where he waits at the front. But your skin still crawls at all the eyes on you, hungry and searching and all over your body. But you ignore it, smile brightly and keep your head high as you join your father.
The party is the same as it always is. You go around and greet your guests for what feels like hours. They ask about your studies, about your father, but mostly about your youth, and how quickly it’s slipping away. A few of the more confident ones even slip in a few comments about babies, which you very dutifully ignore.
Occasionally, when the conversation is dry or someone is rattling on about something you’ve heard a million times before, your eyes drift around the room until they land on Shinsou. You think he’s always looking at you because whenever you find him, his deep gaze is trained squarely on you. He makes faces at the more annoying guests and rolls his eyes when they talk too long and you stifle your laughter behind sips of your champagne. It’s nice. It feels like you have someone on your side.
It doesn’t get really bad until Keigo approaches you.
You’ve spoken to him once or twice. He’s one of your fathers favorite suitors, a prince hailing from a kingdom too rich for its own good, but you hate his guts. He’s handsome, sure, but that seems to be the only good trait he possesses. He’s rude and conceited, and he seems to think that the ground he walks on is blessed. If you ended up married to him, you’d toss yourself off your bedroom balcony to get away from him.
Your efforts to avoid him only go well for so long. He approaches you confidently and you internally groan as he makes his way over to you.
“Your majesty.” He greets, placing a kiss on the back of your hand.
You’re trying very hard to hide the disgust on your face as he rises to his full height, smiling at you with teeth so white they reflect the light from the chandelier above you. “Keigo. What a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Seems like it was impossible to get you alone tonight.”
“Oh, yes.” You laugh awkwardly. “I was busy greeting my guests.”
“I’m a guest too, no? One of the more important ones, I’d say.” He grins.
“Right.” You take a sip of your champagne. “So how have you been?”
“Perfect.” Keigo is standing far too close to you, and the smell of his cologne is strong and stings your nostrils. “I just finished the furnishing in my new palace.”
“Another one? Do you not already own two?”
Keigo smirks. “You can never have too many. You should come by and see it. See them.”
You nod. “Maybe one day.”
Maybe never.
In one swift move, Keigo takes the champagne glass out of your hand.
You furrow your brows. “That- I was drinking that.”
He doesn’t pay you any mind. He carelessly dumps it onto the tray of one of your maids, almost spilling it over her, and before you can give her an apology he’s dragging you towards the middle of the room. The orchestra in the far corner of the room notices the commotion as people make space for the two of you, and begin to play a slow ballad. You watch in horror as people couple up and gather around you, and you have no choice but to comply with his dancing.
Keigo wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your waist and dragging your other hand up with his. The music crescendos and the two of you start flirting around the ballroom. You’re not entirely sure how the two of you got into this situation, but you grit your teeth and let him spin you slowly.
“You’re a great dancer.” He muses.
“It’s my duty to be.” You reply, your hair fanning around you as he dips you down and lifts you up.
Your eyes drift and you see Shinsou. He doesn’t look happy. His body seems tense and you watch him scan the way Keigo clings to your body, before he promptly turns away.
“So,” Keigo begins and your attention is drawn back to him, “I think enough time has been wasted.”
Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, princess.” The nickname tastes bitter coming from him, and you sigh irritatedly.
“I do not.”
Keigo chuckles, like you’re some blithering idiot, and when he speaks again, he does it slowly, like you’re too stupid to understand him if he speaks any quicker. “The marriage between our kingdoms of course.”
If he sees the blood drain from your face he makes no comment, just grips your hand with more purpose. “Our fathers seem pleased, and let’s be honest. You’re not getting any younger.”
“What did you just say to me?” You snap, and he only smiles.
“It’s true, my lady. But don’t misunderstand me. You are still by far the prettiest thing I’ve ever set my eyes on. Let’s just hope those looks age well, or I might have to upgrade to a newer model.”
And if his words didn’t disgust you enough, the hand that’s been circling your waist rises up until he’s practically fondling your chest, and you push him off you like his touch burned your skin.
“Get off me! Have you lost your mind?” You hiss, and he has the audacity to look offended, like you had done something wrong.
“I think you’ve lost yours. Don’t forget what I am to you.” He snaps and you laugh incredulously.
“You are nothing!” You yell, and you don’t care that half the room is staring at you now.
Because you’ve had enough. It’s like the damn inside you that had been threatening to burst has finally exploded, and you feel so hot with your rage that you have to clench your fists at your side to stop yourself from hitting him.
“I will never marry you. I will never- I would rather slit my own wrists than spend another second by your side.”
You ignore the gasps around the room, the sound of your voice echoing across the ballroom. You ignore the thunderous voice of your father, and storm out of the room, dress billowing behind you as the doors fly open.
You head for the garden. This late in the evening, it’ll be empty, and the last thing you need right now is anybody in your way. None of the maids are stupid enough to try and approach you, and you’re undisturbed as you finally make your way outside, the cool air soothing you slightly. You pace up and down the cobblestone path, your breath coming out fast and shaky, trying to calm yourself down.
Your father will kill you for what you just pulled. The whole kingdom will exile you to the farthest village possible for the embarrassment you just caused them. And even though a small part of you feels vindicated for finally yelling at Keigo in the face, you know the consequences of that action will far outweigh any gratification you got from it.
You slump down on one of the wooden benches. You try not to cry. Really, you do, but you can’t help the stinging behind your eyes, and the tears that smear the makeup that had been so carefully painted on your face hours before. You don’t know if it's anger or sadness or the accumulation of all the things you’ve been feeling the past few weeks, but you can’t stop them anyway.
You’re alone, so luckily there’s nobody to see you. You feel pathetic. You don’t have many girl friends you’d trust with something like this, and your maids would only listen for the gossip.
It’s when you’re feeling extremely alone that Shinsou finds you, as he always does.
You hear his footsteps thundering up the path, and when you lift your head up to meet his gaze, his face is creased with worry. It worsens when he sees your tear-stricken face, and he sits besides you. “No, don’t cry, Y/N.”
“They’re not sad tears, I’m- I’m really pissed.” You sniff, and Shinsou breathes a laugh.
His hand rubs smoothing circles into your back, and the feeling of his skin on yours feels better than you’d like to admit. It isn’t like Keigo, where you felt like your body was setting itself on fire trying to reject him. No, your body feels on fire for entirely different reasons.
You wipe furiously at your face and you’re sure you’ve smudged your makeup terribly. “I can’t believe him. Did you see what he did? How he grabbed me?”
Shinsou’s hand slides down and grabs your hand. “I saw.”
“Yes, you always do. If only you could’ve helped me.” You pout.
“Well, if it wouldn’t have ended with my head on a stake I’d have loved to jump to your rescue.” He muses, and you shake your head.
You rub at your eyes again and Shinsou huffs a laugh. You look at him curiously, and he points at your face. “Your mascara. You look like a panda.”
He swipes under you eyes slightly. “A very angry panda.”
“I am very angry. You should have heard what he was saying. Just disgusting. He’s a degenerate-”
“Princess-”
“He’s intolerable, he’s-”
“Y/N.” Shinsou says more firmly and your mouth clicks shut.
He looks good right now. His cheeks are slightly flushed from his run to find you, his hair so perfectly dishevelled and fluttering in the wind. He’s wearing a tux, a cheap one, but it still fits him perfectly, and from where he’s sitting the moon reflects over him in a way that makes him look a little otherworldly. Like something too good to be human.
You don’t catch what he says, too distracted by his pretty face to hear him. “Sorry, what?”
Shinsou smiles. “I said, why don’t I take you back to your room, and you can calm down and get yourself to bed.”
You bite at your lip. “What about my father?”
Shinsou waves you off. “He won’t say anything to you now. He’s too busy trying to calm down the crowd at the ball.”
You groan, burying your face in your hands. “God. I should not have done that.”
“It was quite attractive to watch.”
Your head shoots up, and he’s looking at you with a grin that should be illegal with the way it makes your toes curl in your heels.
“Shut it.” You stand up, face on fire.
“Will do.”
He escorts you to your room quickly, avoiding any unwanted interactions. He stands guard outside your door, and you hear him turn away the few people who try to enter your room, insisting that you’re not well enough to talk to anyone.
You wash your face slowly, wiping away the tear tracks and ruined makeup. You undress yourself as best as you can but you struggle after getting your heels and stocking off. You try your best to undo the corset on your dress, but it’s too difficult to untie on your own, the laces far back and way too tight. It took three people to get you in this dress. You won’t be enough to get you out of it.
After struggling for five minutes, you consider cutting yourself out of it. But the dress is too nice for that. There’s no maid you can ask. You’re too embarrassed to be seen by anyone right now. Except for the man standing outside your room.
You peek your head around your bedroom door. Shinsou is leaning against the wall, his tie loosened and his hand in his pockets.
“Shinsou.” You whisper. “Can you help me get this dress off?”
Shinsou raises a brow, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “You’re moving fast. Shouldn’t I propose first?”
“Shut up and get in here.” You scold and he follows your orders quickly.
The door clicks shut softly behind him. The light in your room is dim, only coming from the few candles you have lit around the room. The place is always clean. The maids don’t let even a speck of dust land on any of your furniture, no clutter or any sort of mess. You're thankful for them, of course, but sometimes you feel like your room is a set, not somewhere you live. But it’s home, you suppose.
Shinsou definitely feels at home. In your bedroom, you two can ditch the boundaries you have to keep when you're in public. He stretches himself out on your bed, tossing his suit jacket onto the chair on your vanity.
You roll your eyes at him. “Can you stop stretching on my bed and help me?”
“Apologies.” He gets to his feet and stands behind you.
You move your hair out the way. This feels oddly reminiscent of this morning, but with your heart feeling a lot heavier than it did then. Shinsou nearly groans at the sight of the complicated knots of your corset.
“So many knots. Do they really all need to be here?”
“Well, unless you’d like me to reveal my chest to half the kingdom, then yes, they do.”
Shinsou laughs and his breath is warm against your neck. “I definitely don’t want that.”
He begins to untie them slowly. “Are you feeling better?”
You hum. “Slightly. The anger has faded and embarrassment has started to kick in.”
“It wasn’t embarrassing.” He reassures you.
“No, it was.”
“Maybe. It was entertaining, at least.” He murmurs and you wince. “Is Keigo really that bad?”
You shake your head. “He’s worse. He told me that my father has basically chosen him to be my suitor.”
Shinsou's hands freeze on your back. “He did?”
You try not to read into it. You really do, but it's late and you feel weak after crying, and you read it as everything you want it to be.
“Yes. But I won't.”
Shinsou finally untangles the last string, and your hands come up to hold the corset in place. “Y/N-”
“I don’t care. I can’t marry him.” You take a step away from Shinsou, like the distance will make the tension in the room any less stifling.
It doesn’t help. You can feel his presence behind you, can feel him looking at the contours of your back. He shouldn’t be seeing you like this, not even thinking about you like this, but you can't bring yourself to care.
“Because of the whole disgusting degenerate thing?” Shinsou teases lightly, but it falls flat.
“Yes. And something else.”
“The blond hair?” You know he’s trying to joke with you to make this easier.
You don't fall for the bait.
Instead, you turn, and his face looks as full of yearning as your heart feels. And it’s the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s always looking at you, that gives you the courage to do what the two of you have been dancing around for months.
“You know why.” You whisper.
Shinsou breathes out, his body deflating. He steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.”
“Why? It’s about time, no?” You plead, and he shakes his head furiously.
“You can’t- We both can’t.” He snaps. He puts even more distance between the two of you, his knees hitting the back of your bed, and you rush to close it.
“And why not? Are you not sick of this, this waiting between the two of us for something to happen?” You fidget with your corset, hastily tying it behind you so that it won’t fall as you walk after him.
He holds his hand out and you stop. He walks swiftly to the door, fingers itching against the handle. But he doesn’t leave. Shinsou just stands there.
“Because once we do this, we can never go back.”
“I don’t want to go back. I want- I-“
You look a mess. You’re sure of it. You’d ditched your crinoline so your dress hangs around your feet, and your corset is slanted across your chest from where you’d haphazardly tied it. Your face is bare and most likely tinted red from your efforts to scrub your makeup off.
And still, he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And it makes your heart ache and you shake your head.
“I want you. I want you, Shinsou.” You whisper. “Not them. And I can’t keep pretending anymore.”
“Y/N.” His voice is strained. “Please.”
“Every second I’m in those ridiculous balls I’m just waiting until I can see you. I- It’s always been you, Shinsou.”
He hasn’t said anything. Which is strange, because he never doesn’t have something to whisper under his breath, to murmur to you when you have to be serious. He’s just looking at you, eyes flitting between yours desperately, his fingers still wrapped around the handle.
You fiddle with your hands nervously. “Shinsou. Please say something.”
He doesn’t. You swallow roughly as the seconds drag on for what feels like hours.
“Okay. Okay, I just embarrassed myself for a second time today. It’s okay, you can leave. Pretend I said nothing.” You laugh awkwardly, trying to push him out the door.
But he doesn’t budge. Shinsou finally lets go of the door and wraps his hand around yours. You don’t have time to question what he’s doing. Because in one swift motion, he’s pulling you towards him and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing desperately against yours.
For a moment, you think you’re dreaming. Because this has been the subject of so many of your fantasies you don’t really think it’s happening.
But it’s real. His warm lips move against yours, and your teeth click against his, out of practice. His hands slide down from where they cup your cheek to grip your waist and pull you closer until your chest bumps into his. You let out a deep sigh, hands curling in his soft hair, tugging at the strands and eliciting a groan from his chest. His kiss is hungry. Years of feelings festering between the two of you thrumming through your veins. He breaks apart and his lips are slick with your spit, and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.
“Fuck.” His hands squeeze where they’re wrapped around your waist. “What are we doing?”
“Kissing.” You grin, pressing a soft one to his cheek, hands gliding over his muscular arms.
He shakes his head but he puts up no resistance as you kiss his cheeks again, then his jaw, and the soft junction of his neck. “This is stupid. We shouldn’t do this.”
“We’re already doing it.” You whisper against his skin and Shinsou pulls you back to face him.
His voice is soft and serious when he speaks, and the heat in your stomach only worsens at the careful way he’s looking at you. “Y/N. I need you to be sure this is what you want. And I need you to understand how serious this is. ”
His hand cups your face and his thumb runs over the curve of your cheek. You’re sure you’re looking at him with stars in his eyes, and you nod frantically. “Very serious.”
Shinsou tongue pokes at his cheek and he gives your cheek a light tap. He grins at the way your eyes light up at the contact. “Be serious.”
You hum. “I am. And this is what I want.”
“Alright, then.”
Shinsou turns you around and your back hits your bedroom door with a light thud. Your dress loops around the two of you and he smiles warmly. Long fingers wrap around your wrists, both his hands in one of yours, and he holds them above you as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. He’s not rushing anymore. His kisses are slow and sensual, his tongue dancing against your own. He tastes sweet, like the desserts stacked on the dining tables in the ballroom. You ease into him, hands twitching as you squirm in his grasp.
“Easy.” He murmurs. “I’ve been waiting too long for this to finish so quickly.”
He lets go of your hands, and instead unties the loose knot in the back of your corset. He looks to you for permission but you’re already shucking it off, tossing it on the floor behind you. You feel a flutter of nerves as his eyes rake over your body. Your arms move to hide yourself but he tuts, pulling them out the way.
“Don’t do that.” He scolds. “I need to see you.”
His fingers are calloused as they glide over your chest and under the thin fabric of your undergarments. When you don’t push him away he lets them glide over your nipples, as his leg pushes up to press between your thighs. He pinches them carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escapes you is muffled into his mouth.
“So soft. So beautiful.” He sighs as you break apart, and your reply is lost in your throat as he sucks a soft red mark into your skin.
“Wait,” you breathe. “You can’t. The maids will see.” You curl your hands in his hair and pull him back up.
Despite the fact it should be, this isn’t the first time you’ve been with a man. You’ve always been rebellious, to say the least, and while you haven’t lost your virginity, you’ve practically done everything else. But for some reason, everything with Shinsou feels different, feels heightened. Your skin feels hot and your underwear feels slick and you can barely catch your breath. Shinsou is pressed into you and you can feel him, feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh.
“Shame. Would’ve loved to mark you.” He sighs, dropping to his knees.
“Shinsou, what-“
“Mark you and show you off to all those men who can’t keep their filthy hands off you.” He bundles up your skirt and ducks his head under it.
Your face burns as you look down at him. “Shinsou, what are you doing?” You mumble.
“Need to taste you.” He says it so matter-of-factory, like you’re the one that’s being ridiculous.
He slips your underwear down your legs in one swift motion and eases you out of them. You barely have time to react before Shinsou licks up the length of your pussy, long and hard, and you find yourself melting into his touch.
“Fuck.” You breathe out, bracing your hand against the wall.
Shinsou hums against your skin, hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder. He’s done this before. You’re sure of it, because his tongue moves like it has a mind of its own, and your legs twitch as he laps over the soft flesh of your pussy. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs and he’s so insistent with his movements it feels like he’s trying to crawl his way inside of you.
He gives one firm lick over your clit and you keen. “Shinsou, please.”
“I know, baby.” He detaches from you with a wet noise that makes your face burn. “I bet nobody has touched you like this before.”
Despite the fact you think you’re about to finish all over his face, you snort a laugh. “Do not be so sure.”
Shinsou pauses his movement, mouth inches from your skin, his breath ghosting over your spit-soaked lips. You frown as he unhooks your leg from his shoulder, rising from underneath your dress to eye you suspiciously.
“Somebody has?”
“Two somebodies, actually.” You smile at his ruffled hair and at what you think is jealousy clouding over his face.
“Is that so?”
“It is.” You squirm a little, restless. “Can you please continue, now?”
Shinsou doesn’t move though. His gaze doesn’t leave your face. “Were they good?”
So it is jealousy. In all honesty, they weren’t very good. The first time you’d been sixteen, young and rosy/cheeked and too giddy that you were even in the same proximity as a boy to focus too much on his handiwork. You did finish, so there’s that. The second time, you were older, and he had been a little more experienced. He hadn’t been the best, more concerned with you returning the favour than whether you were enjoying yourself.
But you’ve seen this look on Shinsou before, the jealousy that clouds his features when you’re even standing too close to another man, and you like it.
“The best.”
Shinsou scoffs, ducking his head back down. You think he’s cursing someone under his breath, and your teasing retort is stolen from your lips as he thrusts two fingers inside you, his tongue resuming its work on your clit.
You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. It occurs to you very fleetingly that if the two of you get caught, Shinsou is as good as dead. And while you’re sure that nobody will bother you after everything that happened tonight, if anyone passing by hears a single sound out of you, it’ll be over.
And it’s hard to stay quiet when Shinsou is so determined to get you to break. His fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out. You’re dripping down his palm, and your hips chase his lithe fingers, grinding yourself on him so he hits that soft spot inside you that makes the corners of your vision blur.
“I’m close. I’m close, Shinsou.” You pant.
“Hitoshi.” He purrs into your skin.
And all it takes is him sucking your clit deep into his mouth for you to finish with his name on your lips, your legs twitching and your fingers digging into his shoulder. He keeps at you until you’re pushing him away, whining until he unveils his head from under your dress once more.
His cheeks are flushed when he rises to his feet, and he pouts at you, cooing. “God, look at you. You’re a mess.” He pushes your hair back behind your ear and you only have enough energy to shoot him an unimpressed look.
“Come on. We aren’t finished yet, pretty girl.”
It feels like it takes seconds for the two of you to undress and scramble onto your bed. The sheets are soft and cool your hot skin, and as you rest your head on your pillows, Shinsou crowds your vision. His hands grab your hips and move you into position beneath him. Your eyes rake over his naked body, the muscle of his arms and thighs, the scars that litter his body. Your fingers brush against the trail of hair leading down, and you watch with lidded eyes as he pumps himself slowly.
His other hand slides down and rubs at your sex and you squirm, still too overstimulated. “Oh, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He adjusts himself at your entrance and you wait with bated breath for him to move. As soon as the head presses against your folds, you brace yourself. You’re sure his preparations were enough, but it’s been a while since you’ve had intercourse with another man.
But he doesn’t go any further than that. He just rubs his tip up and down, right against your clit until your brain feels foggy and you could cum again just from that.
“Shinsou. Come on.” You whine.
He tilts his head, completely unbothered despite the fact he’s so hard he’s leaking pre-cum all over you. “You know what to call me.”
“Hitoshi, please.”
The corner of his lip tilts up, and the smirk on his face is just not fair.
“Tell me what you want.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “And I’ll give it to you.”
“I want you.” You breathe, eyes slipping shut.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. It’s always been you.” Shinsou’s nose rubs against yours and his sighs sound so relieved.
“That’s a good fucking girl.”
You’re wet enough that when Shinsou finally starts to press into you, the slickness of your arousal makes it easy. You whine as your walls stress, and he hushes you, presses soft kisses into your skin until he’s fully seated inside you.
He’s barely moving. He holds himself up with one arm while the other grabs your waist, and his head is bent over your chest, his breaths long and hard. He just rocks his hips in a slow, filthy grind that draws the pleasure out. He thrusts in and out of you slowly. Like your his, like he has all the time in the world to lay you on your sheets and ruin you.
“Need- I need you to be quiet. Okay?” He whispers against your lips. “We can’t let anybody hear us.”
Soft moans leave your lips but you nod regardless. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
Your cunt makes a lewd, wet sound as he pulls out and presses back in quickly, and you squirm at the fullness. And then he’s moving even faster, starting up a steady pace. The slap of his hips hitting yours echo around the room. Each thrust pushes you up the bed, and you hook your arms around his neck to brace yourself.
“So good,” he places wet, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. “So perfect.”
You couldn't respond if you tried. You’re too focused on the feel of his cock against your walls, all hot and aching, and the fact that you can’t make as much noise as you wish you could. Shinsou’s so long you think he’s reaching in parts of you nobody has before, and the sting of the stretch is completely overwhelmed by how good it feels.
“Feels so good, Hitoshi.” You gasp, and your nails dig into his back as he lifts your hips up.
“Perfect fucking pussy,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl.”
The praise stirs in your stomach. His girl, his girl. It runs circles around your head as he drills into you. He’s watching your face so closely, your fucked-out expression as his hand comes up to tug at your nipple.
You tug the soft hair at the nape of his neck to steady yourself. You want this to last longer, but you can already feel the coil tightening in your stomach as his cock drags in and out of you
“Hitoshi. I’m close.” You whine, and he nods.
“It’s okay, baby. You can come.” He uses a thumb to rub at your clit and he bites at your pulse and you can’t hold it in anymore.
Your walls clench around him and you both groan as you unravel around him. Your arousal drenches him as you convulse around him, your walls fluttering, and his breath stutters.
“That’s it. Just like that.” He pants.
Shinsou works you through it until your legs are twitching beneath him. You fall back on the bed, but Shinsou doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, still hard and still not finished.
“Hitoshi. I can’t- S’too much.” You try and push him off.
“You can.” He orders, his voice low and a little mean.
He’s so commanding that you nod instantly, hands gripping his arms to brace yourself as you nod weakly. “I can.”
“You can.”
He picks up the pace and he’s almost purring as he drills into you relentlessly. With a few more thrusts, Shinsou comes hard with your name on his lips, his head dropping onto your chest as he spills inside you. You’re still panting as he comes down from his high, a few more lazy, slow movements before he pulls out.
Shinsou has his eyes on the mess between your thighs. He looks a little in awe. His pale skin is flushed red and his hair sticks to his forehead and he grins up at you.
“Look at that. Look what we did together.” He uses two fingers to fuck his cum back inside of you and you close your legs, pushing him away.
“Do not be disgusting.”
“We are both disgusting. And sweaty.”
He drops down beside you with a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around you. You lean into his chest, eyes slipping shut.
“I need to bathe.” You mumble. You doubt you will, though. Your limbs feel too heavy to move.
“Me too. Shall I join you?” He ponders, fingers trailing up and down your bare legs.
You smile slightly. “Maybe you should.”
Part of you still thinks you will blink and this will all have just been a dream. But Shinsou is still beside you when you open your eyes. The glow of your orgasms fades, and with it, suddenly comes the panic of what the two of you have just done.
“Oh my god. What have we done?” You shoot up into a sitting position and cover your face with your hands.
“We had sex.”
Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “We had sex. We had sex. I lost my virginity to my butler.” You splutter.
Shinsou frowns. “Don’t say it like that.”
“But it is like that.”
Shinsou tugs at your arm. “We can panic later. Let’s sleep now, yes?”
You let him pull your back down. You nod and swallow roughly. “Okay. Yes. We should sleep. While we still have bed and board, and my father hasn’t disowned me.”
Shinsou snorts. “Calm down. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
OMF.. can anyone hear me or see me.. yes guys it’s true I am alive and my fanfic are as well… I have been SO FLIPPING BUSY with uni and Eid and jsut life I’ve had no time to write and I kinda lost my mojo but I am back!!
