By definition, your relationship with Kaneki Ken was forbidden.
The infamous half-ghoul and the prodigy of Arima Kishou? That was almost as good as being a Montague and a Capulet.
You got lost in thought as your lover hunted through your apartment for your first aid kit.
Would the CCG be the Capulets if this were indeed a Romeo and Juliet story? They were the ones who had more power, after all. They were able to walk around freely during the day, freely hunting down their prey while ghouls hid in fear for their lives.
A gentle caress on the back of your head made you jump and look up from your spot on the side of the bathtub.
Kaneki Ken stands illuminated by the bathroom light, but you swear you’ve never seen anything more handsome. The harsh luminescence makes his white hair almost transparent, and his dark gray eyes are overshadowed as he bends his head and sits beside you.
“You found it?” You ask, and he nods, keeping quiet, and you don’t miss how he doesn’t say a word.
He’s angry. That much is obvious.
You don’t want to argue, don’t want to fight. So you wordlessly unbutton your white work shirt that’s coated in your own blood and shed it, tossing it in the bathroom sink. Then, you turn around so he can see how bad the damage is. While he doesn’t say a word, you hear the almost inaudible gasp that escapes him.
And you know how bad it is.
The kagune of the Aogiri Tree ghoul had cut deeply into your shoulder blades and spine. It wasn’t lethal. You could still walk and everything. It had been a tough fight, with you getting the injuries protecting a small child that had almost been a midnight snack for the ghoul. He—or she, you couldn’t tell with the mask—had been an Ukaku type, with wings of reds and purples that you, frankly, found beautiful.
It almost hurt you to kill them.
But you had to remind yourself that all ghouls weren’t like Kaneki. They weren’t all like Anteiku. Some of them are simply man-eating monsters, people or not; that wasn’t something you could forgive that easily.
The sting of antiseptic has you jolting from your memories, and you hiss in pain against your attempts to keep quiet. Ken murmurs a soft “sorry” but doesn’t stop cleaning the gunk and grime out of the gash.
“You’ll need stitches.” He says in that quiet voice of his. You hum,
“I trust you.” You whisper, and he doesn’t respond.
He’s been so silent after everything with Jason. But you still hear soft cries when he thinks you’re asleep. You still see the almost invisible shaking of his hands when there’s a loud, unexpected noise.
You still see how broken he is because of it.
But you also see how strong it made him. He loves fiercer, holds you just a few seconds longer every time he hugs you, every time he kisses you.
The pain of the needle dipping in and out of your skin and muscles has you biting your knuckle to keep quiet. While your neighbors knew what you did for a living, that didn’t mean they had to know you were in agony.
Ken, luckily, makes it quick. He ties off the thread and cuts it before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the wound. His lips are soft, and when he leans his forehead between your shoulder blades, you can feel how worried he is.
Because he almost lost you tonight.
If your partner had been a few seconds slower or hadn’t gotten you away from the ghoul in time, you would have died. Would have left him alone.
“You don’t have to be so gentle.” You say and feel him shift, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you tenderly into his chest.
“Yes, I do.” He says, and you hear his voice crack, “Someone has to be.”
And that breaks your heart.
Because you know it’s true.
Your hands are perpetually coated in red and covered in harsh calluses and blisters from handling your quinque. Your body is hard with muscle from endless fights.
You aren’t gentle with yourself. You know it. Ken knows it.
Abruptly, you realize he’s talking.
“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” He whispers, and you smile. Weren’t you just thinking about Romeo and Juliet? You lean your head back and turn it so you can kiss his hair.
“Is that a roundabout way of saying you love me?” You ask and feel him chuckle, feel the vibrations against your back.
“I suppose so.” Is all he says. But he doesn’t need to say more.
— summary ; you never expected to kiss one of the hated humanoid monsters, yet here you were. or: first kiss with him.
— cw ; don't worry he doesn't actually have blood on his lips, fluff, awkward first kiss, slight making out? est. relationship
only god knew why and how you ended up in a dark alley behind anteiku, but you were there and something was about to happen. you weren't dense, you could feel it in the way kaneki was looking at you – or rather, the way his gaze had dropped down to your lips more than once already. a gesture you reciprocated eagerly, until at some point you were just awkwardly staring at each other's lips.
you didn't know how to go from there, as you never kissed someone before. you weren't one to put much thought into what your first kiss would be like, but you always assumed it would be with a human. yet here you were, cornered by the ghoul you grew to adore.
no, kaneki didn't verbally tell you he wanted to kiss you, but you weren't oblivious; there was only one possible outcome to the position you were currently in, and you were afloat on the tight atmosphere. you couldn't wait, although you were incredibly nervous just as much.
"i-is this okay?" the half-ghoul asked, bringing up his hand to cup your cheek. kaneki gazed at you full of worry, as if one wrong move would break the spell and scare you away.
"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head to lean into his light touch a little more. you offered him an awkward smile, not knowing what else to say.
"i never did this before," kaneki confessed. "i guess i'm afraid of messing up, afraid of losing control, i don't know, i just–"
"only one way to find out, right?" you shrugged, trying to come off calm and collected. but your voice was a little shaky and uneven, giving away how nerves got a tight grip on you.
the boy with hair as pale as the moon visibly gulped, but something in his gaze hardened resolutely. it was as if he made up his mind, bringing up his other hand to cup your face completely and tilting your head to his favor. all physical distance was slowly being eliminated, the heavy anticipation palpable in the air between you. kaneki moved closer to you, barely daring to breathe as his eyes fluttered closed. you shuddered when his lips ghosted over yours, a fleeting touch that made both your breath hitch in your throat.
but the ghoul hesitated, froze in his movements, even drew back a little as his eyes opened anxiously. he was nervous, and it wasn't hard to figure out what was on his mind. after all, behind his soft lips rested the teeth of a deadly predator, and right now the hunter brought its teeth close to its prey.
"we can wait if it doesn't feel okay yet," you reassured him as fear rose in his grey eyes. "we don't have to do it right now, there's no rush."
"no, i want this," kaneki sputtered, a slight frown falling upon his features. "i'm just afraid of hurting you, one way or another."
"i trust you," you solemnly told him.
"you shouldn't," the ghoul shook his head.
"but i do," you countered. "kiss me, ken."
kaneki sighed, muttering something under his breath before he finally gave in. the final distance that separated you was eliminated as his lips met yours – tentative, brief, lingering for but a second before he pulled back. he watched you, and as you showed no signs of dismay he dove right back in. this time he kissed you with more fervor, more courage, his lips moving against yours in a somewhat uncoordinated rhythm.
but god, you were enjoying it. your hands found his sweater, fingers clawing at the soft fabric to pull him even closer to you. he was being careful, he was holding back, you could feel it. but you weren't going to ask for more – not now. you were beyond happy with what he was giving you already.
when he pulled back, he was panting lightly – and so were you. kaneki looked at you, grey eyes full of adoration. you couldn't help but break into a full smile, looping your arms around his neck and hugging him close. the half-ghoul was quick to reciprocate the gesture, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head as he held you lovingly.
"see? i can trust you," you giggled lightly, resting your cheek against his shoulder as you clung to him.
"just not too much, okay?" kaneki muttered, his breath rustling your hair. "i'm a monster, and as much as i love you, you'll never know when i mess up."
it was a peculiar love story the two of you had. humans were supposed to despise ghouls, their only enemy. and yet you fought through the natural boundaries, getting too infatuated with one of the hated humanoids and erasing the line that naturally stood between the hunter and their prey.
but it was okay. maybe kaneki didn't trust himself, but you did. and you knew you wouldn't regret it, ever. after all, love was stronger than his hunger, right?
mizutenshii — O3.1O.2O23 — masterlist
help i never write kiss scenes this was a struggle and i hope it's not a pain to read ><
Tags: [mlw][mdni][fingering][passionate][ex!fwb][quiet reader][slight breeding kink][light choking][hair pulling][quiet sex][no nudity][nipple play][nipple sucking][promise of pregnancy][low-key right person; wrong time][not proofread because my beta reader's asleep]
"I have a fucking kid and you didn't think to tell me?!"
Dick's voice is low, frustration bleeding into his words and his fingertips dig into his palms, blunt nails leaving crescent indentations in the flesh as he stares down at you.
The worst part is, you look so fucking nonchalant about it too.
Sitting crossed legged on the couch, a mug of steaming hot chocolate cradled in your hands and a plate of cookies resting on the surface of the coffee table. The TV plays one of the older episodes of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, and God, the sight of you so relaxed while watching trashy TV makes Dick falter in his anger.
"How do you know he's yours or even mine?"
You speak, your voice soft and gentle, despite the way your eyes burn with annoyance at the fact that Dick's just.... Standing there, in your space, his suit clinging to him like a second skin in the way it always has.
Dick leans forward, his breath fanning across the surface of your face and he gives you the opportunity to see the stormy rage that swirls in brilliant blue irises, darkened by the sense of betrayal at the fact that you've kept his son from him for so long.
"Because he looks like me. He looks fucking just. Like. Me." Dick grits the words out like they're liquid sulphur, burning his throat on the way out.
Before he lets out a breath, dropping onto the seat beside you and he cards a gloved hand through his hair.
"And he told me I look.... Romani. And proceeded to call me a 'gypsy bastard'."
Your apartment looks different from when he was here last.
Warm, pale blue walls, a dark leather sofa and a bigger TV mounted on the wall. Fuzzy blue throw pillows and the bowl of fruity gummies on the coffee table is a fun new addition, just like the drawings that line the walls of the living room, and clutter on top of the fridge.
On each drawing, Dick can make out the scribbled out 'Mommy And Me', usually in a colour that has no match in the palette and he can't deny the heaviness in his heart when he reads that.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Dick speaks softly, hands moving to carefully remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the coffee table and he grabs one of the throw pillows, resting it on his face.
You can practically smell his emotions.
Confused, hurt, betrayed. Frustration's a big one though, and you purse your lips.
"I didn't wanna have the 'is it mine' conversation."
You speak so softly, so sweetly and it reminds Dick of how much motherhood's softened you. It reminds him of the way that you'd have pushed him out the window for showing up unannounced, but instead, you're letting him sit on your couch, and you talk.
Not argue.
You just... Talk.
"I'd know he was mine." Dick murmurs. "We were... Exclusive."
The way Dick says it makes you feel like it was more than just occasional hookups, more than the odd movie date that ended with your ankles touching your ears.
The silence between you is comfortable.
The soft pitter-patter of raindrops dropping against your aluminium window, pot plants on the terrace watered so gently and the TV continues to play, although at a much softer pace.
Dick lowers the pillow, looking at you with big, almost teary blue eyes. Eyes framed by long, inky lashes, full brows and striking hues that make you feel like your breath is dying in your throat with every passing second.
"He's beautiful."
Dick's voice is soft.
"A little bit of an asshole, but he's beautiful."
Before you can answer, before you can even fathom properly what Dick's saying, you hear the crack of a door and the shuffle of tiny feet as Riot stumbles into the living room, fists balled and rubbing at his eyes.
"Mommy, my eye." He sniffles, continuing to scratch at his eye before you let out a quiet hum, your hands hooking underneath the little boy's armpits before you tug him onto your lap.
And you open his eye, the sclera just a bit red and you hum softly.
"Dickie, can you put on the light, please?"
Dick doesn't question the nickname, because it makes his heart swell in a way that has him internally screeching, even as he reaches for the overhead lamp and switches it on.
And your lips purse as you blow on Riot's eye, watching the way his lashes flutter and his eyelid twitches before a teary droplet plops down his cheek.
And you wipe it away, feeling the distinct strand of cat fur against the pad of your thumb.
"We don't even own a cat." You mumble, before using your index knuckle to wipe the watery eye.
"All better?" You muse softly and Riot nods his head, before glancing at Dick with sleepy eyes, lashes fluttering even as he clambers across your lap, and into Dick's.
And his tiny arms wrap around as much of Dick's midsection as he can, his chubby and rosy cheek pressed against Dick's chest.
And the man's expression crumples.
Brows twitch and eyes begin to sting as one of his long fingered hands move to rest on Riot's back, feeling the soft fabric of his pajamas through the glove. And Riot lets out a content sigh.
"Deadbeat gypsy." The words are muffled, but they're audible enough for Dick's lips to part in shock, brows raising before letting out a bark of laughter.
Before he glances at you.
"He's just like you." Dick murmurs, before watching as Riot climbs from his lap, and heading back to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
There's a still silence in the air, only filled by the sound of Kim's voice and rain droplets crashing down outside before Dick clears his throat.
"My— uh...— my patrol ended early." He murmurs softly.
"Do you wanna watch a movie?"
The way you're slot under Dick's bicep, your head against his chest and your legs tossed across his lap makes him feel 4 seconds away from crashing out. Because God, you're so warm and so much softer.
Dick stares unabashedly at the way your plush thighs brush against his when you shift to make yourself comfortable, he feels the way heavier breasts push against his side as you snuggle closer, before ultimately decided to pull the quilt over the both of you.
Your eyes remain glued to the TV, occasionally letting out snorts of laughter as you watch Grown Ups for what you could guess would be the 60th time on your lifetime.
But you can feel Dick's eyes.
Following the curve of your face, watching the way your lashes fan out and watching the way breaths leave your soft, glossy lips. And before Dick can even fathom it, his arm behind you is shifting, hand moving to wrap around your neck, long fingers stretching effortlessly and he brushes his thumb along your pulse, the action causing your head to tilt up and you meet his gaze.
And Dick's lips are pressed against yours, his fingers twitching against your neck before leaving the column of your throat, instead, shifting until you're resting back against the sofa.
You can't refuse. Well shit, you don't want to refuse.
Dick's kissing you like he's dying tomorrow. Lips pressed against yours, his hips nestled between your thighs and his arm moving to support his weight, elbow braced on the armrest above your head, and his other hand cradling your face.
His thumb strokes along the soft skin of your cheek, his hips pushed against yours and his tongue brushing along yours, but his movements stutter when your thighs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck and bringing him down to deepen the kiss.
Dick swears he sees heaven when your fingers card through his hair in that way.
Starting right at the nape of his neck, before dragging those manicured nails, up up up, before they disappear beneath silky raven strands and he sighs into the kiss, before pulling away.
Dilated pupils, and heavy breaths are exchanged between the two of you, and Dick swallows hard.
"Is he a heavy sleeper?" Dick whispers softly, gaze darting towards the bedroom he saw Riot disappear into and you nod your head.
"He is but you're pretty loud." You tease softly and Dick pushes his hips into yours, his bulge prominent beneath his suit and you can feel the way his tip brushes against your clit, even through the layers of fabric between you.
Dick always could find it in record time.
"Fair point." Dick whispers softly, a breathy laugh slipping past his lips, just a bit reddened from the intense kiss and he speaks again.
"But you never were loud."
Two digits bully their way into your cunt, your shorts and panties tugged to the side and Dick's lips are pressed against yours, muffling any sound you could even think of letting escape from your lips.
His tongue is buried in your mouth, thumb rubbing sloppy circles against your throbbing clit and your nails dig into Dick's biceps when he prods at a particularly sensitive spot. Your lashes flutter, and you take a shaky breath when Dick's fingers curl, his glove abandoned on the surface of the coffee table, and Dick pulls away from you, a thin, glossy string of saliva between the two of you before it ultimately breaks.
Landing across your chin and he giggles.
The man fucking giggles, as he uses his free hand to wipe away the mess, before ultimately moving your hair out of your face, staring down at you with pretty, big eyes that look at you so adoringly.
"You're so pretty." Dick murmurs softly, pressing a peck to your lips as he stares at you.
And fuck, you are.
Pretty eyes fanned by long lashes, perfect eyebrows and rosy cheeks, wet and parted lips (both pairs), and a few strands of hair clings to the thin sweat on your forehead and Dick sighs softly.
You're perfectly spread out too.
Hands gripping at him like you're scared he'll disappear, thighs spread messily and your panties and shorts tugged aside. Gummy walls thrum around his digits, pulsing at the intrusion and all he does is he continues to tease your clit, the rough pad of his thumb circling the sensitive and swollen nub as he continues to look at you with those heart eyes.
"Can I take you out tomorrow?" Dick's question is unexpected but he can't lie and say he hasn't been thinking about it since he saw you.
Plush, squishy, and so soft.
And he'd do anything to see you pregnant.
To watch you move around in oversized shirts, a belly swollen and heavy breasts that he could tease because they're just so sensitive and pretty.
And God, he can't even imagine the way your perfect, plump pussy would look, nestled between even rounder thighs, clit completely hidden until he uses his thumbs to spread the lips.
Dick swallows.
Hard.
And he doesn't even notice that his fingers begin to move, curling and prodding, nudging at that little fleshy spot that has your toes curling in your mismatched socks and your nails dig into his forearms.
And Dick remembers just what a sight you are when you come.
Brows pinching into the cutest little frown, lips forming a little 'o' and that gasp that leaves you has him leaking in his suit and he's so glad it's dark.
"That's it, princess, come on my fingers." Dick coos softly. "Use my fingers to make your pretty pussy feel good."
Your eyes roll back, you hide your face in your shoulder and your body freezes, the only movement being the rhythmic spasm of your cunt around his fingers.
His stupidly long, incessant fingers that keep dragging out your orgasm even as you nod your head, a silent answer to his prior question.
And Dick gleams, dimples in his cheeks and brilliant blue eyes lighting up in a way that can only be described as cosmic.
Blue eyes flecked with silvery stars and the gleam of the moon, dilated pupils and pretty lashes and Dick nods.
"Okay." He breathes out. "We're gonna go to the museum, okay? He's a little artist so I think he'd like looking at the paintings?"
You nod meekly, chest still heaving even when you watch as Dick licks his fingers, cleaning them up like he's just licking syrup from his fingers. His long tongue swivels around his digits before he carefully tugs up the fabric of your T-shirt, exposing your torso to the cold air.
Perfect tits, dotted with pebbled nipples and Dick swallows.
He never thought he'd be someone to have a kid out of wedlock but fuck, is he happy to be your baby daddy.
"Come on, princess." Dick hums sweetly. "Let me worship those pretty fucking tits before I leave."
Dick leans down, breath fanning across your chest before his tongue drags along one of your sensitive nipples, and he watches the way your face screws up, biting your bottom lip to stifle any sounds.
And you look at Dick from beneath your lashes, bleary eyes and rosy lips and he groans low.
A rumble in his chest that has your needy pussy pushing out a trickle of slick.
"Keep looking at me like that and I'll get you pregnant again." His lips latch onto the sensitive nub, his free hand moving to palm your other breast, thumb brushing over your nipple.
pairing: richboy! dick grayson x girly! innocent!fem! reader
word count: 3.8k
summary: dick grayson was not a relationship man. he was brooding, cold and much prefered a one night stand- but when you caught his eye at a club, everything changes. so long mr. brooding, and hello head over heels dick!
warnings: sexual thoughts/ implications but nothing happens this chapter, pet names, size kink implied, drinking mentioned, swearing, dick really just turns into a lover boy who is obsessed and possesive with reader hehe
"yuck, now you got me blushin'/ cheeks so red when the blood starts rushing/ yuck, that boy's so mushy, sending me flowers, i'm just tryna get lucky/ yuck, lookin' at me all sucky/ yuck, quit acting like a puppy/ fuck, going all lovey-dovey on me"- yuck, charli xcx
Dick Grayson had his eyes on you.
He watched for hours, simply waiting. He had always been quiet, elegant and sly.
Like a black cat in the night, he slithered his way across a room- seeming to work it without saying a word.
Where the others wore bright reds and soft hues of blue, he wore black. A stark contrast from anyone in the room- he was expected to stick out like a sore thumb. But somehow, he fit right in.
Mingling with others around him, his friends and the bartender when he needed another beer- reading lips over the loud thud of the heavy bass in the club. The bright lights flashed across the room, illuminating pockets and spreads of people from all over Gotham, coated in their daddy’s money- the pink and blue hues catching the glimmer of their diamonds.
But none of them shined as bright as you.
There you were- the spotlight of his eye from where you danced in front of him. You were oblivious, of course- a drink in your hand as you closed your eyes and leaned your head against what he presumed was one of your friends as you swayed your hips to the music.
He couldn't look away.
The way you moved was entrancing.
Not a diamond or emerald on your body, and yet- you seemed to be worth more than anyone at this posh, frat-boys, daddy’s money club.
Was it because you seemed different? Maybe.
Dick Grayson had his fair share of flings and one night stands in his time- but you made him want to try a new approach. Something more than just buying you a drink and taking you home.
And he wasn't sure if that pleased something in him- or terrified him.
There you were, in your sexy little skirt, something resembling go-go boots giving you spunk in your step, with each twirl and spin you did. He bit his lip, body becoming tense all over as he allowed the dirty, sinful thoughts of what he wanted to do to cloud his mind, like the haze that hung over the crowd.
That skirt alone had sent him reeling, clinging onto his self control he had suddenly seemed to lose as he thought of how sweet you’d taste under it.
How soft your thighs would be when he placed sloppy kisses across them,tugging your panties to the side before diving in fully- how sweet you’d taste.
And the little noises you’d make as he savoured you- an extra little whine and squeal as he’d tug on your precious little clit… Fuck.
He closed his eyes, fully tuned out of the conversation Tim was currently trying to have with him and the rest of the group, gripping his beer tight enough the glass started to crack.
He wondered if you’d be shy in bed, or a challenge. Either way- he was eager to find out.
He could always coax the shy ones, or tame the feisty ones. None of them would compare to you, though. He could feel it.
“... Dude. Dick. Are you with us?” a voice called, Tims eyebrows raised in concern, zoning in on his face that seemed tense. “Yeah, yeah man fuck sorry. Just got distracted.”
His eyes followed Dicks gaze- where you stood, mouthing the words to some Charli XCX song with your friends, giggling like schoolgirls.
A little whistle left his lips as he found Dicks line of attack, a smirk on his face. “You did good man. All is forgiven.”
Dick snarled as he patted his back, making the rest of the guys chuckle. “Don’t test me Drake. Seriously.”
Tim threw up his hands in mock defense, that same smirk plastered across his face. He always tried to get under Dicks skin. And Dick hated when it worked.
He was a possessive man- not so materialistic wise (though he did have a pretty penny), but when it came to you? It was as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning on its axis. He didn't even know your name.
He was fucking whipped.
“You gonna go talk to her with your rich boy charm, or are you gonna keep staring like some fuckin creep?”
“I’m trying to engage in a conversation, so I’d rather observe. Thanks though.” Dick mumbled, nursing his drink.
He hadn't studied you enough yet from the sidelines. He didn't need any surprises.
“If by conversation you mean staying silent like always while you act all vigilant like- you’re doing great.” one of the guys joked, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
“Seriously man, if you don't go for her- I might.”
The stare he sent Tims way was enough to silence him mid sentence, pursing his lips before taking a swig of his own drink. “Jesus man I’m kidding. But go get your girl. She's getting away.”
His eyes snapped back to where you stood, but all there was was a flurry of motion. You slipped through the crowd, smiling softly to everyone you passed by, so innocent and sweet it made him dizzy with want.
Without a word, he chugged the rest of his drink, slinking after you like a minx. “And don't just follow her like some stalker dude!” a voice behind him called, that he so conveniently ignored.
Cracking his knuckles, he glared at a frat boy who eyed you up and down after you passed him, fighting back an audible growl at the man. He had to calm himself the fuck down. It's not like you were his, not yet anyways- and he truly had no business being all up in your business.
But those nagging thoughts were dialed down in his brain as he watched you slip out of the club's doors, past the bouncers and line up outside- as if he turned down a volume knob.
He had to follow you. It wasn't safe alone at night, not for you, anyways.
When he had you under his wing, he’d never let this happen again.
Why the fuck werent your friends leaving with you? Were they really your friends?
He had to have this talk with you later on. It wasn't cool they were just letting you leave at- he checked his watch, just after midnight on a Friday night.
Baring the constant Gotham chill, he kept his distance (and failed), blending in with the night. He wanted to scream at you, look! See how easy this is for me? Just to sneak up on you like this, practically breathing in the smell of your perfume?
But he kept his mouth shut, frightening anyone who looked in your direction.
To everyone else, he appeared like some deranged bodyguard. To you- well you were truly oblivious. Humming a tune he had heard early at the club, you skipped along the sidewalk, creating a vomit trail of rainbows, sparkles and kitties wherever your boots touched.
It was like the clouds had parted just for you, moonlight shining down on your hair. It made something flutter in his stomach.
Butterflies? No, it couldn't be. Butterflies had never taken flight in his stomach, only bats. Cold, dark bats that churned with anxiety.
But a weight seemed to be lifted as he watched over you, protecting you from perceived threats. This just made sense to him. To be watching over you like this.
It felt right.
He stopped, watching as you opened the door that housed a cozy, dimmed cocktail bar. The smell of vanilla and soft cashmere enveloped his senses, disappearing as fast as it came when the glass door fell shut.
He stood, waiting.
After a minute, he decided. He needed another drink, it seemed.
You had walked to the first place you could think of. Tommy’s, on 56th and 8th. It was perfect, a five minute walk from the club you were desperately trying to escape.
The thudding music and sardine of bodies was fun- until it wasn't. You had quickly grown tired of the buzz, your head pumping as hard as the base from the drinks and people.
You much preferred the quiet hum of people that chatted at their tables in the bar, soft jazz music playing from the speakers.
You were out of place in your outfit- but you couldn't care less. You needed quiet, and alone time.
You waved cheerfully at the bartender on shift- Carter. You knew him from the few times you had stopped by, and he was always so sweet.
Your friends all told you he was flirting and you were just oblivious to it- but you disagreed. He was just being sweet, probably because you tipped him well- with what little money you had. Tonight was no different than any other, he dropped everything he was doing to come over to you with a smile plastered on his face as you slid up on the barstool, letting your feet dangle.
“Hi Carter.”
“Hi, you. Regular?” You nodded, watching as he got to work, grabbing the vodka and orange triple sec. You let your gaze wander over to the mirror behind him, resting your head in your hand as you noted your smeared lipgloss and the raindrops that had soaked through your white sleeves.
You were distracted though from nitpicking your appearance too much- as you eyes darted over to the hunk of a man who lingered in the shadows behind you.
The bar was dimmed already, candlelights flickering on each table illuminating an eerie glow- and the soft spotlights under the bar didn’t add much. But he stood out, somehow to you.
His hard, dark eyes were staring at you, as if he were trying to figure you out.
Your gaze met his in the reflection, and his instantly softened, a playful little smile just barely hinting on his face. You felt your cheeks heat and you quickly averted your gaze, before meeting his again.
Now he wore a full smirk. As if you fell right into his trap. Yet, he just watched as you got your cosmo, sipping on it slowly.
The drink was sweet, just as you liked it, and you savoured the taste of citrus on your tongue as you watched Carter tend to the bar, watching his hands quickly fly around all over the place, a hand on a bottle before it was wrapped around a glass, passing it over the counter to anyone who’d come over with a card to swipe.
It was mesmerising, really. But not as mesmerizing as the mystery man's cold, hard demeanour that seemed to linger throughout the room- his attentions directed at you.
It made you squirm, and left a weird, tingly feeling in the pit of your core. You shifted, thighs rubbing together as you finished the last sip of your drink, a soft clink sounding as you slammed it down on the bartop.
Just as you were about to pull out your card from your purse, a low, gruff voice emerged from beside you, a large arm extended with a shiny black amex card glittering in his hand.
The mystery man.
“Just add it under my card. Thanks.” He told Carter, barely sparing him a glance before all his attention was focused on you again.
Carter could hardly sputter a word out before he was shooed- the man fully turned to face you, his large, broad shoulders practically shielding you from anything else but him.
“Wouldn't want a pretty lil thing like you paying, now would we?”
You just stared at him with wide eyes, mouth practically gaping open.
He was beautiful. Even more so up close. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. You wanted to bury your face into his cashmere sweater and bite his biceps like some teething child.
Woah, okay. Drunk you talking. Pump the breaks.
“Well thank you sir, but I promise you don’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”
He just laughed.
“Sir? Dont treat me like I’m some old man, bunny. I’m only a few years older than you- if that.”
You looked away, tongue tied and flustered with the way he was staring at you. “I’m so sorry, I was just trying to be polite and jus-”
“Hey, hey I’m just teasing. It’s really cute.”
You giggled as he sat down in the stool beside you, making it look play sized. “So you decided to come over cause we were playing eye tag?”
“Something like that.”
You snorted, toying with the rim of your empty glass. “And here I thought you were coming over to compliment my hair.”
His eyes glimmered with amusement, clearly enjoying your drunken jests.
“I think your hair is lovely.”
“Do you think I’m lovely?”
His eyes darkened with lust, and you watched as he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the skin.
“I think you are divine.”
You giggled. “Are you going to try and kiss me sometime tonight?”
“If you’ll let me.” You pursed your lips together swinging your feet as you thought. You did really wanna kiss him. But you didnt even know his name.
“I’m Dick. Dick Grayson.”
Nevermind, that clears that up.
“Y/N.” You darted your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. Hot. Did you want this man to come back with you to your apartment? Yeah, actually- you did.
He seemed nice. You didnt realize you had blurted that outloud until he broke the silence with a loud laugh, practically shaking in his seat.
“You dont just invite a man back to your place because he seems nice, bunny. What if I was dangerous?”
Your eyes widdened. “Are you dangerous?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You don't seem dangerous. You seem nice. And you smell good. And you paid for my drink, which you did not have to do. So I like you.”
You brought your hands together, jumping up from the stool with a start, wobbling slightly. “Well! I suppose we ought to go explore.” Carter raised his eyebrow, slowly and silently sliding Dicks card back over the counter.
“Carter, it was lovely to see you- as always. My concondalences.” you blew him a kiss, swinging your purse over your shoulder. He contored his face in confusion.
“Condolences? For what?”
“No idea. I guess for being you, and having your life. Goodnight!”
And with that, you left the door swinging on your way out, an extremely stunned looking Carter staring at you from behind the glass pane.
------------------------------------------------
“So, you just get ice cream? No matter the weather?” Dick asked you, taking a lick of his mint chip ice cream you had nagged him to buy, as the two of you made your way back to your apartment.
You looked like a married couple.
It was cold, dark and late, and he had slipped his jacket over your shoulders. It felt like a dress.
But no matter the weather, you got ice cream. There was no need for an occasion. Ice cream should be an everyday occasion, actually.
“The weather doesn't control anything, silly. Same with holidays. Why can’t we celebrate Halloween on a random Tuesday? Makes no sense to me.” You shrugged, licking your cone, ice cream dripping down on your fingers.
You felt Dicks eyes on you as you laughed, smearing soft serve on the tip of your nose. You were nearing your place, and you insisted you wanted Dick to come up with you.
Though you were extremely drunk, you knew he would take care of you. You just had a feeling you couldn't quite shake.
“Have I told you how handsome you are?” you asked, steadying yourself as you clung to his arm, as he guided you up the steps to your building.
You had given him your address, per his request- so he could actually get you home safely instead of just wandering around random streets trying to remember.
“You’ve told me many times tonight. It’s very sweet of you to say, bunny.”
“Kay. Just wanted to make sure you knew.”
He couldn't help but laugh, watching as you tried to search for your keys with one hand. He reached in his pocket, the jangling of your pink keychains capturing your attention immediately.
“How did you get those?”
“You gave them to me, remember?”
You shook your head.
“Oh bunny. What are we gonna do with you?” he tsked, clucking his lips as he took the last bite of his ice cream before unlocking the door, following you up the stairs to your place.
Honestly, he was beyond blessed you had captured his eye tonight- because he didn't even want to think about how you'd get home. You were too trustworthy, too sweet and kind to anyone who “seemed nice”.
He was pretty sure if he told Tim you said he “seemed nice” he would have a laughing fit so hard he’d die from asphyxiation. But here was now, to protect you, and to keep you safe from your own nativity.
He’d teach you how you should behave. With him, only trusting him. Other people would just take advantage of you.
“We’re here!” you smiled, taking the last bite of your ice cream cone, chewing happily as the waffle cone seemed to melt in your mouth.
“You should be a doorman, handling my keys and stuff. Do they do that?”
“No idea. But I don't think you should be giving anyone your keys but me. Got it?”
You nodded, leaning against the doorframe as he (once again) unlocked your door, leading you inside your own apartment.
“Thanks for taking care of me Dickie. I really, really appreciate it.” you slurred, stumbling in as he found the lightswitch, flickering the lights on.
He smiled to himself as he looked around, your apartment being so very you- and so against him. It was soft and light, gentle shades of pink and white, with bows and frills galore. Little trinkets were scattered around, with magnets on the fridge.
It looked- lived in.
He felt like he was home, and he had been in here for less than five minutes. Or maybe that was just you- amplified times a million. Everything smelt like you, reminded him of your bubbly personality- it was impossible not to marvel.
You plopped yourself on the couch, somehow toppling over the back so your legs were sprawled like a newborn fawns in the air.
He tried so hard not to look as your skirt rose up, giving him the perfect view of your dainty little panties that made him hard as a fucking rock.
He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before approaching you, towering over the side of the couch as his fingers found the zippers to your boots.
”Let's get these off now, okay pretty girl?”
“Mhgm” was all you could mutter out as he began to slowly work them off your feet, setting them down on the floor neatly, so they wouldn't be a tripping hazard in the morning.
“You wanna get to bed silly?”
“Mghm. I’m sleeping here- can’t move. Too weak.” you murmured, hand flung over your eyes, hiding from the light. He chuckled.
“Too weak eh? Such a lil thing, aren't cha?” he taunted, wasting no time to get you into his arms, carrying you like a princess to the room he presumed was your bedroom.
You barely let out a protest, quickly nuzzling into his chest as he took careful steps, trying not to rock you.
“Can just pick you up so easily. You’re such a pretty girl.” he smiled, planting a kiss to your head, before setting you down on the bed.
“Can you stay?” you asked, reaching out to grasp his hand, curling it around his finger. He nodded.
“Of course, bunny. Let me just get you some water, okay?”
You nodded, mumbling incoherent phrases as he made his way over the scattered clothes (and thongs) on your bedroom floor, back out to the kitchen.
What would Tim make of all of this shit? He thought to himself as he grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.
He wouldn't believe him, if Dick told him. Here he was, caring for you like you were his girlfriend, and to be honest, in Dicks mind- you already were his.
You were so different, he just couldnt explain it. So no, he didnt want just a quick drunk fuck to get off- he wanted to care for you, to make sure you were tucked in bed safely.
His heart had gone soft, it seemed- he chuckled to himself as he made a quick trip to the bathroom, opening cupboards above the sink to fish for some advil.
You’d definitely need this.
“I’m back, bunny. See? I'm not leaving.” he smiled softly as you stirred, rubbing your eyes. He set the glass and meds down on your nightstand, brushing your exposed shoulder softly.
“I brought some meds okay? Let's take them now, so it's not as bad in the morning.”
You nodded, but made no movement to get up and take them yourself. Your brain was fuzzy and the room seemed to spin.
Sensing this, he slowly guided you to sit up, hand cradling your back as he placed the pills in your mouth, tilting your head back slowly to get you to swallow with water.
“Atta girl, there we go. Did you swallow?” he asked, and you stuck out your tongue, showing the pills were gone.
The action alone sent his thoughts completely in the other direction, and he cursed himself for it. He’d have to relieve himself before bed tonight, in your bathroom.
Oh well.
“Good girl. Let's get some sleep now, okay?”
“Okay. Gnight Dickie.” you smiled softly to yourself as you slumped back onto the bed, passed out in seconds. He sighed as he stood back up to his full height, watching your hands grip the sheets as you dozed.
Sleeping in those clothes couldn't be comfortable, but he didn't want to remove anything without you being conscious, or giving full consent. So for now, he’d leave them.
He was sure he’d hear all about it the next morning, how you couldn't sleep in outdoor clothes on the bed- or whatever shit girls always said- but it was worth keeping his distance, and hearing the bickering.
His phone buzzed- Tims contact flashing across his screen.
Tim: Well? You get lucky?
He smirked to himself.
Dick: Something like that. I’m taking the couch tonight.
He threw his phone somewhere in the cushions as he grabbed a blanket, stripping down to his boxers.
He had one last trip before bed, and his cock seemed to be reminding him like a snoozed alarm every two minutes. When he finally managed to slip to the bathroom and seek his much needed relief- all he could do was stare at himself in the mirror, his hands gripping the sink.
warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied smut, discussion of sex
“Baby…”
You don’t look up from your book as you hum, “Hm?”
“You’re being mean,” he pouts from the end of the couch.
You purse your lips. “If I am, you deserve it.”
His head lulls backwards pathetically, “I don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”
You ignore him, scanning over the words littering the page with little thought.
He takes your lack of response as an invitation to climb up the couch a bit, just close enough that he can nibble kisses at your neck.
“Come on, I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.
You roll your eyes, flipping to the next page in your book as his hands feel up your waist. He’s apologized a few times already, but you’re not ready to let it go. He’d bailed last minute on your date nights one too many times and you’ve had enough. So if no sex is the only thing that seems to get his attention, no sex it is. You’re not mad, not really, but if you can give him a taste of the neglect you’ve been feeling, well…
He continues despite the lack of acknowledgement, pestering on. “This is deprivation of nourishment.”
All in all, he’s really not putting up his best argument. He could be doing better work, much better work, and you’re certainly not going to let him off so easily.
“I don’t care.” You move the book you’re not really reading up higher, removing him from your line of sight.
Sensing the challenge, he takes the book from your hands, tossing it blindly out of reach. It lands with an unflattering thump on the hardwood. You gawk at him, but he doesn’t notice, too busy minding his own motivating force.
He pulls you further down the couch, so he’s face level with your stomach. The top of his hair tickles you as he kisses below your navel, hands holding you in place firmly by your waist.
“Baby,” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his lips over. “Please, please let me eat you out.”
You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at the wall.
He rests his chin gently over your stomach, peering up at you with puppy dog eyes. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.
This pushes him to borderline pouting, huffing, “Come on, you’re not having any fun like this either.”
Yeah, but it’s more torturous for him than it is for you.
His lips edge at the seam of your underwear, and his fingers hook under the elastic as he looks up at you expectantly.
You take a deep breath upon the sight, steeling yourself.
“No.”
He lets out an honest to God groan and drops his forehead against your stomach, whining.
You push him off of you, though he does most of the work of shifting his weight for you. You stand up from the couch and retrieve your book from its place on the floor, flipping through it to refind your page as you move for the bedroom door.
“You’re gonna leave me like this?” he calls out at you, watching you leave.
You shrug, “Take care of it yourself.”
“Myself?” He gapes, like he’s shocked at the audacity of the suggestion.
He stands up quickly, scrambling after you into your room.
He watches as you plop down onto the bed, pretending like you’ve got the concentration to keep on reading.
He pouts in the doorway, both surprised and annoyed with your commitment to making him suffer.
At this point he can take care of you better than he can take care of himself, and God knows he prefers to. So it’s bordering on inconceivable that you could have gotten so mad at him as to take away his privileges to do his very favorite thing in the world.
So he snatches your book straight from your hands again—just as you’d found the right page, too—and holds it up high.
“Dick Grayson!”
You swat at him and try to grab it back, but he’s too quick and too tall.
You kneel on the bed, reaching up in a fruitless effort before you drop your arm at your side, glaring.
He raises his chin, silently imploring you.
“Talk to me.”
You roll your eyes, “I am talking to you. I’m not sleeping with you—”
He shakes his head, “No, you’re still mad.”
“And you think this is what’s gonna help?”
He throws his head back. “You’re killing me,” he whines.
“Good.”
“What’s the plan here? Neither of us get to come ever again?”
You all but throw your head back, “I think it’s pretty fucking bold of you to assume that I rely exclusively on you to come.”
He levels you with a look.
“You do though.”
You gape at him. He says it with such self-assurance, so matter-of-fact that it’s not even a joke. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right you do, but you are nowhere near ready to give him the satisfaction.
So, you did something that you knew would piss him off.
“I—” you pause. “Fine.”
You dip your hand underneath your waistband, prepared to prove your fucking point.
“Don’t—” he bats your hand away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He gawks at you, keeping an arm between your hand and your body. “That’s my job.”
You push his arm, with minimal real effort. “It’s my body!”
“You really don’t want me to touch you? Really?”
He levels you with that look he knows you can’t rebound from, giving you no room to squirm away.
Your chin lowers out of pure habit and your mouth shuts. He takes the opportunity to drop the book on the bed, scooping up both your wrists in one go. He pulls them up above your head and holds you against the bedroom wall.
“What can I do?” he asks lowly, face only inches from yours.
You glare at him, not trying to escape his hold.
“You can fuck off.”
“I’m serious,” he says with a roll of his eyes.
You raise your eyebrows as to say, ‘yeah, I am too, buddy.’
“I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me have my girl.”
You tug your hands out of his grasp, and he lets you without complaint.
You huff, looking at him.
“You have to take me out on a date tom—a real date—tomorrow night, the whole night, flowers and everything.”
He’s nodding along with your words eagerly, terms he couldn’t be happier to agree to.
“Even if some vigilante shit comes up—”
“Of course, of course.”
“…and do what you said before,” you say, quieter.
“What did I say before?” he asks, like he truly can’t remember.
“Dick,” you warn.
He smiles, perfectly content to let you off easy.
He leans forward, kissing you deeply but with an air of sweetness.
“I’m sorry I missed our date, pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”
Your shoulders noticeably relax and you take a deep breath, nodding.
“Yeah,” he says as he kneels down on the ground. He grins up at you as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of my baby, of course I will.”
☀️ i’m worried the sun will go out soon if you don’t start reblogging fics ☀️
SUMMARY: Disguised as a eunuch in the imperial palace, a mistake on your part leads to your unmasking before the prince. By rights it should mean your death, but Prince Shouto seems to have another plan in mind...
CONTENT: Prince Shouto, AFAB fem reader, identity reveal, class differences, slight gender fuckery, historical sexism, implications of past sexual threats, vaguely Heian-era historical Japanese setting, deep historical inaccuracy, SFW (2.2k)
NOTES: This was a barely-edited unplanned little thought demon I had to exorcise lol, thank you for being patient with me. Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.
Your breast bindings were missing.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
You flipped your sleeping mat again, clawing through your blankets frantically, hoping you’d somehow missed them the first time. But only the tatami floor stared back up at you—strands of woven rice straw pale and bare.
You muttered a curse under your breath—you’d definitely forgotten to extract your bindings from where you’d shucked off yesterday’s robes, forgotten to squirrel them away before sinking into bed. And now they’d been whisked away by a palace maid to be laundered. Or worse, discovered.
Your eyes darted through your small sleeping chamber frantically, seeking a solution. You were already late for Prince Shouto’s first lesson of the day, and you needed all the time you could get with him today. You’d promised the Minister of Rites that you’d have a word with the prince, to try to persuade Shouto to accept the wife he was so persistently putting his advisors off on.
You were, after all, the prince’s closest confidant—his personal secretary and calligraphy tutor, an unthreatening eunuch from the lower classes with whom Shouto was clearly most at ease. And at least most of that was true—you did have Prince Shouto’s trust, friendship, and respect, as much as a member of the imperial family could bestow on a commoner, anyway.
If he was going to listen to anyone on the subject of taking a wife—at the very least one concubine, if not his future empress—it would be his trusted friend the eunuch.
There was just one very important detail that everyone, even His Highness, was mistaken about on that account.
One blasted detail that could get you killed at best were anyone to figure it out.
Your eyes fell back to your blankets, and you immediately grabbed two fistfuls, yanking as hard as you could until you felt the fabric give, the rip and tear echoing in the small space of your sleeping chamber. You kept ripping until a strip came free, a little smaller than what you usually had to work with.
But you were not about to complain, not at a time like this.
You flung the strip down to scrabble with the tie of your underrobe, unknotting it with fumbling fingers. You were just about to fling it off of you when there was a careful knock against the screen of your door.
You didn’t manage to stifle your reflexive scream, stumbling through a half-executed turn towards the door. The screen was suddenly thrown back with alarming force, Prince Shouto’s figure filling the doorway.
You yanked your shirt closed again, panicking, as you caught sight of the concern on his handsome face. You barely registered the other details, mind tripping over excuses, unable to appreciate the way his shoulders looked all the broader in his sokutai the way you normally did.
“Are you well?” Shouto demanded, his normally soft tone a little ragged. You watched his mismatched eyes dart quickly around your chambers, as if seeking a threat, only to drop back to you when there was none.
“Your Highness,” you said, lost for anything else.
“I heard—there was a scream,” he said, his eyebrows scrunching the tiniest bit.
He always looked his most beautiful when he was confused, you thought, focusing hard on a particular problem. Not that a common woman had any business thinking anything about the crown prince, never mind a woman masquerading as a man. But it was hard to ignore a face that beautiful, the way his gaze sharpened with focus, full mouth pursing as he thought through a problem.
He looked like that now as his gaze darted over you. And then suddenly his eyes dipped to your collarbone, and his features went perfectly, horribly still.
An elegant hand reached back, and he immediately drew the screen closed behind him, eyes never leaving you as he took another step into the room.
You stumbled back, almost tripping over your bedding. You did not dare to turn towards him or away, scuttling sideways instead like a nervous crab.
“Your Highness,” you began again, heart shooting into your mouth when Shouto’s long fingers tangled in your undershirt.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softening. You gripped your shirt closed as hard as you could against the tug of his fingers. “Did something happen?”
“N-nothing,” you stammered, not liking the way it made him clearly more suspicious. “I was just changing.”
But Shouto’s beautiful, cursed eyes dipped to your bedding, where the torn strip lay across your blankets in plain sight. You could almost see the calculation as his eyes widened the tiniest fraction, and his grip tightened on your robes. Of course he’d seen it, and of course it looked like a wound dressing you’d just been about to apply.
He took another step closer, too close, until you could feel the heat of him through your sleeve, smell the sweet blend of dried herbs the servants kept his clothing stored with.
You tried to twist out of Shouto’s grip without rucking up your shirt, but his hold was too strong.
“Let me see,” he ordered in his soft, low tone. Your heartbeat kicked up higher, hammering in your chest so hard it could have broken a rib.
It was a death sentence to ignore an order from a member of the imperial family. It was also a death sentence to reveal what you’d been these many years. You hoped Prince Shouto, something of a friend to you, would let you off lightly for ignoring him.
“Please, Your Highness,” you said, clinging even harder to the closure of your shirt. “I will be ready in just a moment, I am simply running late. I beg your forgiveness.”
But if there was one thing about the crown prince, it was that he was stubborn, bullheaded when it came to the ideas and goals he took seriously. And he had always made it clear he took your friendship seriously.
That perfect mouth shifted into a frown. “I order you to let me see,” he said, his tone still soft but firm. “You will let me.”
You froze under his hands, muscles locking up in panic. Shouto was still between you and the door, and your chambers were not wide enough for you to slip around him without him being able to easily catch you. He was also, unfortunately, extremely quick with sharp reflexes honed by years of swordsmanship. There would be no escaping this situation.
Fuck. Fuck, you were out of ideas.
“Hold still,” Shouto commanded gently, long fingers prying your stiff ones away from the shirt ties. You watched his face in mute panic, not wanting to see the flash of betrayal and disgust, but unable to look away as he prised your robes aside. Shame heated your cheeks.
Shouto’s long eyelashes dipped, before his gaze froze on your chest. For a second, he went as stiff as you. Then he was yanking your robes closed again, a watercolor of pink washing across the bridge of his nose and those high cheekbones.
His eyes darted back to yours, his expression perfectly still though his face was flushed. “You never told me,” he said accusingly.
The right thing to do in this situation was to go to your knees in a kowtow and beg for his mercy, but Shouto still had a grip on your robes and did not look like he meant to let go. You ducked your head in as much of a bow as you could manage, your face warm. “Your Highness, I have no excuse. I have betrayed you.”
When you had concocted this scheme, you had wanted to put yourself beyond the reach of a local official back in your home village. His advances were becoming increasingly aggressive, and as a common woman, you had no recourse. You could only escape into a place where his rule was circumvented by a superior one, where no man would think to have an interest in you.
You had not intended to become Prince Shouto’s tutor, had not anticipated the true risk of your gambit until it was already too late. But you would still rather die than be returned into the hands of your village’s preceptor.
If this is how it ended…
“I have compromised you,” Shouto’s voice startled you out of your memories.
You glanced up at him, befuddled.
Shouto’s fingers twisted in your robes. “Just now, and—all the many times we have been alone until now. I did not know.”
Honor and compromise were the least of your concerns right now, and would matter even less in the event of your death. You did not know where the prince meant to go with this.
“Your Highness, you were not expected to know,” you said, shame coiling in your belly. You would make the same choices you had made over again, if given the chance, but you had never meant to betray Shouto. You had genuinely liked him, and you would regret losing the chance to be by his side in the years to come.
Shouto’s eyes flicked over you in some kind of assessment. He lifted one hand from your shirt, gasping your scholar’s cap and tugging it free from your hair. You felt his fingers tangle so very gently in the strands of your hair, seeking out the ties and pins.
Your own eyes traced over him as he did, drinking in the firm planes of his chest in his sokutai, the dark blue a beautiful contrast with his pale skin. You heard pins dropping to the ground beside you, as Shouto rubbed a strand of your hair between his fingers. He seemed to be evaluating you in a new light, relearning your appearance though a clearer lens.
Disgust and betrayal were not evident in how delicately he was handling you. You did not know what this meant.
“They will put you to death if they know,” Shouto said, eyes slowly moving from the hair between his fingers to your face again. “You cannot hide like this forever.”
You did not know what other choice was to be had. If Shouto did not plan to put you to death himself, then what other choice did you have than to go on pretending?
Shouto’s gaze dropped to your mouth and you realized you’d spoken the thought aloud.
“There is one other way to put you beyond the reach of the court,” he said slowly.
You felt your eyebrows raise in question. “I cannot think of it, Your Highness.”
Shouto absently curled the strand of your hair about his fingers, the little crease between his perfect eyebrows appearing again. He looked the way he did when he played games with his strategy tutor, or when he was thinking hard on a new sword form.
“The ministers wish for me to take a wife,” Shouto said softly. “My household is mine to manage alone.”
Outside the laws of the court, he meant. A strange flutter went through you, heat spotting your cheeks again. Shouto’s presence before you was suddenly magnified a hundred fold, and you became singularly aware of the breadth and height of him, the heat of him almost against you.
“You do not want a wife,” you said, well aware of the many years he’d spent bullheadedly resisting the idea.
“I do not want any the ministers have selected for me,” Shouto corrected.
Your whole body felt flushed again. He meant he was amenable to you.
You had never let yourself think it but he was more than amenable to you as well.
“I would keep you safe,” he promised.
You almost slumped to the floor in relief, only Shouto’s grip on you keeping you upright. You would not die. You would not be returned to your village. You would, through all of this, it seemed, keep Shouto’s friendship.
“I know you would,” you said.
Shouto understood your acceptance. Slowly his fingers untwined themselves from your hair, and he drew your robes more firmly around you. Your body burned hot, still, stomach fluttering under his renewed brand of regard.
“I will arrange it quickly,” Shouto said. “You must stay here. I will send someone for you.”
You nodded.
Shouto looked regretful as he stepped back from you. “We will do it properly, later,” he said. “I will pay my respects to your family.”
You waved a hand frantically, shocked by the idea of the future emperor making his bows in your family’s rundown hut. It was not as though you would be his first-ranked wife or empress! He did not need to pay any respects to the family of a concubine out of a common family!
“There is no need,” you insisted, but Shouto was already turning towards the door. You could see by the set of his shoulders this was another thing he meant to be stubborn about.
“I will honor my first and only wife,” he said, turning to pin you with that heterochromatic gaze.
Your mouth dropped open in shock, but you had no time to reply before he was sliding the door closed behind him again, leaving you alone with the sudden weight of the statement. It had all happened so quickly, you had never expected that Shouto meant what he did.
You wondered what it meant that Shouto had made such a promise so readily, when he had known the truth about you for only minutes.
And you wondered if, like your original entry into the palace, you were getting yourself into something far beyond what you initially understood.
synopsis: you started to notice small things todoroki does, but you’re not sure what they mean just yet.
pairing: timeskip!todoroki shoto x f!reader
⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i listened to you guys
the buzz of the office fades into background noise as you shuffle through the latest batch of mission reports.
your shoulders ache from a particularly rough day in the field, and the stiffness in your neck only serves to remind you of the long hours stretching ahead.
you rub your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.
“rough day?”
the voice pulls you from your thoughts, low and calm with a subtle edge of concern. shoto todoroki stands in the doorway to your shared agency’s common room, his presence as composed as ever.
his hero uniform is slightly scuffed, evidence of his own busy day. still, his mismatched eyes fix on you, quiet but observant.
“yeah, you could say that,” you reply with a weak smile, closing the folder in front of you. “I’ll be fine, though. just a few reports to finish up.”
without another word, todoroki crosses the room. he places a paper cup on the desk beside you, the warm aroma of your favorite coffee wafting up immediately. you blink, glancing between him and the cup.
“thought you could use this,” he says simply, his tone casual but laced with that understated sincerity that’s so distinctly him.
your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “thanks, todoroki. you didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he replies, his voice steady as he turns to leave.
it’s not the first time he’s done something like this—little gestures that seem small on the surface but hold a surprising amount of thoughtfulness.
you’ve chalked it up to his polite nature, the way he’s always been one to notice when someone needs a hand.
but lately, those gestures seem to happen more often, and each time they do, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more behind them.
a few days later, the intensity of the work begins to weigh on you again. a gruelling mission left you feeling physically and emotionally drained, and your muscles protest every movement you make.
you collapse on the couch in the break room, still in your hero gear, too tired to even think about a shower.
todoroki walks in, fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he eyes you for a moment before disappearing into the adjacent kitchenette.
you don’t think much of it until he returns a few minutes later, setting a small ice pack on the table beside you.
“for your shoulder,” he says, nodding toward where you’d been absentmindedly massaging your arm.
you blink, caught off guard by the quiet care in the gesture. “oh, thanks. you didn’t—”
“you overextend that side sometimes,” he interrupts, his voice calm. “you should be careful.”
your mouth opens, but no words come out. instead, you nod, pressing the ice pack against your shoulder as he sits in the chair across from you. the silence that follows is surprisingly comfortable.
you can feel the weight of his gaze occasionally flicking over to you, but it’s not heavy or demanding—more like a quiet understanding, the kind that doesn’t require explanation.
there’s a certain ease between you two, even when neither of you says much.
it’s in the way todoroki always seems to anticipate what you need, how he quietly adjusts the environment around you without ever making a show of it. and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it feels…right.
the moments continue to add up, each one more subtle than the last.
after a long patrol, you find a bottle of water placed carefully on your desk with a note—drink up, you’ve been dehydrated all day.
it’s an obvious thing, but the gesture still feels personal, like he noticed something you hadn’t even considered.
the next day, you’re struggling to get through a particularly difficult set of paperwork when your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at the screen to see a message from him: how’s the report going?
you smirk at the simplicity of it. he knew exactly what you were doing.
when you reply that you’re about to hit a wall, todoroki doesn’t respond immediately.
but later, when you make your way into the break room for a quick break, there’s a sandwich on the counter—your favorite kind, carefully wrapped in a napkin.
no note this time, just the quiet understanding that he had noticed, even from across the building.
it’s when you’re sitting on the rooftop of the agency a few weeks later that the weight of it all really hits you. the city sprawls out before you, the lights twinkling against the night sky.
you’re lost in your thoughts when the sound of footsteps pulls you back.
todoroki appears at your side, a familiar calmness in his expression. he doesn’t say anything right away, just leans against the railing beside you.
the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable, the kind that doesn’t demand to be filled. you’ve shared enough of these moments that you don’t feel the need to say anything.
“figured you’d be up here,” he says eventually, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.
you glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “needed a breather. what about you?”
“same,” he admits. “it’s been a long day.”
there’s something in his voice, a small shift, and for the first time, you realize just how much of an emotional weight he carries.
you’ve always known him to be calm, calculated, and collected, but there’s something more underneath, a pressure he doesn’t always show.
when he looks at you now, there’s something in his eyes—something softer, more open than usual.
“thanks for the coffee earlier,” you say, breaking the silence. “and…everything else. you don’t have to do all that, you know.”
he turns his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. “I know,” he says simply. “but I want to.”
his words hang in the air, quieter and more vulnerable than usual, and for the first time, you see the full weight of what he’s been doing all along.
these small gestures, these little acts of kindness, have been his way of showing something he’s never been able to put into words.
weeks pass, and despite everything happening around you—missions, deadlines, late-night training—there’s a steady rhythm to the way shoto treats you.
he’s never one to speak loudly about his emotions, but the small things he does start to stand out in a way that feels undeniable.
there are days when you catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression slightly more intense than usual.
he doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his eyes linger a little longer than they should, as if he’s trying to figure something out.
he’s quiet around you, often lost in his thoughts, but when he speaks, it’s always with a softness that’s impossible to ignore.
it’s as if every word he says carries the weight of more than just friendship—though, he’ll never admit it outright.
it’s late one evening when the two of you find yourselves standing side by side in the agency’s common room.
the glow of the lights is soft, the building nearly empty after the day’s work. you’re both exhausted, but neither of you is quite ready to head home.
shoto hands you a fresh towel as you come out of the shower, his movements slow and deliberate. you notice how carefully he looks after even the smallest details:
making sure the towel’s warm and that the temperature in the room is just right.
you take it from him with a soft smile. “you’ve been really nice to me lately.”
shoto pauses, his eyes flicking to yours. there’s an emotion there you can’t quite place, something quiet and unspoken.
“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice steady. “I want to.”
the words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you charged with something that hasn’t been said aloud but feels clear all the same.
you’ve always known shoto in pieces—quiet, introspective, deeply caring in his own way—but this is different. this is more.
when you step closer, your heart thumping louder than it should, he doesn’t pull away.
instead, he looks down at you, his mismatched eyes soft with something that’s not quite a confession but feels like one all the same.
“I’ve always wanted to be there for you,” he adds quietly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I just…couldn’t figure out how.”
the quiet honesty of it leaves you breathless, and for a moment, you let the words come freely.
“you’re doing it, shoto,” you say. “you’ve been doing it.”
before either of you can say another word, the space between you seems to shrink of its own accord.
his gaze lingers on yours, and there’s a long moment of quiet before you close the small gap, your breath mingling with his.
his hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, and it’s the gentlest touch, but it sends a warmth through you that settles deep in your chest. without a word, he leans in.
and when his lips meet yours, it’s not forceful, nor is it rushed—it’s as natural as everything else that’s happened between you.
when you pull back, there’s a soft smile on his lips, a look of quiet satisfaction as he rests his forehead against yours.
Summary: When you go to the club with your friend Mina all you wanted was a fun night out. Never could you have imagined a lust drug getting slipped into your drink. Now you have a choice, risk death or have sex with your Pro Hero Ex
Word count: 10k+
Warnings/tags: Soft Dom Shoto, Praise, Explicit sexual content, Overstimulation, Oral sex (receiving), Use of Lust Potion, She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults, SMUT 18+ Only
TW: Reader is slipped a drug by a creepy date (Not Shoto) if this topic is triggering please avoid this story!
masterlist┃AO3
“No Mina, I don’t need to get back out there. Being in a relationship is exhausting, I am perfectly happy being single, in fact, I’ve never been happier.”
“I call bullshit,” She declared. “You have been moping around ever since you broke up with him. I mean look around, we are in a club filled to the brink with eligible singles and instead of flirting you are sitting at the bar drinking,” She lifted your glass to her nose and sniffed, “a sex on the beach.”
She gave you a look of disapproval, “you should be having sex on the beach right now. Instead for some god-forsaken reason, you break off the engagement and now you are sitting here with me in a bar. But sure, keep telling yourself that you are happy.”
“Mina!” You yell. “This conversation is over if you want me to even consider flirting with someone.”
She put her pink hands up in surrender, “Alright, alright, I concede. For now.”
You roll your eyes and mumble a quick, “Thank you.” There was no way you were ever going to have that conversation, let alone with Mina. You loved your friend, but she wasn’t exactly known for keeping her mouth shut.
“However, don’t think I am letting you off the hook for free. My silence comes with a price,” Her lips turned up into a devilish smirk.
▹ NOTE. second time’s the charm (word count: 2.8k)
▹ WARNING. pornstar!au, sex on camera, this is filthy, fingering, sloppy sex, ass play, anal, oral (fem receiving), etc, minors dni
▹ SUMMARY. recently famous model shouto todoroki turns pornstar for the chance to meet you
It’s a big house somewhere in Beverly Hills. It’s easy to rent larger mansions out here, and the building your crew had selected was famous for filming. The marble floors were heated. The kitchen was filled with energy giving fruits. And you were clad in nothing but your underwear, makeup crew gingerly touching up your face.
It would’ve been a perfectly normal scene had it not been for the handsome stranger next to you. Tall. Broad and well defined. Muscular. He smells nice. Something woodsy and wintery, but not overbearing in the slightest. He was also stripped down to his boxers as a member of the staff went over the rules with him.
He would’ve been another perfect addition to your mile long list of hottie conquests, had it not been for his two tone hair. White on one side, red on the other. Heterochromatic eyes. IcyHot.
One of the newest models in advertising clearly enjoying his ten seconds of fame. His two tone hair and eyes, handsome face and gorgeous body had girls all over the world fawning over him. His selling of the post workout heating coolant had given him a catchy nickname that stuck.
But the porn industry isn’t modeling. And it only meant one thing for you. You’d be working with an amateur today.
“Why are you even here?” You scoff once the crew member is done going over the rules with him and once he wanders aimlessly to your side. “Aren’t you big in advertising, IcyHot?”
His eyes stay politely fixed on your face, completely unfazed by the black set of lingerie you’re displayed in. “Yes, a lot of people really seemed to like the way I looked in that commercial.”
A beat of silence passes as he waits for someone to lightly spray you with perfume. Waiting for them to bounce away before replying. “A lot of people commented that they wanted to see me naked, but I’m really here because I want to fuck you.”
“What?” You falter. His face is expressionless, maybe a bit surprised with how you’re reacting. But you’ve heated up. Completely embarrassed and caught off guard and embarrassed about being caught off guard because the guy you’re about to have sex with just confessed that he wants to fuck you.
He chuckles then. Gives you an unexpectedly fond smile before the camera man is calling the two of you into the bedroom.
You hop beside him in bed and lean against the bed frame with the camera pointed right at you. The cameraman asks the two of you to state your names (which get bleeped out) and declare that you are both sober and willing participants.
The cameraman starts asking Todoroki a few casual questions. “This is our favorite model’s first time in a porno, right?” The tone is light and teasing, expectant of his gorgeous actor.
“Yes.”
Todoroki is icy with his reply. Doesn’t smile or return any of the energy the director gives him. Even sits with his hands in his lap while you stare at his face right beside him. Doesn’t he know this is the time to be getting warmed up?
The director laughs awkwardly and brings up Todoroki’s excited fans, and you giggle on queue, playing your part. To make up for Todoroki’s short comings, you stretch one bare leg out towards the camera, keep the other tucked beneath you as you turn your body towards the man and place a calculated hand on his thigh.
“Whoa, enough talk, huh?” He chuckles, “looks like she’s ready to go. You sure you can handle her, IcyHot?”
He turns to face you before he replies. Looks into your face, face soft though not giving anything away, and says Yes.
And though it’s the same short reply he gave the cameraman earlier, your cheeks are burning up. Breath caught in your lungs before the director asks that you start with a kiss.
He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck and pulls you close. Pulls you right to his lips, and kisses you. Hard. Moving in slow sync to your own as your hands explore his bare chest. Every ridge of his muscles, the dip of his collar bones, his arms. Hard as steel and gripping your jaw. Keeping you locked in place for when he slips his tongue in. And you let out a soft moan. He tastes good. He knows how to use it. And you grind in his lap as you imagine where else he’ll tease you with his tongue.
A curious hand wanders down his chest, to the waistband of his boxers before you grip him through the fabric. He’s hard, and he grunts with your grip. Bites your lip when you give him a teasing stroke.
And then he knocks you back.
You giggle up at him, at his massive form, watching as he takes your knees and spreads you open.
“Not so fast,” he runs his hands up and down your legs, “I wanna take my time with you,” and with a firm grip to your thighs, flips you onto your stomach effortlessly and roughly spanks your ass. “Ass up.”
You weren’t expecting the golden boy to be so rough, lifting your hips off the mattress with a smirk pressed into the sheets.
He rubs your ass cheeks and runs his hands down your spine. Unclasping your bra and slowly pulling the straps off your shoulders. Only finding the seam of your panties when a firm hand wraps around the back of your neck, keeping you pinned in place. With the fingers of his other hand at your hips, he slowly grinds into your ass. “Want me to take these off?”
Yes, you whisper, grinding back into him.
He chuckles. Low and deep. And it excites you deep in your stomach.
He uses both hands to slowly slide the fabric over your hips, over the globe of your ass, watching as a string of your arousal clings to the fabric and breaks as he pulls it away. And he moans as he ghosts two fingers over your entrance, hand coming away slick though you’ve barely been touched.
“Keep your back arched for me.”
It’s your only instruction before you feel his warm tongue on your cunt. Teasing, exploring your clit with the tip of his tongue before moving to your quivering entrance. Circling, before plunging in. Both hands on your ass cheeks spreading you wide for him, he gives heavy licks to your cunt before sucking on your clit. Rubbing his tongue against the sensitive nerve before pushing the pink muscle into your body.
You grind back against his face, mouth agape in mindless concentration. Chasing the points that feel best. Praying for him to suck on your clit again and coat his whole mouth with your taste. You’re sloppy and soaked by the time he sinks a finger in. Pumping it in and out of you roughly as his thumb ghosts over your clit. Forcing you to arch back into him for more, for it to go deeper, for more sensation, greedily sucking in everything he gives you.
His tongue finds the rim of your ass. Spreads his spit all over you. When he finds that your little hole is too tight, he moves his middle finger out of your cunt and collects your juices, spreading it up to your dirty hole and massaging in pleasurable circles.
He plays with your clit with his tongue. Switching from quick movements to fat licks, letting you ride his face until you feel it. The accumulation of his efforts, all bundling into a tall stack of cards, just a breath away from being blown down.
You’ve been moaning. You only just notice as your voice gets louder, a sound of surprise and pleasure escaping your lungs. And he knows it. Monitoring your every reaction. Every hip grind and back arch. And when he feels your body on the cusp of release, he pushes his finger past that ring of muscle.
“Ohhh…!” You gasp as you cum, body shaking as he fucks his finger into your ass. “Oh…” shivers run down your spine as your crest of pleasure bleeds into the next, a sudden, mindless rush of need forcing you to roughly bounce back on that finger. Cunt empty and desperately clenching against nothing.
Todoroki has the audacity to chuckle. “I knew you’d like that,” he kisses your back as his other hand comes around to play with your fluttering pussy. “I’ve watched your videos so many times…I always wanted to be the one to make you do that.”
You whine when he pulls his hands away. Relieved when you finally hear the crinkle of the condom wrapper.
“I don’t really have to use this, do I?” You hear his voice behind you. You lift your upper body off the mattress to turn to him to reply, only to see him directing the question at the cameraman.
“You’re good, it’s not in her contract.”
“Hmm?” You hum before your face is forced back into the mattress. He kisses the back of your head as he presses his hard dick against your ass. The excitement of almost getting stuffed emptying your mind from everything else.
“Good,” he moans into your ear as he coats his cock with your slick, “I want to fuck you raw.”
A dreamy moan is your only response, grinding back onto his dick as he lifts himself off your body to grab his shaft. Rubbing the mushroom head up and down your cunt. Teasing your entrance with just the head of his cock before wandering back down.
When he finally meets you at the entrance, he’s slow. So painfully slow. The pleasure blindingly mind numbing as he slowly starts to fill you up. You sink deeper into pleasure as you realize how terribly thick he is. Arching your back and spreading your legs even more as he consumes every inch of you, and reaching so deep you gasp. He’s in your stomach. The tiniest shake of your hips and you feel every inch of his girth deep inside you. You moan as you fist the sheets. Pant as he holds painfully still. And whimper when you feel his thumb roll over your puckered hole.
“God, I’ve wanted this for so long…” he moans as he slowly starts to pull out. Pulling out only half way before fucking back into you.
“Oh my god…” you gasp as he slowly begins to fuck you, rocking you back on his dick. Shouto puckers his lips to form a heavy glob of spit, letting it slowly fall to reach and land on your asshole. The air cold around your tight hole.
He picks up the pace. Starts fucking into you roughly, and your moans can only get louder, less controlled as he bounces you on his cock. Rubbing his wet thumb around your rim, he pushes in to get a better grip on your ass. Squeezing your asscheek as his finger wet with his spit pushes in deeper.
“Ohhh my goddd…!” You gasp, “ugh, shouto…!”
“Uh uh,” he pulls his hand away from your ass in favor of two fingers, stretching you out and curling them as he pauses on fucking you. Stretching you out as your body struggles to adjust to an empty cunt. “You only wanted to call me IcyHot earlier, remember?”
“I’m sorry,” you whine, “god, you feel so good…”
He spanks your ass with his free hand and smirks when you yelp. “I feel so good, what?”
“I can’t say it,” your voice is hardly a breathy moan as you try to negotiate. “I’m not saying it..”
He hums thoughtfully, rubbing his hardened dick against the cheek of your ass instead of giving you any more stimulation. “Do you really deserve my cock then?”
“No,” you whine in confession, bringing your own hand under your body to rub messy circles against your clit. “But maybe I don’t need it.”
In one fluid motion he flips you over again. Pinning your arms over your head as he hovers over you. In all your time with your face shoved against the mattress, you had forgotten how gorgeous he was. How truly handsome that jawline and piercing eyes made him.
“That’s not very nice.”
“Nice girls don’t do porn,” you smirked back at him.
He kissed you, hard, passionately, moving his lips desperately against yours. Slipping his tongue into your mouth and forcing your taste on you. The sweetness mingling with his spit to create an intoxicating combination before he’s grinding against you again, hips rutting into your own in heady eagerness.
“Fuck me,” you beg when he breaks the kiss to kiss down your neck. Sucking harsh spots into the flesh. “Please, I need it…”
His kisses trail down your neck between your breasts. Licking and sucking at your nipples. Squeezing your breast in even more stimulation. Your legs wrap around his waist tightly. They would rub together for the tiniest bit of relief if his body wasn’t in the way. So you squeeze around him, arms thrown over his shoulders, in a desperate plea to be fucked until Shouto’s own pants and moans betray him.
“Where?” He moans at another sinful roll of your hips.
“Anywhere, please, anywhere.”
He lifts your hips with two large hands and plants your thighs over his own. You’re soaking wet everywhere, and he’s still coated in all your slick from the grinding. With a hand on his cock, he curves over you to meet his lips to yours. Press into you in a soft kiss before pushing the head of his cock into your tight ass, forcing a gasp out of your lungs that he swallows into his own.
“Ugh, god you’re so tight…” he moans it like a prayer, eyebrows furrowed in desperate pleasure as he slides more and more of his length into your tight little hole.
“Ohmygodohmygod…” you pant out hurriedly, hips stuttering as your body plunges you into an unexpected orgasm. “Please don’t stop, pleaseplease” and you cum, body spasming underneath Shouto’s as the blissful wave sends you over the edge, tingling your every nerve as it spreads through your body.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” he moans, holding you tightly before shuddering in his own release. Pumping his cum into your ass with every deep thrust, coating your insides in overflowing hot cum as he breeds your ass like a bull. “Ugh,” he shakes as he finally stills, still plugging your ass to keep any more cum from leaking out. You can feel the excess dripping down onto the sheets below.
“Don’t think I’m done with you,” he pants as he glares at you with his mismatched eyes. “I’m not stopping until I’ve done that to both your holes.”
Your body shudders at his words, pussy fluttering around nothing, and you know you still need it too.
“Cut!” The director startles you from beside the bed. Shouto subconsciously covers your body with his own before remembering you’re both on display for the camera.
“Why don’t ya give us the money shot, IcyHot?” He chuckles.
Shouto reluctantly pulls back to allow for a full camera view. Your naked and lewd body on full display, blossoming hickeys and soaked skin zoomed in for the camera, and finally, your sloppy cunt destroyed by the gorgeous man himself. His cum oozing slowly out of your ass.
“Glazed her ass like a donut!” He chuckles before turning the camera back to shouto, putting his muscular body on display as well. “Great job, IcyHot!”
Some vile emotion snakes it’s way down Shouto’s throat. He’s not sure what he’s feeling. But he’s glaring at the cameraman. Unwilling to the hit the showers just yet.
“Wait,” your sultry voice reaches out to both the men. You’re still on your back, stretching slowly in blissed out relaxation. “We’re not done yet,” you smile up at Shouto, meeting his irritation with playful bedroom eyes. “Don’t you wanna see more?”
The director laughs and runs a hand through his thinning hair, “uh, yeah I wanna see more! If you two crazy kids got anything left in the tank. We’ll take a quick break, rehydrate and fuel up, and uh, if you two are willing, I got plenty more to shoot.”
You gingerly ease into sitting up, ignoring the inevitable wet spot that’ll be there on the bed once you get up. “That sounds good to me, what about you, IcyHot?”
Shouto smirks at the nickname. He’s been called it millions of times ever since that commercial, but somehow it feels that it’s found it’s rightful home on your tongue.
He rubs his thumb against your cheek as you sit on the edge of the bed looking up at him with ruined makeup. He still hasn’t stuffed your pretty face with his cock. There’s still so much that he has to do to you. “Yeah, quick break,” he resigns, resting the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip. “And then I’ll show you how to put that pretty mouth to good use.”
You know it's wrong, so wrong to enjoy the attention of a creep.
At least, that's what people call him. But through the snickers and sidelong glances that surround him, there's something about him that intrigues you, attracts you, something you can't seem to get out of your head.
It starts off small, letting him eye you from across the room and flashing him a small smile. Then you notice he starts to get bolder, more confident in his advances. As the days pass, his presence becomes a constant in your routine. He waits for you after class, catches you alone in elevators, leans in closer during conversations, and even starts to find excuses to touch your arm or shoulder. Each interaction feels like a challenge, a test of boundaries that seems he's all too willing to push.
In the beginning, you almost listen to the unease flickering in the back of your mind, warning that maybe you are playing with fire. But as the tension builds, you find your resolve slowly melting, small touches on your arm turn grazes against your ass and the quick glances evolve into him blatantly checking you out.
So only you can be blamed for the situation you're in right now. Only you can be blamed for letting it get like this.
His hips snapped so fast you can't think, you can breathe. Pleasure courses through your body in electric flesh arrows and you could feel your pussy clench around his length in a futile attempt to adjust for his massive size. How could a creep like him be so big? Jesus, you could feel his mushroom tip press against your cervix every time he slammed into you. Countless loads of cum dripped from where you two were connected onto the white sheets below. At any given time he'd blow his load right into you and without much of a stutter fuck the liquid back into you, until he reached his high again and started the cycle over again.
"Mine," he grunts out, his breath hot against your cheek from the brutal mating press he has you in. The bed shook with every thrust, the head board banging against the wall from the way your cervix was getting absolutely abused. The friction, the way he filled you up so perfectly, his hot skin against yours, it was too much, too overwhelming, and your brain couldn't handle the pleasure. You could feel the euphoria absorb your body, making your toes curl and uncurl from the sheer pleasure.
"G-gonna cum in you again" He says through a moan, peppering kissed along your jaw. "Gonna fill you up, make you feel so so good." He doesn’t slow his movement, instead picking up one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder so he can reach even deeper. He places his other hand on your belly, rubbing your skin with his thumb.
"You feel me?" He coos, pressing down on your stomach, intensifying the pressure of his cock inside you and making your moans grow even louder.
"I can feel you, I can feel you squeezing me, feel so good, better than my fist." He chuckles and grabs your throat, squeezing it so your brain goes fuzzy with the slight light of oxygen.
His breathing becomes jagged and with a soft whimper followed by a silent "oh-fu", he blows his load into your battered pussy. There is no warning when cums into you, only the slight stutter of his hips that does nothing to deter his brutal pace. You are soaked down there, his sticky cum leaking out of you as he pushes into you over and over again. But you couldn't be bothered to look right now, you couldn’t open your eyes and ignore the colors you were seeing behind your eyelids. Everything was good - so, so, so good. Your skin was buzzing, mind cloudy, and the only thing you could focus on was the throbbing that was taking over your body.
"You gonna cum?" He coos into your ear, punctuating his words with an extra sharp thrust. "Cum for me, please."
As if on cue, you gasp, and let your orgasm wash over you. He doesn't stop his movements, instead, he fucks you through your orgasm until your crying for him to stop.
"Not gonna stop, gonna fuck you until m' shooting blanks okay?"
SHIGARAKI, YUUTA OKKATSU, L LAWLIET, SHINSO, KENMA, GYUTARO
note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works + the synopsis for each fic belongs to the author who wrote the fic
kuroo tetsuro
taste test - kaientai
synopsis: when you taste the same thing as your soulmate, things get interesting
red all over - meldve
synopsis: you are trapped in an elevator with your work rival, kuroo. what else could go wrong?
your name - tsukisemi
synopsis: kuroo finds you really cute, too bad you keep giving him a fake name every time you come into the coffee shop he works at
public transit - orphan_account
synopsis: your heart pounded, knowing you were being touched, and he was watching you.
but when he loves me - sweetcandyliar
synopsis: there are so many ways that kuroo tells you he loves you.
somewhere only we know - wanderwithme (wanderlustt)
synopsis: four times kuroo proposes to you - and the last time he does
meeting the boys - orphan_account
synopsis: in which no one really believes kuroo could get a girlfriend as incredible as you
落葉 | rakuyou - deltachye
synopsis: maple leaves are most beautiful in which they have died, falling slowly, waiting patiently to be reborn
riverbank - itsleese
synopsis: you're reminded of the little boy you loved way back then, the riverbank you played at together. maybe you should go see it?
caring cats - haikyuu_philia
synopsis: nekoma is family
disrupted meetings - sansos
synopsis: dr. tetsurou kuroo’s research group has transitioned to hosting meetings online. what could go wrong?
cat ears - just__j
synopsis: kuroo approaches you, captain of the girls club, with a proposition of a bet for the losing captain
kozume kenma
change the channel - alkale
synopsis: "i want to buy your game from you"
kodzuken does not have a girlfriend - bunnytime
synopsis: it has been a running joke that kodzuken lies about having a girlfriend for years now. needless to say, his fanbase is convinced he doesn’t really have a girlfriend
second place - yourqueenhasarrived
synopsis: kenma forgets your anniversary and once again pushes you aside for his gaming career. how much can you take?
an inconvenient crush - the_only_iris
synopsis: kenma has had the biggest crush on twitch streamer, (y/n). what happens when their paths cross?
learning process - nomazee
synopsis: you and kenma always had an interesting dynamic. kuroo found it nice for everyone involved
thank you for being a friend! - heichoe
synopsis: ”if it helps: when you gave kuroo head in high school, he said it was great"
yaku morisuke
who dares speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak) - sunmoonstarsrain
synopsis: yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze
artists eyes - teapots_and_teacups
synopsis: yaku was used to being ignored on the court
if only i were selfish - this noodle writes
synopsis: yaku was anything but a selfish man, but being selfless had cost him you once before. so, when he gets the chance to see you again, will he finally be selfish enough to try?
note: as you can tell, i'm trying a different recommendations style- what do you think? do you think i should switch back to the first one or is this one better? would love to know your thoughts
Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.
— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader
— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au
— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch
— word count. 8.2k
— requested? no
— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))
Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.
You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.
For you, he was everything.
For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.
He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.
Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.
The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.
After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.
The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.
You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.
Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.
For his sake.
You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.
As a family.
Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.
Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.
Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.
A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.
You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.
You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white.
You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.
You didn’t know if he was alive.
The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes.
The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him.
You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.
Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.
Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret.
Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.
Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.
“Da… Dada…”
You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.
“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.
The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.
While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.
“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”
“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”
“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”
You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.
You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.
Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.
Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.
Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.
The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.
The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.
He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.
He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.
“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”
Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.
You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.
As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.
“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”
Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.
“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.
Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.
“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”
His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.
And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.
“Dada…!”
The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.
Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.
Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.
“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”
Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.
Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.
Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”
You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.
Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.
“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you.
The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.
He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.
His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.
When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.
“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is.
Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”
You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.
“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.
“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.
Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”
With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”
“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child. “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.
“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”
“Then why?” he breathes.
You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”
Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”
“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.
After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.
Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.
Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”
You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”
“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.
“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”
“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”
Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.
Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.
“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.
“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.
With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.
“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”
He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”
You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”
Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”
His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”
Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”
“Shoto—”
“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”
You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”
“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”
Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”
“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”
With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”
Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”
A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”
“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”
You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.
Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”
Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”
You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.
Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.
“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.
“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”
Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.
His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.
Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.
Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.
“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory.
You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.
A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements.
You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.
His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss.
“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently.
Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.
“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”
Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”
When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?
He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.
When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”
“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.
Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”
Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.
Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”
Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”
He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.”
Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply.
“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”
“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”
His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”
Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.
His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.
Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern.
Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”
You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows.
“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”
Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum.
Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.
“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.
You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.”
Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest.
Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.
Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”
He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.”
His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”
Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”
Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you.
Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”
Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”
His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.
His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you.
Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead.
“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”
Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.
“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”
“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”
You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”
Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.
Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”
Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”
Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”
You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.
A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.
todoroki shouto x f ! reader ᯓ★ m—dni. 1.1k words. established relationship / somno (initially) / morning wood / unprotected / in the morning <3 / not proofread
an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompts #1 “i had a very nice dream that started off just like this.” & #19 “did you just get bigger from that?” requested by an anon!
you never the one to take initiative. it was always your boyfriend who suddenly grabs you by the waist, under your shirt no less, and whispers that he wants to do it.
but it’s inevitable that when you’re apart, you end up being in the mood. which could be a quick fix to tell him to come over and jump you, but it wasn’t necessarily your style.
you knew it’s your own personality getting in the way. it felt hard to voice out to him. not necessarily because you’re intimidated by him, it’s mainly because cause your man literally has such a high sex drive that it’s scary—plus, you just didn’t know how to make it less embarrassing when he teases you even when it’s never on purpose.
besides, between the two of you, he was the sweeter and more affectionate one. very frank and straight o the point that leaves you in a puddle of emotions that you try to push through—exactly how he confessed to you. quick, easy, and heartfelt that definitely felt like a train wreck.
you think of the times whenever he initiated. somehow it was like second nature to him. that man has no shame and you shouldn’t as well as no one could be as shameless as shouto, but it’s still a bit hard.
you come up with a plan, you stay over at his place and in the morning you pray for morning wood to come and use it as a practice to start. it’s funny how you’re treating this like a mission of your own, infiltrating your opponent at their most ‘vulnerable.’ still, you already know he’d be into this.
to you, your shouto is a lot of things, but he is especially a pervert.
when you finally wake up, you see him in such a sweet state. lying fully on his back with his mouth slightly open. completely asleep with his arm on your back where you leaned on last night.
quietly, you pull away on the thick comforter and see his bulge underneath the pj’s that you matched with. immediately straddling his waist. he twitches slightly but continues to snore.
“hmm…” you’re pressing your clothed cunt against him. “h-hah…” you just wished he wakes up already so he could fuck you as soon as possible.
you grind harder, having your clit rub against the fabric. biting your bottom lip while you humped on him. it’s so thin you could almost feel the veins on his dick.
he fucked you so well last night your panties were soiled to no return. which was exactly what was happening to your pajamas, getting damp every time you moved.
“mmh…” shouto flutters his eyes open, getting such a nice view of you with your half-lidded eyes. “good morning.” he greets, already sitting up. you get startled for a bit already shy that you were so into it that you didn’t notice he was already awake.
“i’m really happy you waited for me to wake up.” he smiles, leaning on his elbows to get a better view.
“you were hard.” you stay with a little firmness. pushing him back down on the bed so his head rests on the soft pillows. he’s looking at you too intensely for someone who just woke up.
he chuckles in defeat, trying to get a better angle to see you a bit better. “that’s nice of you to help me out.”
“it’s not like i could shake you awake.
“no i need you to shake me next time.” he was dead serious too, typical shouto.
he pulls down the garter from your pajamas, exposing your cunt that’s already building up slick. “no panties?” he says as if so amused. you click you tongue, “you literally ruined them last night.” you motion your head towards the laundry bag hanging by the door. he chuckles, cupping your face, “ah i remember. i did a pretty good job.” he discards your pajamas and throws them on the floor in a swift motion.
you roll your eyes at him, already feeling the warmth that’s crept up to the apples of your cheeks.
“you know, i had a very nice dream that started off just like this.” he admits, sitting up to kiss you. you pull him closer. which definitely explained his hard on earlier. “you were so adorable in it too.”
“you were on top of me just like this, feeling so good riding me.” and he went on and on while he kissed your neck. telling you about his naughty and very graphic dream that’s even getting you a little breathless. “y-you’re such a damn perv.”
you yelp when you feel two of his fingers already curling up inside you. “so wet it slid right in, must feel nice.” he comments.
your shake your hips slightly, you needed more though. today you wanted to be greedy, and whatever consequence you have to endure (which is him definitely teasing you after) will be dealt with later on. you just needed him while the sun is prettily shining on his face.
“i don’t need that just put it in.”
“so greedy and impatient.” his tone is so coy, which pissed you off a little.
“h-hah… just greedy today.” he smiles to himself when you didn’t deny the impatient part. you’re such a mess that when you answer with your typical rebuttals it didn’t feel snarky at all, it just confirmed how cuter you get everyday for him.
“that’s okay baby just use me.” he says so soothingly.
shouto positions his tip at your entrance, and you waste no time by moving your hips to get him to bottom out. you’re already moaning at how perfect he fit right in. even when he gets to hold you, it always felt like the first time. he even felt getting weak at his own finger tips.
“mmph! fuck… y-you’re so big shou.” you ride him while he hands rested on your hips. his brows furrowed while you pick your movements. his mind is still trying to wake up, feeling your pussy clench down felt really dangerous. he’s just so sensitive right now.
you let out a breathy moan, feeling every inch of his cock that’s stretching you out. using him to hit your sweetest spots. sometimes it felt too good that you end up rambling away about how he makes you feel good, verbally expressing everything that goes in that pretty head of yours.
shouto gets weaker and weaker when you’re so honest like this, only finally waking up when you whispered under his ear a small, “i love you.” already in such a trance from bouncing on his dick. he hisses, cock twitching and getting harder from your affection.
you felt him hitting deeper inside you, “d-did you just get bigger from that?!”
he grunts, this time bucking his hips upwards meeting yours. seeing how your tits bounced up and down whining above him makes his cock ache. he wants to cum so bad. “you definitely have to wake me up like this from now on.”
“like h-hell i would! in your fucking dreams!”
do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works
note : in my head i thought reader to be a little bit rough and snarky to contrast a very sweet and patient shouto
bodyguard! shoto, who decided to use his training and skills for a different career path, because fuck endeavour, and because he still wanted to serve people out of the good in his heart.
bodyguard! shoto, who is a 5’9, young, muscular man whose quiet stance speaks volumes. who despite his aloofness, remains a true gentlemen. who stands on the outside of the sidewalk when he’s with you, and who perceptively takes note of any men who seem to be eyeing you with anything more or less than adoration.
bodyguard! shoto, who works hard to keep his strength and health. who you can sometimes find doing pushups in his room during his free time, or taking out pent up rage on his punching bag. you’d think he’s putting up a show for you, grey tank-top hugging his muscles while sweat drips from his forehead.
bodyguard! shoto, who deals with most grievances calmly. he’ll step in front of you, hands in his pockets shielding you from whatever asshole decides to give you any issues. he’ll first, tell them to get lost, letting his eyes do talking. who isn’t afraid to get physical, despite his aloof nature. who will never cross that line unless he absolutely has to, and unless your safety is on the line. who would take a bullet for you, or shield you with his body. once he’s ensured you’re safe, he’ll disappear for some time and come back with bruised knuckles, much like his brother… 🤍
bodyguard! shoto, who, after a few drinks, will open up. he’ll tell you about his past, about his family, and about how he feels for you. he’s well aware that it’s unprofessional, and is more than willing to see whatever consequences you have for him now that his secret is out. who is both surprised and unsurprised when you tell him you want to stay, an undeniable warm feeling in his chest.
bodyguard! shoto, who makes everyone else disappear when you look at him. who is yours to keep and yours to lose. who isn’t a bad guy, but is more than capable of doing bad things to you, pressing himself against your back while you put lipgloss on in front of the mirror. who waits for you to say its okay before pressing a kiss to your neck. who gets you alone, and wears your feelings for him like a necklace.
bodyguard! shoto, who lets you hold his feelings hostage. who makes all your gray days clear, protecting you not only from others but from yourself. who reminds you not to overwork yourself, tugging you away from your desk and into his arms. who’s got your heart, skipping even when he isn’t around.
bodyguard! shoto, who makes falling for him inevitable. who walks you to your bedroom one day, only for you to tug him by his tie and press your lips to his. who suddenly doesn’t care about who’s keeping score. you did a number on him, but honestly, who’s counting?
bodyguard! shoto, who is a sweet, gentle lover. whose hot breath tickles your ear when he firmly orders you to lift your arms, pulling your shirt off so he can see more of you. who feels his pants getting tighter, cock straining against his pants when he massages your breasts, drawing out those shallow gasps of pleasure from your lips.
bodyguard! shoto, who makes sure the door is locked for everything he’s about to do to you. who his sweet and gentle, until he isn’t. who roughly tugs your bottoms off, leaving a trail of bites and hickeys on your inner thigh, leading up to where you need him most. and he’s mean, making sure you feel his breath graze your pussy, trailing his tongue on the innermost corners of your thighs before finally lowering his head to eat you out.
bodyguard! shoto, who’ll hook your legs over his shoulders, looking up at you while he works his magic, thinking he could do this for hours. who is well aware of the way your thighs tremble, the way you tug his hair begging him to make you cum. but he’ll give it to you, right after dragging out your pleasure for as long as he can.
bodyguard! shoto, who takes your thighs and folds you in half, pressing your knees to your ears. his cock slides right into you perfectly, groaning about how tight you are and how good he’s gonna fuck you. who watches you with hazy, duel-coloured eyes, waiting for you to adjust to his size before thrusting.
bodyguard! shoto, who makes you cum again, and again, and again, all while showing no signs of backing down. who tries a little harder every time he feels you flutter and clench around him, neither of you wanting to stop. who decides taking this job was the best thing he’s ever done.
bodyguard! shoto, who laughs to himself seeing the ship edits fans make of you and him, knowing they’ve got it right.
Summary: You're a little nervous to become the Mrs. Grayson. Luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries.
Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings/tags: wedding, anxious reader, the batfam actually gets along, fluff!! (dick is my wife.)
If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡
the divider
Contrary to popular belief, Gotham isn't a complete eyesore.
Sure, it's no vacation spot, and it's probably not the ideal place to settle down. But there are beautiful parts within the grunge.
Your wedding planner had shown you multiple locations, from Napa to the Bahamas. Bruce had insisted cost was no problem.
But that wasn't what made you choose Gotham.
Your forearms rest on the polished stone-top railing that surrounds the rooftop of the nicest hotel in the city. Thirty-two floors, all rented out for you.
You look down at the tiny cars and people below. Your heart swoops.
Your heels are in one hand. The sun crests the horizon; soon, yellow will melt into buttery orange and pink. It’s the first sunset you knew. The only sunset you know. And it’s the same one you saw the first time you met your almost-husband.
You'd come up here so you wouldn't miss it. Just this one time.
“Found her!”
You jump as the roof access door opens. Damian and Duke walk out. Duke gives you a warm smile.
"Jesus, you guys," you say, hand on your chest. “Way to scare a girl.”
“Sorry. You look really nice,” Duke says, smoothing his bowtie.
Damian crosses his arms, clearly unimpressed.
“Frightening you is the least of our concerns. We thought you’d run. Which would be understandable, considering the family you’re marrying into, but Father spent a lot renting the hotel. Plus, Grayson would’ve been inconsolable, and extremely annoying.”
“Dude,” Duke says, elbowing Damian. “Chill out. It’s not like she was actually going to leave him at the altar.” He squints at you. “Were you?”
“No! I wasn’t going to leave him at the altar, oh my God.”
Damian nods. “Good." He taps his watch and speaks into it. "Grayson, our work is done. Come to the roof.”
Duke gives you a wave and they wordlessly leave the way they came. You sigh and start to slip your heels back on. There’s some whispering at the bottom of the stairs, and Damian shouts “no!” before it’s silent.
You have one heel on when Dick emerges.
He’s unfairly handsome in his tux, hair somehow both neat and tousled. He also has what looks to be Damian’s tie wrapped around his eyes. You step out of your heel, unsure.
"Hey, sweetheart," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to scare you."
"It’s okay, baby. Why are you blindfolded?"
"Bad luck to see the bride, duh."
You can't help your idiotic grin at that. "I think it'll be fine, Gray. You didn’t have to take his tie.”
"Maybe you haven't met my family; we're not known for our good luck streaks.”
"I'm madly in love with you,” you say, feeling gooey.
Dick beams, and you nearly forget about the sunset altogether.
"I'm madly in love with you too."
You kiss him and he blindly returns it, following your lips even after you step back. You cluck your tongue and nudge him away. He obeys, though not without sliding his hand onto your waist and tugging you away from the roof. You follow because he's such a worrier.
Dick reaches for your hand and squeezes.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. Sorry I disappeared. I didn’t know the calvary would be sent after me.”
“Yeah, uh…” Dick rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Again. I got worried.”
The guilt sinks its claws deeper. You frown and touch his cheek.
“I would never leave you at the altar, Dick.”
“I know! I know that. They’re idiots; don’t listen to ‘em, whatever they said."
You cup his face with both hands and kiss him again. He squeezes your wrists and you can feel the relief rolling off him in waves, as much as he tries to hide it.
“Was my absence noticeable?” you ask.
"Just to us. Don’t worry about it. The Wayne family are professional crowd entertainers."
"I take it Bruce is doing card tricks?"
"Yep,” Dick says. “He’s pretty good too. Might retire the suit."
You laugh. "Sorry I'm missing it."
"Trust me, you'll get your fill soon."
“We can go down now,” you offer, even though you’re still waiting for that sunset.
He shakes his head. “There’s no rush.”
You smile and rest your head on Dick's shoulder. He accepts you instantly and wraps his arm around your waist.
"You feel really beautiful," he says.
"Charmer."
"I'm serious!"
"I know. That's why I'm so damn sweet on you, Gray."
"I've got a shot with you, then?" he asks.
"Oh, big time."
He nuzzles your neck. You breathe in his scent: wine from earlier, detergent, the hair gel he uses to effortlessly capture the bed head look.
"We didn't have to do this today, you know,” he says, voice vibrating through you.
You pick your head up in alarm.
"What're you talking about?"
"If-if you're getting cold feet, I mean," he adds. "Second thoughts. We can always reschedule."
"Dick, no, I'm not getting second thoughts. I want to marry you today. I will marry you, okay? We've been together for almost four years."
"So? You know how long Batman and Catwoman have been skirting around each other? We've all got a wager going. Including Alfred!"
You snort. "Okay, well, excuse me if I don't want your family to bet on how long it's going to take us to marry."
"Afraid that ship's sailed."
"Of course it has."
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in. His arms drape over your hips. You trace the shape of his lips with your index, up his Cupid's bow and up the tip of his nose. Dick has such a lovely nose. You've always thought so.
“So who bet that I’d actually made a run for it?”
“That feels like a trick question,” he says.
“Jason?"
“Jason adores you, actually. He didn’t doubt your loyalty once.”
“Damian had his doubts."
“Damian's thirteen, he doesn’t know shit.”
You snort and kiss his cheek. “Well, I forgive him. He was protecting you, that’s all.”
"If it helps, everyone else was certain of your loyalty," Dick says, letting you paw at his face. “Myself included.”
"That does help, actually.”
Dick stops your hand in its journey and rests your palm on his cheek.
"What were you thinking about?" he asks quietly.
You stiffen a little. "Nothing. Just needed some air."
"You sure?"
You know what he's doing: feeling your pulse to see if it changes, listening to your breathing, watching if your shoulders tense. He's a detective first, and a damn good one.
You slump in defeat.
"What if I'm not… good at this? At being… us?”
"What?" Dick asks in disbelief. "What are you talking about? Of course you’ll be good at it. The real worry is me, babe. I mean, you're incredible. I'm the one who runs around in spandex at night."
"Gray, I'm serious," you say, resting your head on his heart. "All those people who’ve been watching us, waiting for the future Mrs. Grayson to slip up. I just—I can't help but wonder if it's prophetic. I wonder if maybe you deserve more."
"Hey. Now I can't predict the future. But even if I could, I don't believe there is a timeline out there where I could ever want or need anyone but you. And you're not alone in this, you know? I'm scared too. I'm terrified I'm putting you in danger. Of fucking up completely. But I also know that sometimes… we get good things, you know? It's not all doom and gloom. I mean, you being in my life is proof of that."
God, he always knows how to make your heart ache just right.
"I really want us to work," you whisper, clutching his suit coat. "I just don't wanna let you down, Gray."
"Baby," Dick says, curling around you. "Sweetheart, where did this come from? What makes you think that? You've never let me down, not once. I love you. It's okay if you feel like you don't know what you're doing, 'cause I don't know either."
You reach to untie the tie. Dick lightly grabs your hand, but you continue to tug anyway.
"Wait, babe—"
"Dick, it's okay. I want to see your eyes. Please?"
He lets you pull it off. He squints at the light, adjusting. Then his gaze drops to you and his lips part.
"Wow," Dick says, hands sliding up your arms.
You smile. "Like it? Selina helped me pick the dress, so it's all thanks to her."
"Fuck, baby. I wanna marry you right now. Screw everyone down there. Let's elope."
You laugh, combing back his hair with your fingertips and tucking loose strands behind his ears.
"Gray, you know we can't do that. What about Bruce? He'd be devastated and more than rightfully pissed."
He shrugs. "So what? I'm the favorite, I can get away with it."
"Well, what about Alfred? You'd break his heart."
Dick pauses, mulling that over. You kiss his chin.
"Damn it," he says. "You're right. I couldn't do that to him. He's arguably more excited about our wedding than we are."
"Mmhm. But I appreciate your attempt to be spontaneously romantic," you say, smiling.
Dick tugs you closer still, rubbing your back.
"I would elope," he says. "If you really wanted to. You could convince me to do just about anything. Even if it unleashed Alfie's wrath."
"Don't tell me that," you chide playfully. "You'll give a girl all sorts of notions."
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
Dick starts to kiss up your neck and you happily let him, eyes slipping closed. It's good, until—
THUMP!
You jump. Dick immediately pushes you behind him.
The roof access door swings out so hard it slams against the wall. Jason glares, bowtie already loosened.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You're gonna miss your own wedding, dumbass!" He nods at you. "Hey, future sis. Looking good."
"Thanks, Todd."
"Mm. Everything okay?"
You smile. "Everything's wonderful."
"Yeah, I'm okay too, thanks," Dick says, scowling.
"I know you're fine, idiot. Now come put a ring on it before Alfred hunts you down himself."
Jason turns on his heel, shaking his head. "Responsible one, my ass…"
You look at Dick, grinning.
"Seems like we should go do the marriage thing," you say.
"Seems like." He squeezes your hip. "Do you feel better?"
"Yeah, Gray. I do. Thanks. I love you."
"Love you too, baby. Let's go marry the hell out of each other."
The sunset has morphed into a violet night. But you don't mind that you missed it; you know there will be countless sunsets to come.
male manipulator 🤩, dumbification, brief choking, poorly proofread, author’s note at the end :)
fratboy!dick grayson, a man of many… talents. one of which, turning off that pretty head of yours. “you need a break,” he argues with a sly hand in your knee. “a detox, or a detour- whatever you wanna call it.” the charm is almost painful, yet it still scares you that this is what your girlfriends fall for; the guy that’s just looking out for you, regardless of how whorish he gets at those frat parties.
“I don’t need you to tell me that, grayson.” your hand swats and easily dismisses him, spiky because you’d rather die under your stress than succumb to the disease that is dick grayson. you’re absolutely positive you can see through the lousy attempts of looking at you as if he actually cares. he’s just another fratrat trying to get his dick wet, and your pride won’t allow it.
fratboy!dick grayson, who makes you lose your resolve with just a few favors and treats. interacting with every post, listening intently so he can get those notes you missed from tuesday, speaking in like a proper man whenever you pass by, all so he can fuck you like he’s doing you a favor.
fratboy!dick grayson goes so far he spoils you, pays for the more expensive take-out and pays for your nails every now and then, lets you catch rides so often that a few of his brothers call you his passenger princess- fucking hell, your pride’s out of the question at this point. at first, you decline and decline and decline, but in your slumps, you have to convince yourself it’s playing smart to pretend you’ve fallen victim.
fratboy!dick grayson, who’d catch you on a particularly rough spot in the semester. you’re stressed, snippy, and every type of frustrated, making his goal seem closer by the day. just a couple of well thought words and good points of how hard you work for yourself to sweet talk you into a hook up, and you hate yourself because it was fucking worth it. that mother fucker made you forget about all the assignments, the studying, the upcoming finales, everything except him and his cock twisting up your insides.
“you need this, don’t you?” he’d encourage out of an attempt to keep you from backing out, watching the way your eyes roll just from his hand down your panties. gentle circles around your clit make you gasp just before he delves deeper and he huffs, almost in disbelief at how wet you are. “you’re too pretty to be stressing as much as you do,” he’d mutter against warm skin, open mouthed kisses in place of hickeys he can’t litter across your collarbone until he’s got you too sex dazed to stop him from doing so.
fratboy!dick grayson, who still spoils you, spending generous time groping through your bra before sliding it off when you unclasp the back. knuckles deep inside of you and sucking at your tits as he massages the other, guiding your body closer to his while he murmurs through pleased hums at your sudden eagerness. because he’s doing this for you, remember? your pleasure is his, and he proves it by kissing between your tits and down your tummy until he reaches that sweet cunt he’d been so patient- no, so good to you for.
fratboy!dick grayson who guides your hands to a mess of black hair as he indulges himself, thumb replaced with his lips and tongue to slick up the bundle of nerves and sucking to elicit a startled moan. still deep inside of you, his fingers gain a certain intensity that has you bucking into his face and tugging on his hair until a little moan slips out against your heat.
“right there, yeah?” he checks in after a weak cry of his name falls from your lips, and he’s pleased to have finally abandoned the formality of grayson for the sliver of intimacy he gets from your breathy moans of oh my god- dick— so similar to the moans he’s drawn out of much easier women, but yours feels like a well earned award. “so fuckin’ wet already,” dick groans as he spreads you open, pussy lips already tainted with his saliva and he blows on your clit, just to make you flinch.
fratboy!dick grayson, who makes you cum on his fingers and tongue twice in quick succession before slipping them into his mouth, putting on a little show so you can really see the way his tongue worked those two blissful moments out of you. he gives a low suggestion that you should hav a taste, though the idea’s forgotten when the tip of his cock slots between your thighs.
“such a good girl, huh?” he taunts rather than praises, fucking you deep into the mattress with a firm but gentle hand around your neck to test the waters. your hand clings to his wrist as you whine, unintentionally communicating your need for a harder grip that he’s more than happy to apply. “smart girl just needed that pretty little head turned off for a bit- that’s all, isn’t it?” your legs tremble when you weakly nod, whining and babbling about how good he’s been to you.
“I know, baby,” he assures you when you cry for him again, lowering his head into the crook of your neck. “talk to me- what’s that empty head thinkin’ about now, huh?” dick asks, but coherent words have been lost between pathetic whimpers and loud keens as he sucks at your neck. if you were any ounce of sane right now, he’d have a black eye, but he’s doing you so much more than a favor. it’d be terribly rude to repay him in such a way.
fratboy!dick grayson’s had you cum on his cock at least once before he’s twisting body body around, seemingly forgetting to pull out as he lays you on your tummy and slinks your ass up into his pelvis. dick lingers at the sight- pretty arched back and two supple mounds of your flesh as your drool soils his pillows. by now, you’re so out of it that you feel he’s lingered a bit too long; instinctively, you sway and roll your hips back into him for stimulation. a long whistle follows a guttural groan before his hands fuck you back against his cock, rocking your ass up and down with lewd plaps of wet skin against his.
“feels good, dick-“ you slur into pillows like a used up slut, “‘s so good, fuckin’ me so deep- thank you, thank fuck…” sparkly nails—the same ones he’d bought you—claw at sheets as you go on, biting into your arm a little when he gets rougher.
“cum for me one more time, pretty thing,” he urges, ego dwelling from the pathetic and dumb babbling he’s fucked out of you. pulling your hair to force your arch impossibly deeper, he puts in more work for the last few thrusts, moaning with you as you clamp around his cock and scream into the sheets. “goddamn- can’t even hear me, can you?” distantly, you put together that he’s laughing at you as he fucks you through arguably the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, and your cries become silent from euphoria.
fratboy!dick grayson, who sprays his cum all over your ass with a long curse, cock resting between your asscheeks with a few lazy thrusts as white dribbles from tip and leaks to the dip in your back.
fratboy!dick grayson, who leaves you hanging on to your consciousness by a thread as he flips you back over, holding your jaw and squishing your rosy cheeks for that humiliatingly cute and fucked out face he’s plastered onto you. “you still with me, right?” he grins at the weak whines you manage, “or did I fuck your brains out already?”
fratboy!dick grayson, who sneaks his phone out for a quick flick, taking after his best friend just to keep himself a souvenir in case you decide he’ll never get this lucky again. ❧
a/n ;; first off, thank you for reading, i hope it’s up to parr. second off, thank you SO much for 1k hello,?:!,!? that is a crazy ass number compared to my last blog. you all are so engaging and i appreciate all the love so much, so I thought i’d write something that’s a bit new (and longer lmao) but still very much in my realm of writing. fratboy!dick grayson lingers in the back of my mind 24/7, yall dont understand. i’m ranting but anyway, thank you again <333333
jacobvanloon
2087
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
janainaart
romaincrisis
origamiaround
titsay
