CLAYMORESHAZE

izuku has an annoying tendency to know what you need before you need it. a bath with lavender oil and candlelight upon return from a three day business trip out of city helping with company interviews — one you had no say on going to. a home-cooked meal because you didn’t have a chance to grab lunch between meetings, although pork katsudon is all he’s good for ( he’ll call kacchan for recipes and cooking advice once you tire of his own skill set). a new work bag because the one you’ve had since starting busted at the strap on the way home, your new one just so happens to be designer because the leather is stronger.

he does it all with a kiss pressed to your cheek and a smile that causes a crinkle at the corner of his eyes — sickly sweet and sticky against you but you tell him thank you all the same and he tells you anything, always. in response. you’re spoiled rotten to the point of feeling suffocated but it’s good, so good, to be swept off your feet for a little while.

izuku is a great listener too. you’ll come home from your job where they don’t pay you enough pennies to give a fuck, designer purse now abandoned on the sideboard by the counter with your keys, heels clicking angrily and izuku will be there ready to hear you out. take your mind off things for a little while.

“you’re frowning, sweet girl, what’s wrong?”

then he’s on his knees, crisp white blouse taut against his chest and tie loose, as he slips your heels off one by one accompanied by angel’s kisses. he lets you curse and vent, spill foul secrets about your coworker who keeps taking credit for your work and your boss who demands too much in too little time all while nodding with bouncing ever-green curls brushing against the inside of your thighs and up your itty bitty pencil skirt.

you ramble on and on, your nails taking through his curls as he descends down on your centre. lips hot on your panties, teething at the fabric that’s already wet and has been since he first sunk to his knees before you — placing you at epicentre of his entire universe. izuku nods at the same time he kisses your clit, agreement in the form of sucking the slick from you as if you’re the only source of life for a thousand miles.

“and god, zu — she stole that client from right u-under my nose!” you’re scowling but your body melts into him below, your hips buck over his nose and he thinks for a second he could die here, happy and unable to breathe if it meant drowning in the deliciousness of your cunt. you’re sweeter when you’re pissed off, when you use him to ease the tension wound tight in your shoulders. izuku is desperate for you to use him, need him, he prefers life this way.

“mhm…” he says, or groans, or sighs blissfully like he’s really listening to you. focused on the tale of how that petty girl at your petty job keeps taking the credit. hed take care of that too, if you let him — call them up and say hero deku had a complaint to make. he settles for this, the now, the exact moment you clench around the thickness of his tongue as it thrusts far enough along your slippery walls to make your body shake. maybe it’s selfish off him, that izuku waits for you to get all riled up at work so that you come home to him like this. broiling under the flesh, smelling like sex that stirs his appetite into something more sinister.

when you hug the back of his head to your weeping slit, izuku purrs as though he’s been rewarded. his tongue does a sweet of the entire length of your cunt, gathers what you drool in viscous waves and smelts his spit into the molten mix, frothy cream gathering just around your hole and clit. messy, greedy, filthy but he doesn’t let up even when his chin is painted with a varnish of arousal.

he doesn’t mind being your crutch or your tool to pass a bad day by, as long as you’re above him like this — toes digging into his shoulders, fist tight in his hair, . “a-and seriously, zu. f-fuck, fuck that girl. fuck. i’m gonna cum!” you squeak shakily and he knows the job is done. you’re happy and you’re distracted, babbling god knows what about who knows what but the anger once built up inside you snaps like an easy spring. your orgasm is melt in the mouth, a piece of heaven created just for izuku to indulge in.

perhaps it is weird and perverted that he loves to be used and to use his skill on you… but you like it and maybe that makes you a little perverted too.

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

you peer at him over your book. you sigh a little. it’s hot out today, so he’s in a white vest and these navy shorts. biceps golden and thick. thighs thick and golden. he’s perched his black designer sunglasses to the top of his head which only pushes all of his hair back with it. he’s devastatingly gorgeous. his forehead, pretty nose and pouty lips. he’s frowning at whatever he’s reading, leaning his elbows onto his knees so he can get to typing. a huff at the end.

“is that the berry blast? i was thinking of getting that one?”

you look towards the voice, landing on a handsome guy standing on the opposite side of your table. he’s just walked in, also dressed for the weather with his cap, basic white shirt and shorts.

you’re still unsure if he was talking to you and you see bakugou, out of the corner of your eye, look up to the man.

“is it nice?” he repeats. the man is slightly shy, scratching the back of his head. he’s clearly nervous now he’s got your attention as he shuffles from foot to foot. keeps crossing his arms then lets go. you can tell he’s around your age and he’s not not your type. but also you’re not sure if he’s flirting with you or not. can he not see your boyfriend right there?

“oh, yeah it is. it’s my first time trying it,” you reply dryly, pressing your thumb in between the pages of your book so you don’t lose your spot.

the man’s eyes light up at your response and now bakugou looks at him directly. is this random man flirting with his girlfriend in front of him? is he invisible? does he look like a fucking dickhead?

the man nods in response to you, paying bakugou no mind. he’s so enamoured by you he doesn’t feel the boiling confusion brewing beside you.

“ah cool. i think i’ll give it a try,” he sniffs, looking at your book, then your dress. you can see him figuring out what to comment on next.

bakugou adjusts his posture. leans back in his seat, spreads his legs and holds up his smoothie.

“this green shit is good too. you should give it a try,” katsuki pushes and as if the guy is just finding out he’s there, he rapidly nods his head. looking from you to bakugou and trying to bring the conversation back to you and him.

“right, thanks man.”

then he’s looking back at you, giving you all his attention completely. 

you hear bakugou swear under his breath. it all makes you want to laugh at his expense.

“i came in here and i had to talk to you, i thought you were gorgeous. i love the dress,” he rushes, “i was wondering if i could get your number or insta?”

you give him a sweet smile, shaking your head lightly. you point your thumb in the direction of bakugou, “that’s my boyfriend. sorry.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows at the man, holding up his hand with a sarcastic wave.

“i don’t let her give her number to men that want to date her.”

you giggle at your boyfriend’s stupidity, your first giggle of the day actually and it causes the corner of bakugou’s lips to quiver with the urge to smile.

though looking back at your new admirer, you both slowly see the light drain from his eyes. his shoulders slump next. he’s obvious in the way he stares at bakugou’s arms and he blinks as if he might recognise him from somewhere.

“oh shit… i didn’t think… loads of people on this table and i thought everyone was sitting alone. fuck, sorry guys.”

bakugou’s gritting his teeth, “no fuckin’ social awareness.”

you kick his foot under the table, “no it’s okay, thank you though!”

once the man apologises again, spinning around to leave the shop completely, bakugou has already dragged your chair beside his, metal chair legs clacking together. he shoves his phone in his pocket and takes your hand with his now free one.

you giggle at the touch. there’s no way anyone doesn’t think you’re a couple now. in fact, you get a few stares from the other smoothie drinkers on the table.

“i’m sorry for the shit earlier,” he blurts, “i’m not all over you for a minute and someone already tries to take you from me. what the actual fuck?”

bakugou huffs to himself, practically trying to pull you to sit onto his lap so nobody can mistake what you are to each other. what else does he need to do? tattoo you on his arm? he’s already done that actually. your eyes, your name, your birth flower.

“i’m sorry too but we were seated far apart, doing separate things and not talking.” you grin at him and he just looks at your lips. it’s been far too long since he’s kissed them. “fair assessment i think.”

“‘course you think that. gonna stamp my name on your forehead,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your lips. 

bakugou’s not one for pda, but it’s needed when people are trying to drag you from under his nose.

“this should keep you on your toes. remind you that everyone wants me,” you joke but bakugou blinks at you. looks at you then looks away. 

he agrees, in fact, it makes him sit up straight and kiss you on your mouth again, in the middle of this random smoothie shop.

“i said i was sorry,” he huffs, holding your hand to his waist. “wanna try mine?”

you nod, “i’ve been waiting for you to ask!”

you put the straw to your smoothie by his lips so he can try yours.

“yours is better than mine,” you whine and bakugou chuckles.

“wanna swap?”

“you sure?”

“y’know i don’t mind.”

you take bakugou’s green smoothie while he holds your pink one. you eye his throat as he tajes three big gulps, the smoothie sinking away faster than your previous sips.

“thanks for buying them, ‘ki.”

bakugou smiles at you, gold tooth shining in the sunlight pouring through the windows. “i wouldn’t have heard the end of it if i let you pay while we were fightin’.”

you huff, “we weren’t fighting! it was a disagreement in communication styles.”

“yeah, we had a fight about that,” then he looks at your outfit with warm eyes, ones you welcome, unlike the random guy before. “your dress is pretty, baby. you look pretty today. i didn’t say that before.”

“thank you. you look sexy, always do.”

you swipe his sunglasses off his head, plopping them onto your face. 

“you’re gonna have to give them back when we get outside,” he tells you but he can’t help his grin, now unable to see your eyes.

“i forgot mine because you were rushing me!” 

bakugou rolls his eyes, albeit playfully. “look in your bag.”

“i didn’t put them in here,” you say but still you do. you unzip and pull it open, dipping your hand in and immediately frowning, “did you put them in here or am i going crazy?”

“you’re goin’ crazy,” bakugou stands up, brushing off his shorts and reaching for your hand. you stay seated in his sunglasses, your designer ones he bought you for your birthday in your hands.

“katsuki!”

“you’re not crazy, i put them in there when you were shoutin’ that you didn’t wanna go out with me anymore,” he nudges his head in the direction of the door, “let’s go, ‘wanna walk in the park.”

“you’re so annoying,” you tell him but you love it when he interlinks his fingers with yours, letting you walk out the shop first, smoothie in hand.

“love you too. now pass my glasses.”

ꉂ ᵎᵎ original a/n: for those who don't play marvel rivals, you need to level up your account to a certain level before you're allowed in comp, and depending on whatever rank eijirou and you are, there is a possibility that katsuki has to grind by himself until he can play with you guys... it's an act of service <3

“not to interrupt your daydreaming about me,” you jumped at her voice, startled. she smiled down at you, “i know i’m blind, but i’m not stupid. i can pick up on your silence and your heartbeat enough to understand you’re staring at me. plus, it’s what most of you sighted people do the first time you meet a blind person. kinda rude if i do say myself, and really repetitive.”

you blushed a deep shade of red, torn between shame and denial, “i—i wasn’t—”

“aw,” she cooed, rocking you in her arms like a baby, “you totally weren’t. i believe you, jingle bells.”

you groaned, squirming in her grasp, “you’re so annoying!”

“and you’re a shameless pervert.”

“p-pervert!?” your eyes widened, indignantly glaring up at her, “don’t try to flip this on me! i was just looking at your face, that’s not perv—”

“ah-ha!” she snickered, giving you a bounce in her arms, “now you admit you were looking. wow, i think you’re the worst liar i’ve ever seen. and i can’t even see!”

medically speaking, you could feel all the symptoms of a fucking brain aneurysm setting in throughout this conversation.

“you— you— you’re so— ugh! whatever!” you huffed in defeat, dropping your head on her shoulder, giving up on ever properly speaking to this woman.

she chuckled, hand flexing around your thigh, “i’m so what? so pretty, apparently, from how you spent the last five minutes drooling over me. am i reaaally that gorgeous? ouch!”

you pinched her torso, lifting your head to glare at her again, “you’re so insufferable. i’ve never met anybody who has made me want to end my life this much in the span of an hour.”

“oh stop it,” she fake moaned, the proudest of smiles on her face, “you’re turning me on.”

“i’m gonna— ugh! you know what? whatever!” you scoffed, cheeks flushed, taking your arms off her neck to cross them over your chest, “i’m not even gonna reply to you anymore. silence is the best answer to a dumbass.”

she hummed happily, “well actually, the saying is ‘silence is the best reply to a fool.’”

“does anybody like being around you?”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

even though you were only a street away, the walk felt like hours, your sanity hanging by a string as thin as your thong.

you let out the biggest relieved sigh when the bakery’s sign finally came in full view, your building door close to it.

“just here,” you tap her arm for her to stop, “i live here, thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” she lowers you down, and you reluctantly miss the warmth of her thick arms around you. but if it came with the price of her unending quips, you were ready to sleep on an iceberg instead. camp there, even.

your good foot touches the ground first, your hand on her shoulder for balance. you tentatively try to take a step with your injured one, but the loud wail slipping out of your lips is enough for her to tug you back to her side again.

“small steps,” she pats your hip, “your ligament probably tore a bit. hopefully nothing bad, but you should still get it checked out properly later, or tomorrow.”

you sigh, irritated, “you’re right. ugh, i’m never wearing those heels again. how am i gonna go up all these stairs now?”

she returns your sigh, “right? if only there was somebody around who could carry you. it’d be great if they could magically spawn right now. one can only dream. if only..”

you roll your eyes, exasperated, “did nobody teach you how to speak? you can’t even offer help without your stupid sarcasm?”

“nevermind,” she lets go of you, and you squeal, having nothing to hold onto, plopping back down on your butt. she folds her arms behind her head, uninterested, “i don’t feel like helping a bitchy little thing like you.”

“are you seriously—”

“ah, sorry,” she rubbed her ear, smiling down at you, “i can’t hear bitch.”

you scoffed, baffled, “fuck you, then! fuck you, and fuck your help. you’re so rude. i’m not gonna beg you to pick me up. you can go fuck yourself.”

“sure then,” she shrugged, turning on her heel, and you felt panic seize your heart. there was nobody else around here! how long would you have to wait before someone else passes by to give you a hand?? your only option left was to crawl your way to the bakery you went to every morning, humiliating yourself in front of the staff who saw you everyday.. no way.

“w-wait!” the word leaves your mouth before you can even think, and you could just tell she had the biggest grin on her face even though her back was facing you.

she stopped in her tracks, and you felt heat flood your cheeks with embarrassment.

“mhm? want something?”

your fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, looking down, “i.. i want you to.. pick me up again..”

“can’t hear you,” she walks back over to you, practically beaming, as she leans down to your height. “sorry, my hearing’s bad. could you speak up?”

what a bitch. she was blind, hearing was her strongest fucking sense. you had to bite your lip to refrain from cussing out her entire bloodline, only your earlier gratitude and current need were holding you back.

“i.. i said, i want you to pick me up again.”

she was all up in your face now, only a few inches separating you. she hums pensively, “hm, doesn’t sound like begging to me.”

your nails dig into your thighs through your clothes, the veins bulging out as you swallow your pride. “please, carry me.”

“my name’s toph,” she says it casually, like this was the best timing to exchange names. she grins, toying with a strand of your hair, “now say it all pretty for me. something like ‘oh, pretty please, beautiful toph. could you carry little ole me? please, toph, you’re the only one who can help me. i’m so helpless.’ “

the singy song lilt in her voice as she mocked you made your anger boil over. you grabbed her by her tank top, pulling her flush against you, your foreheads bumping.

you glared daggers into her, torn between slapping her or biting her smirk off, but she only tilted her head, smug as ever, “so? what will it be? i don’t have all day.”

“.. please, toph.” you grudgingly mumble, deciding to set your violent urges to the side until you were in a better position to backtalk her. “will you please carry me?”

she chuckles, and just like that, you’re back in her arms in seconds. “attagirl,” she croons down at you, “that wasn’t so hard now, was it? good job, jingle bells. i’m so proud of you. now, say ‘i’m your little bitch’.”

“don’t push it.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

she mercifully stays quiet as she takes you up to your floor. seriously, what were you thinking, renting an apartment on the fourth floor with no elevator available? you should’ve considered potential foot injuries, earthquakes, so many other things.. but oh well, the price and the view were good to pass up for a broke university student like you, and it honestly felt like an extension of you at this point, with all the years and money you spent decorating it.

when you finally make it, she gently sets you down on your good leg, holding you steady with one hand as you search for your house keys in your bag. you steal a brief glance at her, and despite her snappy attitude and how insanely annoying she was, you weren’t above common courtesy. after all, she did just carry you from your bus stop to your house. you could give credit where it was due.

you clear your throat, opening the door, “you can come in for a cup of tea, if you want. as a thank you.”

that earns you a soft squeeze on the hip. “i didn’t know you were into one night stands, jingle bells. but i wouldn’t say no to that.”

“nevermind,” you scoff, hand on the wall to support you as you make your way in ahead of her.

“don’t be like that. i’m just pulling your leg. well, clearly not your busted one.”

you completely ignore her, hearing the door shut behind her, before an appreciative whistle leaves her lips. “wow, you have a great apartment. it looks really gorgeous.”

you instantly perk up at that, buttered up in a second — you prided yourself on your taste, so compliments about it were your favourite, whether that be your taste in clothes, accessories, even your furniture. you turn to face her, excited. “ah, thank you so— ..”

you trail off, watching her bite back a laugh, confused. it takes you a second before the realization dawns on you. this asshole.

“tophhhh!! i hate you so fucking much!” you throw the nearest pillow at her, fuming, and she bursts out laughing, arms clutching her stomach as she doubles over.

she repeats your words, choking on her own giggles, “ ‘t-thank you so—’ ”

“get out!” you yell, the sound coming out all girlish and squeaky, flushed with embarrassment as you send a barrage of pillows her way.

the sight of her so exhilarated — literally rolling on the floor, her porcelain skin now a deep shade of red, unable to even properly speak through her laughter — eventually wore you down. you cracked a smile, your throws not stopping.

“s-shut up already!” you huffed out a small laugh, picking up the pillows that bunched up around her feet to hit her with them when your stock ended, “you’re the worst.”

she didn’t even bother protecting herself, flat on her back as she kicked her legs, and you joined in on her laughter too, giving her one last hit to the head before plopping down on her yourself.

“stop laughing!” you ordered, even though you were just as tickled, pinching her cheeks and stretching them out.

after a few minutes, your cackling finally subsided, leaving you both panting. you were still straddling her, her face marked by your long nails digging into her skin from your onslaught, as you tried to catch your breaths.

you flick her forehead, smiling down at her, “you’re not funny. you’re terrible, you don’t deserve my tea.”

“oh no,” her hands slide up to rub your hips, “not the tea.”

“but seriously though. thank you,” you brush away the mussy strands on her face, sweaty from all the movement, “you’re a cunt, but i do appreciate you going out of your way to help me out. so, thank you for that.”

“you’re so sappy, jingle bells.”

“you won’t get a reaction out of me. accept my thanks first.”

“i do.” she sighs, giving you a break, “you’re welcome, then.”

“good. i’m glad we’re on the same page.”

..

“.. also, toph?”

“mhm?”

“you do know that i can feel you groping my ass, right?”

she hums, giving it another unapologetic squeeze, “oh sorry, i’m blind. i thought it was.. your face.”

you roll your eyes, “my first impression of you was right, after all. you’re just a fucking pervert.”

“am nottt,” she quips, fondling the flesh without a care in the world, “you just have one hell of an ass on you. everyone else can see it, but i can’t. so be kind and let this poor, blind girl feel it.”

you slap the side of her head and get off her, limping off to the kitchen, using the walls as support, “i’m gonna piss in your tea. all nice and hot, just for you.”

you hear her shift on the floor behind you, “you promise?”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

* breathe if you love me ❤️

there you were now, legs crossed, scrolling on your phone as you rode the bus home. you could feel some people’s fleeting glances your way, and hell if you didn’t enjoy it each and every time. you’d grown used to acting unbothered, biting back a smile, like you didn’t notice all the attention on you — but you clearly knew what you were doing. if you noticed a particularly pretty girl looking at you from afar, you’d innocently fan yourself, using inexistent heat as an excuse to bunch up the hair hiding your back and nape, exposing more skin for her curious gaze.

of course, you’d always act surprised and flattered when she’d later come up to ask for your number. so easy.

and right now, your next likely prey was the quite attractive woman sitting in front of you. even though you pretended to be busy on your phone, you were hyperaware of her eyes on you. well, more specifically, on your tits.

you didn’t mind— hell, you even slightly leaned forward to accentuate your cleavage. after all, she was hot; buff arms resting behind her head, white tank top snug against her abs, long dark tousled hair, sweatpant-clad legs spread wide enough to bother the men on her sides. a potential fling.

you waited for a good while, but she made no move on you yet. she was just ogling you! ogling so hard that it was pretty difficult to act like you didn’t notice it.

that pissed you off. sure, you liked attention, but this was just a pervert. her eyes were drilling holes into your chest, and she didn’t even bother to glance up at your face once!

you decided to go for another approach, this time looking up at her yourself. maybe if you gave her attention first, she’d get embarrassed and properly hit on you or something.

you gave her one of your sultry smiles, tilting your head to further expose the delicate slope of your shoulder — then your eye twitched. she was still staring at your tits!

you huffed, now flustered, and sat up straight, pulling your top up so she could get the hint and drop it. jesus, did she have no shame?

her gaze lingered, and you felt your blood boil. what the fuck was her problem?

“stop staring, weirdo,” you finally barked, crossing your arms over your chest. that earns absolutely no answer from her, her eyes still stubbornly set on the swell of your breasts. seriously??

you scoffed, “hey, i said stop staring!” your voice raised up a notch, making some heads turn towards you. and even then, she did not budge. oh, that was it.

you got up from your seat, glaring down at her, “i’m talking to you, you fucking pervert. i said, stop staring at me!”

her eyes fluttered into a soft blink, her attention piqued, but she did not address you yet. by now, everybody was watching the scene unfold, and the embarrassment of being the only one speaking had heat creeping up your cheeks.

“stop acting so oblivious, you— you— you weirdo!” you stammered, anger rolling off you in hot waves, stepping closer to crowd the wide open space between her legs.

she looks up at you — well, more like at your chest again. you swore you felt a blood vessel burst in your brain right now. “are you talking to me?” she asks at last, voice low and genuine, casually making conversation with your tits.

“o-of course you! fucking pervert!” you scowled, voice cracked and high-pitched; all eyes were on you now. if there was one thing you hated more than perverts, it was the shameless ones who didn’t even try to hide it.

did she just expect you to be one of those shy scared girls who’ll just take it? wrong fucking person.

“you’re such a pig! i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you can’t just leer at a random girl’s boobs for the whole ride, then act all dumb— ah ah!” you interrupt her when her lips part, seemingly about to protest.

“no! i know what you’re gonna say. you think because i’m dressed like this, so slutty and revealing, it’s fine to look at me however you want?” you scoff, jabbing your finger into her chest harshly. “well that’s not how it works, you fucking sicko. and just because you’re a woman doesn’t make it any less creepy. the way i dress is not an invitation to sexually harass me, no matter how attractive i am.”

she frowns, mouth opening again, “but i—”

“nuh-uh— don’t even try!” you cut her off again, giving her another shove, “now that i exposed you, you’re going to play the confused victim? where was your shame when your eyes were literally stripping me naked a few seconds ago? or do you only remember it when you get caught, huh?”

a heavy silence filled the bus when you finished your loud rant. you were almost panting, heart thudding hard enough to shatter your ribs, hands shaky with nervousness and irritation. you weren’t just going to let this shit slide.

she stayed quiet until she was sure you had nothing left to say, then lazily scratched her head. “… i’m blind.”

…

that was one hell of a slap in the face. you expected many things to leave her mouth, but never could you have possibly predicted this one.

all the passengers immediately started whispering, many throwing you dirty looks and pitying the unbothered woman before you. you clenched your fists, chewing at your bottom lip, digging crescent shapes into your hands. you wished the bus would just crash right now to relieve you from this humiliation. you didn’t even know what to do or say in this situation.

“i—” you started, a guilty frown tugging at your features, still standing between her spread thighs, “i-i didn’t—”

she only cooed, sweetly waving you off, “aw, you didn’t know. that’s okay, no need to apologize. maybe next time, hold your horses and don’t be such a self-centered little bitch right off the bat, hm?”

you blinked. what?

“excuse me?”

“you’re excused.”

your brows furrowed, defensive again, “i’m not any of that. h-how was i supposed to know your intentions? all i saw was that you were ogling me! my reaction was warranted.”

she sighed, shaking her head like you were some disobedient child, “i told you i’m blind, and you still won’t take responsibility for the trouble you caused? just how entitled are you? all this ruckus over your tits. if i actually had sight and wanted to see some that bad, i sure as hell wouldn’t stare at yours. i don’t know why you think you’re such a hot shot.”

“i—!” you felt your cheeks flush at the quiet snickers around you, nails sinking deeper into your palms. “i-i’m not—”

she smiled, smug and taunting, and nudged your leg with her knee, “it’s okay. just save yourself the embarrassment, and go sit back down, yeah? the bus is still moving, you could trip.”

this wasn’t fair, at all. you felt tears pricking at your eyes. this wasn’t your fault! how were you supposed to know that she was blind!? this is how any normal person would react to a pervert! you wanted to argue further, somehow salvage this whole thing, but at the end of the day, you were the one at fault. you made a scene, and these were the consequences.

“i-i know i made a mistake,” you swallowed, trying to steel yourself, “but you don’t have the right to insult me. i didn’t do this on purpose, i didn’t know.”

“aw,” she crooned, her smile widening, “too bad. if you can make assumptions about me, then so can i. oh no, are you going to cry?”

that pulled a muffled sob out of you. you frantically rubbed at your eyes, mortified, “n-no i’m not! i.. i understand i was wrong, i just—”

“then sit.” she spat as she leaned back against her seat, looking bored. “if you know you’re wrong, shut up and get a move on. you’re bothering me.”

the longer this went on, the more of a spectacle you made of yourself. you could even hear phones being pulled out of bags, some discreetly recording the whole ordeal. this was definitely going into the list of embarrassing moments you’ll think of every night for the rest of your life.

“.. sorry,” you mumbled before deciding on sitting back down, refusing to look up from your lap. your fingers curled around the fabric of your skirt, deeply upset, as you tried ignoring the jokes circulating around you.

you counted the agonizingly long seconds left until you got home.

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the second the bus read out your stop, you instantly got up, excusing yourself as you squirmed through the gaps between the leaving passengers, desperate to get away as quickly as possible.

you finally hopped off with a relieved sigh, adjusting your clothes, face still red with shame. ugh, whatever, everybody in that bus will eventually forget about you anyway, and it’s not like you were going to see her again. no use dwelling on it.

you adjusted the heel strap that had been painfully digging into your calf, then started walking to your house.

“well well, if it isn’t jingle bells.” you squealed at the sudden voice pitching up behind you, startled, quickly turning back to face them — too quickly — only to end up tripping over yourself. you forgot you were wearing your seven inch platform heels.

the abrupt movement caused you to plop down right on your butt, as a god awful pain licked up your now probably twisted ankle to your spine, earning a loud wail from you.

“.. what the hell?” this time, you looked up at the source of the low voice. of course, what were the chances? there she was, her hands deep in the pockets of her sweats, her sightless eyes set on some place over your shoulder. “you’re so jumpy.”

you scoffed, rubbing at your ankle, “what do you want? i already said sorry, leave me alone.”

“so, you live around here too?”

a vein bulged through your forehead. why was she acting like nothing happened?

“yeah. wow, that’s great. same stop. i’m so happy.” you grumbled sarcastically, taking off your shoe to properly inspect the bruise.

she stayed quiet as you felt around the throbbing skin, biting back pained whimpers.

“is this entertaining to you?” you asked after a few minutes of her silently looming over you while you tended to your sprain.

she hummed, not moving an inch, “not really.”

“how did you even recognize me? aren’t you blind?”

“please, you sound like a fucking christmas tree when you walk. you’re a blind person’s dream.”

“…shut up.”

you exhaled, almost done. you just needed some sort of cloth to wrap it up nice and tight.. you reached for your ridiculously tiny bag, opening it, but oh who were you kidding— when did you ever carry anything other than lip gloss?

“need something?” she chimed in, picking up on the sound of your irritated rummaging.

“ugh, i just want some cloth or tissue to wrap around my foot, but i don’t have anything on me. all i carry with me are useless, useless things. always. seriously, why do i do that?”

she quietly listened to your continued rambling as you pressed down on your ankle with your own hands, when the sound of fabric ripping reached your ears. the moment you decided to lift your head, a torn white piece of cloth landed right on your face.

“it should do,” she casually put her hands back in her pockets. you grabbed it off your eyes, looking up at her, and noticed the wide tear on her tank top. and her now deliciously exposed abs.

you cleared your throat, and for a moment you were glad she was blind and couldn’t see how distracted you were by her muscles (after that whole fight about her “leering”.. talk about hypocrisy.) “t-thank you, you didn’t have to.”

she shrugged, “you’re miserable. just doing charity work.”

could she not be normal for one minute? you sighed, setting your protests to the side for now, grateful for the help, and wrapped the obtained fabric over your swollen flesh.

“what street are you on?”

“oh,” you looked behind you, pointing at the small alley to your right, “that one.”

she huffed, unamused, “i’m blind.”

“oh, right.” you blushed, “i live next to betty’s bakery.”

she grinned, leaning down, “i’m always at betty’s bakery.”

and just like that, right there in the middle of the street, as if the past hour didn’t happen at all, you bonded over chocolate pastries.

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the cold pavement was starting to freeze your poor butt, especially with how tiny your skirt was, so you shifted on your hands and knees, cautiously getting up.

“son of a bitch!” you cursed when you let your injured foot touch the floor, a hot sting rippling through your limb, causing you to immediately lift it off again. you rested your hand on her shoulder for balance, standing on your one good leg.

her hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, “careful, ankle sprains hurt like hell.” she feels around the ground to find your discarded heel and picks it up as well, “especially with shoes this big. jesus, why do you even need this? has to be height-fishing.”

you scoffed, “that’s not even a word.”

“well, it should be. just for you, actually.”

“shut up. they’re cute platforms and— ah!” you yelped as you felt your entire body get swept up in the air. her right arm hooked under your lower back, picking you up bridal style with ease, using only one hand, while she held your shoe with her free one.

“woah,” she squeezed your bare thigh, a sly smirk tugging at her lips, “you really are wearing nothing. no wonder you thought i was ogling you.”

“y—you—” you felt all your words melt into goo, growing redder as you stammered, feeling her buff, thick forearms curl against your naked flesh. your brain short-circuited.

“hold on tight,” she added, adjusting you in her grasp to slot you perfectly against her chest, then began walking. “watch my steps for me though. i can carry you, but i sure as hell can’t see where i’m going.”

that snapped you out of your stupor with a small chuckle, nervously wrapping your arms around her neck, “alright, thanks.”

you clung to her, a pleasant silence settling between you both, the only sound filling the background being the clinking of your bangles.

“you’re not that much of a bitch, jingle bells.” she finally spoke, a smug smile on her face.

you breathed out a laugh, “and you’re not a pervert, i guess.”

she chuckled, giving your ass an approving squeeze.

you rolled your eyes, “or maybe you are.”

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* mm.. the dillema.. make it a series or not.. maybe.. maybe not..

part 2 here!!