Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

Your nerves are in shambles as you approach the unfamiliar building. Your legs feel weak and your fingers clutch your wallet tightly, as if you suspect someone may try to mug you and steal it. For all that you know, it's possible. You’ve never been in this part of town before and you're grateful you haven't run into anybody you know. You’d definitely get questioned if someone saw you walking down the main street of Tokyo's Red Light District. Or more specifically, into a brothel.

It isn’t like you're out here on a whim. You’d thought about this for a long time, pondered over it many nights after hours of tossing and turning, and after five very long— and equally as frustrating years, you’d made your decision. You wanted to lose your virginity and you’d use all the resources at your disposal.

You didn’t have much luck out on the dating scene, which mainly consisted of Tinder and a couple of the local bars out in Roppongi. You’d tried it all: blind dates, speed dates, double dates. None of them ever resulted in a relationship— or even a one night stand— so you’d been forced back to square one each time. After five years of trying and failing, you’d given up on finding love for the time being.

But… not pleasure.

That’s how you find yourself walking into the luxurious lobby of the most popular brothel in the city. The smell of jasmine invades your nose and the sound of smooth jazz drifts into your ears, immediately creating a sensuous atmosphere that leaves you gawking. Red velvet couches line the walls, some accompanied by golden side tables where clients can sit their drinks while they wait to be called back.

At the front of the room sits a large mahogany desk with a woman seated behind it, tapping away at a computer. Swallowing, you timidly approach the front desk and lean in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello, I’d like to… Um, book a room.”

The woman doesn’t even bother sparing you a glance, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Male or female bodied?”

“Male, please. I’d like… the male with the best rating, if possible.”

Your cheeks flush when the woman stops typing, her eyes glancing you over before responding. “I’m sure you would,” condescension colors her tone, “but I’m afraid there are premium rates for our top-tier employees.” Ones that are out of your price range, she suspects.

“I’m prepared to pay as much as it takes.” Unzipping your wallet, you spread it open to reveal a thick stack of crisp ten thousand yen banknotes. You’ve been saving up for this since Christmas, working a full-time job along with attending classes at the university nearby. It’d been stressful and you'd worked yourself ragged, pinching pennies for the last few months, but tonight is going to make it all worth it.

Her eyes flicker between you and your stuffed wallet for a moment before she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I see. Well, I’ll have to check if he’s available. How long did you want to book him for?”

“…Three hours.”

Her eyebrows raise at that but she otherwise remains professional, nodding and picking up the phone on her desk. She quickly dials a number, sighing as she waits for someone to answer. “Hello? Yes, I was wondering if you’d like to accept a three-hour appointment.” She pauses for a second. “Yes, she’s here in the lobby right now and prepared to pay the fees upfront.” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you, Draken. Bye.”

Putting the phone down, she turns back to you. “He should be down shortly to take you back. That’ll be ¥120,000.”

— ღ —

After handing over the wad of cash, you take a seat on one of the velvet couches and run a hand through your hair. The room feels significantly warmer than it had when you first walked in and you realize it's because your heart is racing. It's happening. This is actually happening.

You'd almost chickened out this afternoon— considered using the money to take a nice little trip to Okinawa. You could swim with the fish and read out on the beach, eat some good seafood, blow off some steam. You'd definitely enjoy yourself but what happened once you came back? You'd find yourself back at square one, a hundred thousand yen poorer and filled with regret and immense sexual frustration.

There had been a couple of times you'd come close to achieving your goal. You'd gone to a frat party a few weeks ago, drank and danced your heart out. Even wore a pair of jean shorts that barely managed to cover your ass. When you ended up getting hot and heavy with one of the brothers, he took you back to his room only for you to walk in on his roommate having a threesome with two very talented blondes.

In March, when you first created a Tinder profile, you'd matched with a cute grad student who wanted to take you out to dinner. He drove you to a hotpot restaurant and halfway through the date, you two retreated to the bathroom to have a quickie. Your panties were around your ankles when you realized you didn't want your first time to be in a restroom stall beside a grimy toilet. You didn't want it to be a five-minute escapade that would leave you disappointed and unfulfilled. It's obvious to say the drive home had been awkward.

You're so deep in thought that you don't notice when a man walks out from behind the beaded curtain and approaches the front desk. You don't notice him at all— not until he's standing in front of you with a small smile playing on his lips. Onyx eyes roll over you slowly, long hair of the same color tied back in a braid. There's a black dragon tattooed across the left side of his head, and you have the oddest urge to reach out and trace your fingers atop it.

“You must be my client for tonight.” His voice is deep and smooth like molasses and a trill runs down your spine as he wets his lips, “I’m Draken.”

“Hi… I’m (y/n).” You offer, extending your hand out to which he lifts a brow.

He repeats your name back to you, drawing it out like he savors the taste of it on his tongue, and then takes your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he interlaces his fingers through yours and gives it a soft squeeze. “C’mon princess, ’m on the top floor.”

Nodding weakly, you’re practically in a daze as he leads you back through the curtain of sparkling beads and into an elevator that’s every bit as fancy as the room you were just in. He fishes out a silver key from his pocket before turning it into the lock beside the button labeled seven, and up you go.

The enclosed area only emphasizes how large he is compared to you, how much space he takes up. He’s well above six feet with broad shoulders and muscles that bulge inside the sleeves of his silk button-down. You can feel him watching you as you ascend but you don’t have the courage to meet his gaze. Tension bleeds into the air, and coupled with the stark silence, it’s nearly suffocating. You have to make a conscious effort to take deep breaths as you will your heart to calm down.

When the dinging of the elevator sounds like church bells, you aren’t surprised. You’re pretty sure heaven awaits you on the other side of these doors.

You find that heaven looks a lot like a bachelor’s pad. Filled with dark wood and sleek furniture, it’s a mini-paradise; complete with a fully stocked bar, a king-sized bed, and a balcony leading out to a hot tub. Music plays softly from the surround sound system and you breathe in the faint aroma of juniper and tobacco as you walk inside.

“I hope R&B is alright.” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go of it, kicking off his slippers and making his way over to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water?”

His brow lifts again but he nods, “Sure.”

“Thank you.” You look around while he pours out your drinks, taking in the scenic view of the city below. “You have a very nice place.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” When you turn around, he’s standing behind you, holding out a glass of water with a shot of sake in his other hand. “Be so formal.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You quickly accept the drink, muttering out a quiet apology. You’d done so much in preparation for this moment, but not once had you ever thought about how awkward it would be in the beginning. You hadn’t thought to look into the… ‘etiquette’ of brothels. You settle on giving him an honest answer. “I’m not entirely sure how to act.”

There’s a knowing smile on his face as he reaches out and tilts your chin up. His thumb glides lightly across your cheek, the calloused fingertip burning where it touches your skin. “Just relax. I promise you, you’re in good hands. I’m gonna take good care of you tonight.”

You know the gesture is meant to help reassure you and lessen your nerves, but all it succeeds in doing is sending your pulse skyrocketing. Apprehension bubbles low in your stomach and your voice wobbles when you respond. “O-Okay..”

“Let me ask you a question.” His thumb moves from your cheek to your mouth, feather-light as it ghosts over the curve of your lips. “You haven’t done this before, have you, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flare at his question, eyes widening in shock. Is it that obvious? “No, I haven’t.” You admit reluctantly, “I just— Well, I’m tired of waiting. I know the first time is supposed to be special, but… this is special in a way, right?” You watch as the comforting smile falls right off his face. His eyebrows furrow and you mimic the action, worrying what you’d said to elicit this type of reaction. “What? What’s wrong?”

He blinks at you as he processes the information and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. “First time?” His expression turns serious, his hand dropping from your cheek. “I was talkin’ about coming to a brothel, not having sex.” He shakes his head, “Look, I’ll take you back downstairs. Sana will get you a full refund—”

“No!” You cringe when you blurt it out, interrupting him. “Please, you don’t understand. I want to do this. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re sure or not.” His voice is stern now, taking on an edge that slices right through your pounding heart. “It’s a personal preference. I don’t sleep with virgins, not at work.”

“I— I can pay you more money, however much you want!” You know you sound desperate but that’s because you are. You’ve worked your ass off to get here, to have this experience, and now you’re grasping for straws as you feel it slipping through your fingers. “You don’t even have to accommodate me, just do your thing and—”

It’s his turn to interrupt you. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” You can hear the anger in his voice, it’s almost palpable. “You can’t just go around tellin’ people they can have their way with you. It’s your first time. You should be accommodated. Now, follow me. I’m walking you back down to the lobby.”

You don’t move when he walks back toward the elevator, keeping your feet planted on the hardwood floor. “If I should be catered to, then why don’t you do it yourself? Because if you take me back down to the lobby, I won’t be getting a refund. I’ll just ask for someone different.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers as it clenches, his eyes narrowing down at you as if that will help him discern whether you’re bluffing or not. But as you hold his gaze, unwavering and earnest, he realizes you’re telling the truth. Heaving a sigh, he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He should be calling security right now, have you escorted out of the building. He shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of conceding to your demands.

Yet, there’s something in your eyes as you stare up at him— a certain innocence that has him willing to break his rules. Just once. He’d indulge you this once, if only because he doesn’t trust anybody else here to treat you right. “…Fine, but we’re doing this my way.”

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. “Thank you, Draken. It… that means a lot to me.”

“I know it does.” Normally, he isn’t so forgiving toward people who threaten him but he can recognize the desperation in your voice. And desperation can lead to dangerous things. Other men would take advantage of that, and for some reason, he hates the thought of some old sleazebag taking your first time. At least with him, he’d make sure you’re satisfied. “Here, let’s sit down.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “Should we… take off our clothes?”

Your heart flutters when a chuckle rumbles up from his chest. You’re as awkward as you are stubborn and he finds it strangely endearing. “No, not yet. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, m’kay?” He scoots closer, turning to face you. “But I am going to kiss you.” He raises a hand to your cheek, his thumb resuming its stroking. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

He waits until you nod before beginning to lean in, slowly so you still have every chance to change your mind. But when his lips press against yours, claiming them with a tender kiss, you know there’s no going back.

His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours, and you kiss him back— albeit clumsily because of how nervous you are. He doesn’t seem to mind though, more than willing to take the lead and pick the pace. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to deepen the exchange, and you allow it, humming contently as the taste of spearmint and tobacco fills your mouth.

His hand moves to grip your jaw as the other trails up and down your side, and despite the shivers that ensue, it helps ground you in the moment, brings you back down to earth just in time for him to draw away. You’re left breathless, sucking in deep gulps of air to clear the dizziness that’s muddled your mind.

“You still want to do this?” Warm breath fans across your face, obsidian eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. He doesn’t find any.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, “I meant it when I said I want to do this.”

That’s all the consent he needs before he captures your lips again, this time with an intensity that makes your head spin. His hands move to unbutton your blouse, slowly working their way down to the bottom and slipping it off your shoulders. He doesn’t break the kiss as he starts palming your breasts, massaging them over your bra, and you can’t help the whimper that rises up from your throat in response. His tongue continues to explore your mouth, tangling with yours until your core is throbbing with need.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me?” He murmurs against your lips, palms splayed across your chest. One of them snakes behind you and nimbly unclasps your bra, letting it fall forward just enough to give him a peek at what lies underneath. “Lay back.”

Your body responds naturally, following his order without hesitation. You pull away and lean back until you’re pressed against the mattress with him looming over you, his eyes drinking you in as he slips the garment off your shoulders. “Fuck…” He mutters, “Look at you.”

Your nipples pebble beneath his gaze, pretty and pert and begging to be played with. He licks his licks lustfully, rough hands coming down to cup and squeeze them. Your head turns to the side when he starts to pinch the peaks, rubbing them between his fingers and forcing another whimper to escape.

He maintains eye contact as he lowers down, plush lips wrapping around one only to flick his tongue over the bud. “Draken…”

“There you go,” he breathes out, pulling back to admire the view. “Just relax, baby.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off, discarding it with the rest of your clothes before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.” He leans forward and grabs your hands, moving to press them against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate, the rhythmic thumping beneath your palm. It’s a sharp contrast to yours which beats wildly against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

With the sight before you, who can blame you?

His body is built and toned, corded muscles rippling across his torso and leading down to a delicious set of prominent v-lines. Your mouth waters as they flex and you drag your hands down to feel the hard ridges of his abdomen, a trail of dark hair descending down from his navel and disappearing into his jeans. You’re all but mesmerized.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his head dipping down to the curve of your neck. Straight white teeth graze across the tender flesh before suckling on your pulse point. All you can do is nod, your breathing shallow and uneven as his fingers continue tweaking your hardened nipples.

He knows the pace he’s setting is slow— deliberate— but he wants you more aroused than you’ve ever been, dripping wet for him when he finally takes you.

With soft pants falling from your lips, one of his hands slides down to your waist, his index finger dipping into the hem of your skirt. He could very well just pull it up, sneak his hand underneath it, but he resists the temptation, determined to make you squirm in anticipation.

And you do, every purposeful touch kindling the fire within you until it’s a blazing inferno. Your blood boils in your veins, your skin beautifully flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re in danger of overheating.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” He mutters, letting the waistband of your skirt snap back against your skin. Your hips eagerly buck at the small sting, making it easy for him to tug it off and toss it onto the floor, and then he spreads your thighs apart to reveal a large damp spot in the middle of your panties. “Shit, so fuckin’ wet…” He curses, his eyes getting impossibly darker.

You nearly clamp your legs together as his eyes rove over you but the adoration in his expression bolsters you, gives you the confidence you need so badly. You stay still and let him look, trying to memorize the image of him between your thighs as he does.

Time seems to slow down. Seconds tick by and with each one that passes, you grow more and more uncomfortable. Your pussy aches, the desire he’s so carefully cultivated inside you becoming almost unbearable. But he either doesn’t notice the need swimming in your eyes, or he doesn’t care. He remains hovering over you, gaze zeroed in on your clothed cunt.

“Touch me,” the plea escapes you before you can stop it, and the corners of his lips tilt up into a small smirk. “Please.”

He hums as if he has to think about it. You’re about to start begging when his fingers press against you, applying enough pressure to make you mewl. “Don’t get greedy, princess.” He chastises gruffly, “You’ll take what I give you, remember?”

You nod obediently so he rewards you, circling your panty-clad clit until your hips are shifting back and forth. Moans fall freely from your lips but it still isn’t enough. You need more.

“Please,” you whine, eyebrows cinching together as you gaze up at him. “Draken, please…”

He hums again and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties before dragging them down to your ankles. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” Completely bared to him, apprehension saturates the air, your stomach doing backflips as he leans down and blows out a puff of air against your folds. When you clench at the sensation, a growl sounds. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

The pink flesh glistens in the dim lighting of the room, every inch soaked with arousal that drips down the inside of your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you. If you weren’t a virgin, he doesn’t think he’d even need to prep you.

Calloused fingers rub between your puffy folds, collecting your slick until his fingers are covered, and then one of his digits prods at your entrance, easing inside of you. Your back arches off the bed as he curves it in a come hither motion, your hands flying out to grip his shoulders. “Fuck..!”

You should be embarrassed at the deep laughter that leaves him but you can only focus on the way he’s knuckle deep inside of you, adding a second finger and beginning to thrust them both in and out. “Your reactions are s’cute. What if I were to just…” He trails off as he lowers down until he’s face-to-face with your pussy, and your hands strike out to grab his cheeks so you can hold him back.

“W-Wait..” You stammer before swallowing thickly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no… I just… No one’s ever…” Your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

He cocks a brow up at you. “No one’s ever eaten you out?” But he already knows the answer. Your mortified expression is as good as any verbal indication. Shock flickers across his face, but he takes the new piece of information in stride, turning his head to the side and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh. “Lemme taste you, baby. You don’t need to be shy.”

Your insecurities melt away under his encouragement but when you merely nod, he nips at your skin. “No, use your words.”

“O-Okay.” You breathe out shakily, “Go ahead.”

The words have barely left your mouth when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue expertly swirling around the sensitive bud and tearing a gasp from your throat. His fingers resume their curling motions, and suddenly a familiar sensation begins building in your stomach. It reminds you of all the times you’ve touched yourself, all of the times you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy chasing your orgasm. You’d rut against your pillow only for your legs to start trembling, too weak to climb the last few inches to the peak.

Admittedly, your legs do start to shake, your body tense and on the verge of locking up. It’s like you’ve conditioned it to expect the worst, that you’ll get close enough to taste the high and then be denied like all of the other times you’ve attempted to pleasure yourself.

“Draken,” you moan, the sound so depraved you don’t recognize your own voice, “Don’t stop— p-please, don’t stop..!”

A groan erupts from his chest as your walls tighten around his fingers and the vibrations of it cause another wave of heat to wash over you, threatening to pull you out to sea and drown you in its depths. You’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been before.

It’s when his mouth suctions around your clit that you’re flung off the precipice. Pleasure blooms out from between your thighs, shooting through your limbs and out to the tips of your fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut as it consumes you, bleeds into all your senses until you’re writhing around in the sheets, hands blindly grasping for something— anything— to ground you.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking, keeps licking, long fingers thrusting inside of you to prolong the orgasm for as long as possible. “Good girl.” He praises, drawing away when you finally come to. You’re panting from the physical exertion, pupils blown with desire as you slowly lift your head to look down at him. His lips, cheeks, and chin are shiny with your slick, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so lightheaded.

“Thank you… that was amazing..” And even that was a gross understatement.

Rising up from between your legs, there’s a smug expression on his face. “Save the thank-you’s for later, princess. We’re not done yet.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands drop down to start unbuckling his belt, your eyes following suit and widening into saucers when you see the bulge in the front of his pants.

“Oh my god.”

It’s… he’s huge.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his pants and lets them drop around his ankles, your eyes boring holes into him when he pulls down his boxers and reveals both the prettiest and thickest cock you’ve ever seen. The shaft is long and curved, the tip flushed and leaking. A large vein runs down the entirety of the length and you swear if you look hard enough, you can see it pulsing.

He grips the base of it, stroking it a couple of times before prowling forward. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Worried ‘s not gonna fit?”

“…Yes.” You squeak.

He chuckles at your candor, opening up a drawer on the bedside table and fishing out a small plastic square— a condom, you realize. It only takes him a moment to tear it open and slip it on, the action effortless from years of practice. “Don’t be scared. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word if nothing else.”

Crawling onto the bed, he captures your lips in a kiss that can only be described as comforting. It’s slow and gentle, even when his tongue dips into your mouth, and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, holding you in such a way that you can’t help but feel cherished.

“I’m gonna start now,” he murmurs against your lips, “Remember, if you want me to stop, just say the word.” You nod in acknowledgment, and with that, he reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock prodding at your center. “Squeeze me as tightly as you need.”

Your hands shoot out to grip his shoulders right as he starts to push inside of you and your nails bite into his skin at the stretch, leaving crescent indents behind. A strangled noise bubbles up from your throat when pain takes hold of you, burning bright like the sun in the middle of summer.

“I know,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw, “I know it hurts. But it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Tears prick at your eyes as he pushes deeper inside you, but soon his fingers are circling over your clit, blending the pleasure and pain until one is indiscernible from the other. “Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His movements are so controlled, it’s impressive— even as the slew of foreign sensations threatens to overwhelm you, you’re able to recognize that much. His brows are furrowed in concentration, his breaths coming out in hot puffs that skate across your heated skin. And ever so slowly, he works you open, sinking into you inch by inch. By the time he’s bottomed out, a thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead, his voice strained when he says, “You did so well, baby, ‘m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You only whimper in response, turning your head to the side so your cheek is pressed against the pillow. You feel so full, inhumanely full. So much so that you’re genuinely surprised you haven’t been split in half because, for all intents and purposes, that’s what it’d felt like. Your only saving grace is the way he hasn’t stopped rubbing your clit, hasn’t stopped praising you for taking him so well.

It’s a testament to his self-restraint the way he manages to remain still, buried deep inside you, while he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to his size. If he were a lesser man, he’d push aside your comfort, neglect your needs and pound into you to relieve his aching cock. But he waits, waits until your pained whimpers morph into soft moans, until you start to squirm beneath him as your body tries to create the friction it needs so badly.

“Move,” you beg, your hands sliding down from his shoulder to grab onto his hips, attempting to move them yourself. “Please… need you to move..”

A pair of large hands tug yours away from his waist before they pin them down on either side of your head. There’s no real force behind the maneuver but you don’t fight him off as he threads your fingers between his, just like he did earlier this evening. “Look at me, (y/n). I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

Tentatively, you turn your head so you’re staring up at him. You’re not sure what he sees but approval shines in his eyes and a sincere smile graces his lips. “Good girl.”

With your eyes glued on his, he finally starts to move, drawing his hips back and pushing into you in small, shallow thrusts. Your lips part into a gasp, your breath hitching every time he’s fully hilted inside of you. Tears line your lashes but this time, they aren’t from pain. They’re from pure, unadulterated pleasure— the all-encompassing kind that leaves you in tatters on the floor.

“Feels s’good.. So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, his pace speeding up as more moans pour from your lips. The sound of skin slapping skin ensues and you cry out when he shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll.

Your pleasure heightens and you think that this must be euphoria as your tears overflow, spilling down your cheeks and dropping onto the pillow beneath your head. Yet, you don’t look away from him. You don’t dare shy away from his gaze, not even when the coil inside you begins winding tight, warning you of your impending orgasm.

He squeezes your hands as your body goes taut. You’re panting now— sucking in breath after breath as your bodies collide— but you can’t seem to get enough air. Up you climb, higher and higher until you begin to tremble beneath him, your hands holding onto his like they’re a lifeline.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks through gritted teeth, “Gonna cream on my cock?” He curses when you nod, dropping his forehead down so it rests against yours. “Well, go on then, princess. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

As if on command, the cord inside you abruptly snaps. A violent shudder wracks through your body, bliss clouding every single one of your five senses. It’s enough to wrench a deafening sob out of you, your back arching up off the bed so your chest is pressed firmly against his. He continues to drive into you as your walls pulsate around him and a growl reverberates up from his throat at the same time you feel his length twitch inside of you.

He stops after a few more thrusts, slowly pulling out of you and turning over to lie on his back. You whine quietly at the loss, but you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to complain.

“Shit…” He says, his head turning to look at you after a couple of minutes of silence, “How do you feel?”

Somehow, you summon up enough energy to smile through the exhaustion that’s seeped into your bones. “Definitely not like a virgin.”

He’s fresh out of the water, one hand running through brown locks rendered thicker by ocean salt. The pace is cheerful as they walk towards the cafe, hungry as ever after what felt like hours on end of catching waves, adrenaline slowly flowing out of their bodies and heart rate calming down. Eren spots you right away, suddenly so distracted he doesn’t reciprocate Jean’s playful shove nor does he wince in annoyance when he flicks his forehead.

You’re sitting across from Connie and Sasha, polite smile that turns into laughter at what’s most probably one of his friend’s lame jokes. Despite Jean’s yo! that loudly announces their presence, it’s Eren’s the face your gaze flickers to. The smile is still there and wouldn’t it be unkind of him not to return it?

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” Jean is absolutely oblivious to your presence and ungracefully lets himself fall down onto one of the rattan stools.

“Burgers are on their way” Sasha pushes her plate of fries towards him and he thanks her with a grin so bright it’s blinding. Her hair is still wet from the lazy swim she took shortly after they arrived at the beach, auburn hair drenched in enough red saturation to contrast with her magenta bikini. 

“I don’t think we’ve met” Eren hasn’t let his eyes shift from your features, so relaxed while witnessing his friends’ antics. You lazily return your attention to him once more and, with a pleasant squeeze of his stomach, he senses the anticipation. Is this encounter so casual, after all? Or is everything going exactly how you’ve been wanting it to? Either way, he’s more than fine with it.

“We haven’t” you reply with a sweet smile, offering a hand he oh so easily envelops in his.

Connie introduces you and your name rolls off from his tongue with a fond inflection already.

“She’s gonna spend the summer here and doesn’t really know anyone—” he interrupts himself to land a protective slap to the back of Jean’s head. He’s been choking down way too many of Sasha’s fries.

“She was asking for some advice on what to do, where to go” Sasha takes it from there, flashes you a smile “so we invited her to join us tonight”

“And I already said I don’t want to intrude” you shrink in your seat a little and Jean scoffs at your demeanor, a lazy wave of the hand to brush your concerns off.

“It’s cool. The more, the merrier”

“Besides” Eren worms his way into the conversation “you’re gonna need reliable allies if you want to survive in the wild”

Genuine amusement settles at the corners of your lips while you take note of the jovial glint in his mirth gaze.

It’s exactly what you must look like to them, you think while trying to decide what to wear for the impending night out. An outsider in need of some guidance, the right companionship not to feel too lost while attempting to navigate the pathetically lonely summer ahead of you.

The simple truth is that you don’t really mind being on your own. This was a last minute, impulsive trip you had booked without thinking too much about it. You sort of wanted to get accustomed to the quieter life, idyllic days puncuated by late brunches, ocean waves crashing against the shore, the familiar rustle of pages of your favorite books, perhaps a movie or two while comfortably snuggled in the big, soft bed your small vacation rental came with.

All you’re actually after is a peaceful summer but sure enough you don’t mind meeting a person or two, nice people you can have a chat with at the beach instead of spending hours on end listening to true crime podcasts. You don’t mind having an excuse to finally put on something other than your sleeping shorts, pull out the only lipstick you have carried with you halfway across the country and actually spend some time outside of your room.

You definitely don’t mind having the chance to get to know hot surfer boy either, pretty much the embodiment of any summer romance trope a girl could think of. Doesn’t take a genius to understand that he’d be the main character in each individual one.

Attractive? Check. Charming? Check. Residing on a remote island in the middle of the ocean? Check. Eats, sleeps and breathes just to flirt with anything that moves? Most probably, check.

And although romance is definitely not what either of you are after, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have some harmless fun.

Isn’t that what summers are for?

That’s the thought you carry with you as you approach their table at the bar, a confident smile hopefully concealing the slight tension in your shoulders. In the end, you opted for a striped blouse and a simple, white denim skirt.

Connie enthusiastically chirps your name and Eren, who is seated on the outer edge of the booth seating, makes room for you right away. The space is cramped enough for everyone to be basically leaning against each other and you think it’s not exactly a coincidence that your thigh has to be flush against Eren’s in order to fit in the booth.

“You have to try this, it’s amazing!”, Sasha grins while gently pushing her drink towards you, the glass leaving a trail of condensation on the mahogany table. You lean over to take a small sip from the green straw. It’s a classic piña colada, the frozen blend of pineapple and creamy coconut a little too sweet for your liking.

“Think I’ll go with a moscow mule” you smile an apologetic smile and she just shrugs, unimpressed.

“I second that” a gentle yet unfamiliar gaze meets yours, copper mug raised in a metaphoric toast “I’m Armin, so nice having you with us tonight!”

“Thanks, Armin” with a soft chuckle you introduce yourself as well.

They’re such a diverse group but manage to fit amazingly well together, you find. The common denominator is genuine friendliness, there’s not an ounce of fabrication in the kind tone used to direct questions your way, each and everyone of those present genuinely curious and determined to make you feel included.

“You can’t be serious” Connie’s nose scrunches in a displeased grimace “books? Tv shows? Is that seriously what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m technically on vacation” your weak attempt at justifying yourself is laughed at.

“A great reason not to stay indoors the whole damn day” Jean downs his third beer of the evening and points a finger in your direction “consider yourself under our wing from now on”

“Not sure sweating under the sun while jumping after a ball matches my idea of fun” you give him a skeptical albeit playful look.

Sasha, three piña coladas in, slams her fist on the table .

“That’s exactly what I tell them every summer!”

“No one forces you to play like, ever” Connie smirks her way “wish you’d spare us the agony of having you on the team actually”

“He’s kidding” Armin is quick to chime in, alarmed by the childlike astonishment suddenly filling Sasha’s big brown eyes.

“What’s your idea of fun, then?” a deep, warm voice pulls you away from the funny scene taking place in front of you.

“This night is fun” you smile, gaze finally meeting sage eyes that have been so intently focused on you throughout the evening. Your leg is still shamelessly pressing against his, more of an intentional touch than a forced one. The amount of warmth radiating through his jeans is enough to send a shudder down your spine.

Eren mirrors your smile.

“We’re fun people” he concedes “what else?”

You pause, pensive for a moment. It’d be great to actually be the mysterious, secretly entertaining stranger from the city he’s probably picturing but the sour truth is that you own a boring, quite ordinary personality.

“Reading at the beach instead of my bed?” you crack another smile, met with a chuckle and an eyeroll this time.

“Ever tried surfing?” despite the amused expression, it’s clear he’s not mocking you.

“I literally live in Tokyo”

“Not even on vacation? As a kid? Ever?”

It’s cute, the authentic shock painting his features. So you smile again with a slight shrug.

Eren clicks his tongue.

“I’ll teach you. You’ll never be the same again”

This time it’s you who’s laughing as he frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to picture how many girls you must’ve said that to”

Slightly taken aback, he offers half a smile.

“I don’t need to say that to girls, I’m actually an instructor”

“Right, so they come looking for you anyway”

“What’s this sudden interest in how I get girls?”

You innocently cross your ankles underneath the table, which causes your leg to press against his a little more.

“Not sudden”

Another boyish smirk splits across his face as he leans slightly closer, a dangerously inviting scent enveloping your senses already. He’s not even wearing any cologne.

“Seriously, come take a look tomorrow” Eren pauses for a second, intentionally, eyes travelling down to the soft curve of your lips “I usually make it fun, or so I’m told”

Sulking in your seat, you playfully raise your eyebrows because this is a game two should play.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna show me your place tonight?”

Without missing a beat, Eren fakes a pensive hum, magnetic gaze shamelessly lingering on your lips again.

“I might. If you promise to come take a look tomorrow”

He’s not one to be intimidated and, as a matter of fact, he has been fighting the urge to place a hand on your thigh for the entire night.

You huff, newly found boldness courtesy of the second moscow mule and the thrill of the unknown. Surf is something you’ve never been interested in and you sincerely doubt all the women telling him how good of a teacher he is weren’t simply after the same thing you are being offered right now. But if a little stroke of the ego and some acquiescence will get you what you want, which is for him to finally just touch you, would you really be dumb enough to miss the perfect opportunity?

“Fine. I’ll stop by” you concede but whatever he has to say in response gets harshly sucked in by Sasha’s sobs.

The invisible bubble that had shortly enveloped you both suddenly bursts with a pop as you redirect your attention to the rest of the party. Jean seems genuinely horrified, Connie is just laughing with literal tears in his eyes as he watches Armin whisper comforting words to their friend.

“What the hell did you say to her?” you’re slightly surprised to hear the protective annoyance embedded in Eren’s tone, especially when you thought he’d just laugh the whole situation off.

“Nothing!” panic makes Jean’s voice squeaky and Connie only laughs harder, slamming a hand on the table.

“She thinks the ocean has dried up!” he can barely spell the words out before erupting in another fit of laughter right as Sasha’s desperate sobs increase in volume.

“Sash, I promise nothing has happened to the ocean” Eren attempts to gently take one of her hands and move it away from her face but she just harshly slaps his fingers away.   

“I don’t believe you!” she wails so heartbreakingly Armin deems wise to catiously hide what’s left of her drink behind one of Jean’s beer bottles.

“Sasha” you softly chime in and perhaps it’s because your voice is still unfamiliar that she looks up, puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks “I just got back from the beach, with a gift” it takes everything in you not to laugh as her eyes widen in shock when you pull out a glass of water from underneath the table.

“Special ocean water, just for you”

“How did you get that?” before you even have the chance to come up with a believable answer, Sasha gasps so audibly a few people turn around to look at your table “are you a mermaid?”

Connie is howling with laughter at this point, as Jean slaps a hand to his mouth to no avail. Eren just sighs.

“Why do we let her drink every time?” he mutters under his breath.

You ignore each and every one of them as you inch across the table, palms facing upward.

“You can’t tell anyone” the conspiratorial whisper is what probably gets her as she leans over in turn, absolutely amazed while inspecting your wet fingertips.

“Guess it’s time to take her home” with a sigh of relief, Armin finally relaxes in his seat.

“Your turn” Connie grins mischievously at Eren, who just rolls his eyes.

“I could use a hand” his lips conveniently brush against the shell of your ear as he pretends the sudden proximity was nothing but a natural consequence of his standing up. You follow suit with a soft smile and so does Sasha, who refuses to let go of your hand.

“We’re not like this all the time” Armin looks exhausted and something tells you he’s usually the one responsible for keeping tabs whenever things get out of control. It suits his kind nature, or at least that’s the impression you get after spending a few hours with him.

“Will you come to the beach tomorrow? I’d really like to continue that conversation about confessional poetry” and so you smile at him, no ulterior motive besides the genuine pleasure that comes with meeting a new potential friend with interests so similar to yours.

Sasha impatiently pulls you by the hand as Eren balances her body against his, an arm around her waist to make sure she stands.

“Yeah” warmth radiates from the tired albeit gentle smile Armin offers you “I’ll bring my Robert Lowell book”

“Remember what I said” Jean scoffs impatiently as Connie waves goodbye with a pestiferous grin glued to his face “our wing. Fun summer. No more indoors”

“Aye aye, captain” you chuckle.

“Let’s go!” Sasha tugs at your blouse twice and Eren has to literally keep her from collapsing on the floor when she clumsily stumbles upon her own feet.

You gently untangle your hand from her grabby fingers and secure her arm around your shoulders, careful not to fall yourself as she suddenly leans in to press her nose to your cheek.

“Your hair smells like the ocean” she mumbles dreamily and you can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles from your throat while you help her out of the bar, Connie’s chuckle the last thing you register before stepping out in the humid hair of the night.

“Everything okay over there?” Eren can’t help but smile when he glances in your direction, sincerely amused by the way his friend is all over you.

“Absolutely” your smile is intended for Sasha instead, who is walking pretty much blindly since her undivided attention is still focused on something that’s entirely different from the sidewalk. With a careful brush of your thumb, you clean off some of the smudged mascara underneath her eyes.

“Maybe someone should’ve stayed with her” you discreetly whisper over her head.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll tuck her in, make sure she wakes up with water and some painkillers nearby” Eren meets Sasha’s gaze and laughs when she grins widely at him.

“You’re my best friend!” she cheers so loudly you jump a little “the best Eren I know!”

“I’m the only Eren you know” he gently flicks her forehead, fingers barely grazing her skin.

You chuckle again, too caught up in the moment to realize how disarmingly nice and attentive and attractive he actually is.

Sasha is not steady enough on her legs but you can barely feel the weight you’re supposedly sustaining, Eren most likely doing the majority of the work. He hums and distractedly mumbles reassuring nothings in response to his friend’s incessant nonsense, still more amused than annoyed. When you reach her apartment at last they both insist you step in with them, Sasha being particularly excited at the thought of showing you her seashell collection (“it’ll make you feel at home!”) but you kindly refuse and watch as he quite literally drags her inside while she enthusiastically waves and promises to visit you the next day. Whether she means to come by your place or dive underwater, you can’t tell.

Because of what you’re wearing, sitting on the sidewalk is a hard pass. Still, Sasha doesn’t live far from the beach, much like basically every other island resident. You don’t mind waiting outside, not when you can hear the faint sound of crashing waves and the brackish breeze gently ruffles your hair.

It’s relaxing, really, getting to quietly stand by as everything else drifts before you. Couples taking a stroll by the shore nothing more than dark silhouettes barely discernible from where you’re standing, an old man slowly pushing a gelato cart and then stopping to take a break, groups of friends loudly making their way through the street as some bystanders direct them glances expressing disapproval.

“Hey” Eren materializes next to you out of thin air, a smile tugging at his lips when you wince “want one?”

With a small nod, he indicates the ice cream cart. You smile back.

“Ah, no, thanks. Is she okay?”

Something passes through his handsome face, some sort of indefinite emotion gone before you have the chance to even fully notice it, the apology remaining tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

“Out like a light. C’mon, I want one, we can share”

He doesn’t give you the time to decline again. You just have to promptly follow him not to fall behind as he marches towards the vendor. They seem to know each other: Eren calls him uncle Katsu and the older man seems delighted about the encounter. He asks if his favorite customer wants the usual but Eren glances at you, amusement conquering his relaxed features once more.

“Nah, she wouldn’t understand. Give me something more tourist friendly”

Brows furrowed, you open your mouth to protest but you’re cut off by Katsu’s boisterous laugh.

Sullen, you end up with a butter pecan cone Eren lets you hold more than a fair amount of time for two people who are supposed to be eating equal amounts of ice cream.

“What’s the usual?” you grumble and he grins walking beside you, hands shoved in pockets and pace comfortably slow.

“Pineapple, with chunks”

“Nice” the attempt at playing off your skepticism as nonchalance fails miserably.

“You’re gonna try it eventually, I’m just giving you some time to get accustomed to the wilderness first”

With a huff you pass him the cone, trying to ignore the pleasant flip of your stomach at his words. Is he assuming you’ll hang out more than just this once?

“You really like living here” it’s a sincere observation that just slips out, past all the casual facade you’re trying to keep up.

Eren shrugs but there’s fondness in the way he looks at the ordinary street ahead of him.

“I do. Can’t imagine myself anywhere else”

The affection vibrating in his tone makes you bitter. You never experienced that sense of belonging, not to a place, not even to your own family. The only person who’s ever been the closest at becoming home has let you down so violently, so suddenly, your scarred skin is still having a hard time healing itself.

Eren peers down at you, taking in your pensive expression. He wonders why you look so gloomy all of a sudden, if your friends ever call while you’re busy spending your days all by yourself on the other side of Japan. He wonders why you’re here on your own.

“What about you?” his tone is light, poised between genuine curiosity and the urge to elicit a shred of actual information “how come you’re staying here all summer?”

The gloom dissipates so abruptly it hardly looks natural.

“Ah, my rich parents agreed to pay for the vacation so why not take full advantage of their kindness?” you shrug with a smile that hopefully covers up the lie well enough. His furrowed brows indicate that he’s not fully convinced but genuine intimacy and heartfelt confessions in the middle of the night are not what you need nor what you want, therefore it’s only fair to batten down the hatches.

“So, where’s this place of yours? Far from here?” you jokingly ask with a light shove of your shoulder to his arm.

Eren pauses for a second, seeming so taken aback you feel your face getting hot with embarrassment.

“You actually want—”

“You don’t—”

Both of you look at each other with furrowed brows, until he stops in his tracks.

Fuck.

“Uh” you let out a nervous chuckle “I’m so sorry. That was weird of me, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably stood in the sun too long today. Anyway, I can totally walk myself home, don’t feel obligated to—”

He too laughs but, again, it’s not to poke fun at your pathetic little self.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” the playful glint in his eyes only contributes to embarrass you further, so he promptly softens his tone “I should be the one apologizing. I just thought you wouldn’t want to, you know, after Sasha and everything”

You blink a few times, candidly confused.

“No? I mean, I like Sasha. I like all your friends” it’s the unexpected truth, one that makes him smile.

For a split second, he considers asking if you like him too, even if your willingness to let him take you home already speaks volumes. But why would he? If Sasha getting absolutely plastered and almost throwing up on you wasn’t enough of a turn off, Eren should just shut the fuck up and savour the opportunity he’s been waiting for ever since seeing you at the beach for the first time. He’s been picturing the pretty creases of that blouse on his bedroom floor pretty much the entire evening.

“I’m just a few blocks away” therefore he smiles that attractive smirk of his, right before taking one last bite of the crumbly cone in his cream-stained hand.

“Don’t feel compelled to—”

“You look beautiful right now” Eren cuts you off abruptly, words dying in your throat as you look back in shock “the whole night, actually. The last thing I’m feeling is compelled” his noses scrunches slightly, as if feeling nauseated by the ridiculous assumption alone.

Another beat passes before you allow your lungs to deflate with the release of a breath.

“Okay” you mutter, still dazed by the sudden, straightforward flattery.

Eren’s smile grows in softness this time. An entire second is spent thinking that smile suits him more than the confident smirk of a moment ago.

“Okay” he says back.

When he arrives at the beach the next morning, earlier than usual, he spots you right away. You’re sitting on your yellow towel and seem engaged in a heated discussion with his best friend, both of you interrupting the other with a frantic gesturing of hands.

Eren stops for a second, surfboard planted in the sand for good measure, one hand on top of the other as he just takes a moment to observe you. His mind travels back to the slight disappointment swallowing the convenience of waking up with an empty spot next to him, the sun bleeding through the shutters because he’d forgotten to close them. How could he had remembered with your fingers running through his hair and the goosebumps blossoming on his forearms?

He didn’t have the time to explore you like he had intended to, he couldn’t take his time because you were so eager and it was surprising how impatient Eren found himself to be in turn, how rapidly you adapted to each other. He even remembers genuinely enjoying the short, embarrassing incidents that came with growing accustomed to such a sudden yet highly anticipated proximity: your head bumping into his while straddling his lap, him knocking over the lamp from his nightstand, airy laughs swallowed by each other’s mouths.

Little to no foreplay was needed, the memory of your fingers closing around his wrist to confidently guide his hand between your legs still pulsing in his mind. He barely got the chance to kiss you, nowhere near as how he would’ve liked to, his lips being hastily reclaimed everywhere else.

He’s not even sure why he’s still lingering there, uncertain. Eren’s had countless one night stands before but once both parties got what they needed none of them were really there to hang out again, certainly nowhere near his friends anyway. He’s had longer affairs with tourists, mutual attraction and harmless fun lasting from days to weeks, his conquests eventually recognizing Jean or exchanging a few pleasantries with Connie. But this has never really happened. He’s never made plans with someone before even getting to the point of having them in his bed, for the next day no less. He’s never frowned upon waking up alone and he’s definitely never chuckled while barefoot in his own kitchen, the messily scribbled note you had tucked underneath his french press in hand.

Your coffee sucks.

You didn’t even bother to wash the mug abandoned in his sink but still you made sure he’d wake up to a freshly brewed serving anyway.

Eren’s never truly liked any of his one night stands enough to frame them as potential friends in the long run and so it was a little unsettling, the feeling that you were just about to change that.

“Can you believe they deemed this as lazy writing?” Armin’s finger skims across the page he’s holding open, underlining a particular verse “now the hot river, ebbing, hauls its bloody waters into holes; a grain of sand inside my shoe mimics the moon that might undo man and creation too”

You hum, appreciative.

“It’s the absence of flowered language. Nobody liked reading about raw trauma and dramatic events but at the root of hypocrisy is always fear and low self-esteem” with a little shrug, you smile “essentially, they were a bunch of assholes”

“You can’t truly appreciate poetry if life scares you” for some reason, Armin’s words make your insides twist for a second. You remember one of your favorite Anne Sexton’s poems and its brutal honesty: suicides have a special language, like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. It felt dangerously similar to how you were living.

“Enough of this unsettling realness” Armin closes his book with a loud thud and gently places it between your bodies, on your soft towel. You wonder if he’s noticed your sudden gloom or if he just genuinely wants to talk about something else. “Anything fun planned today? I know Jean can be insufferable but we do have some cool activities around here” he smiles.

“Eren wanted me to check out his lesson but I’m not sure surf could ever be my thing” the smile you return is shy, because you don’t want to sound ungrateful nor make the conversation weird. It’s pretty evident that you’ve spent the night with him, if only from the hickeys scattered at the base of your throat. Armin has just been nothing but a gentleman, too polite to even stare at them.

Once again, he doesn’t even falter at the mention of his friend’s name.

“Still, you should give it a go! I used to think the same and now I can’t go a day without riding a wave. Even when I’m not on vacation, if the weather’s nice enough I’m here as soon as I’m done working” he grins.

“I never asked what you do, by the way”

“I’m a copy editor in a publishing house, mainly work from home but sometimes I travel to Tokyo. Leaves me a lot of freedom, really. What about you?”

You hesitate. But he’s looking at you so candidly, head slightly tilted to the side, that you can’t find it in yourself to lie.

“I’ve been laid off a few weeks ago, actually. I was a winemaker at a pretty famous winery in town”

Armin lets out a slow whistle.

“That sounds so cool!”

You chuckle.

“All I do is monitor the maturity of grapes, oversee the process and place orders”

“I’d love to visit once you start somewhere else. I’m sure it’s gonna happen in no time” he places a warm hand on your shoulder and briefly squeezes it. You’ve never experienced the kindness of a stranger, not at such a high level anyway. As you thank him with a touched smile, for the first time this impulsive vacation doesn’t feel like just a way out anymore.

“I suggest you two sit closer to the shore, the first group of the day is gonna be here soon” a playful voice interrupts your chitchat and you look up to find a familiar figure silhouetted against sunlight right before your towel. A flash of embarrassment seems to take over his features for a few seconds as he takes notice of the now very much noticeable marks on your skin. But then he just smiles that friendly smile of his, one that tells you there’s a chance of not letting any potential awkwardness stand in the way of what could become a harmless friendship. You appreciate the maturity.

“Wanna help me out?” Eren then looks at Armin, who’s squinting his eyes in attempt to stare back.

“I’ll keep her company. Maybe later, with the kids”

“You’re pretty special, he never skips the chance to hop on a surfboard”

As you get up and start collecting your things, Armin’s book secured underneath your arm while he helps you out with the towel, you briefly glance at Eren with half a smile.

“Let’s see if you’re good enough to convince me to get on one in the first place”

He rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation.

“Just watch me”

And so, you and Armin look at each other with an equally amused smile, the complicity over a moment so simple warming your heart.

While sitting there with him, feet sunk into where the sand is cool and damp, you observe Eren with genuine curiosity. The variegated group he’s handling consists of ten people, it’s most probably not their first class as everyone seems to already know what to do.

They’re going over what they’ve learned until now, Eren repeating instructions out loud and nodding proudly as his students comply. Two girls, friends by the looks of it, keep asking him to help them position their bodies better on the surfboard. When the blonde one fails to properly stand up and her foot theatrically slips, with an exaggerated grimace she begs him to support her weight as she tries again. With Eren’s hands on her hips, she succeeds in hopping up with a form so perfect you can hardly hold back a scoff. Armin chuckles beside you.

“It’s pretty much always like that”

“No way” you mock “that’s crazy!”

“I mean, it’s kinda part of the job to go along with it” he shrugs.

Does he think I’m jealous or something?

“You didn’t have to stay” there’s softness in your tone, just to make sure he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but he blushes nonetheless.

“It doesn’t happen as often to me” the spluttering makes you giggle. You’re not blind: he has arms, he has abs, shoulders wide enough to well pique one’s interest and a smile so sweet he’s probably the favorite instructor of more than one student.

“I find that hard to believe” the implied compliment tints his cheeks with a richer pink and he runs a hand through his fair hair to conceal the embarrassment.

“But I didn’t mean it like that” you decide to put an end to his misery “I just meant, feel free to go ride some waves”

Armin shakes his head.

“I have the entire day to do that” he smiles “and no one else likes to talk about books with me”

“But your group is great. You guys seem pretty close”

“We all grew up here, I’ve known Eren since kindergarten and I met everyone else along the way. Some of us you didn’t meet actually, like Christa and Mikasa”

“They don’t live here anymore?”

Armin sighs, plants his heel in the sand a little deeper.

“Yeah, they moved for college and never really came back. They prefer the city”

You can understand that, to be honest. You grew up in a small town near the countryside and although it’s not nearly comparable to an even smaller island, you remember the primal need to run away, driven by the firm belief that there’s surely more to explore, better ways to live and opportunities to seize in the big city. Back then, Tokyo felt like a dream. An endless pool of magical possibilities.

“You probably think it’s insane, wanting to stay on an island that only comes alive a few months per year” Armin’s gaze is lost across the ocean, so you look ahead too. Eren’s group is in the water now, paddling in and taking off on the foam that propels colorful surfboards onto the waves. Most of the students previously warming up by the shore succeeds in remaining upright, cheered on by those who have either been less brave or simply not balanced enough.

“No, I think wanting to stay requires a lot of love. I never had that for the place I grew up in”

“And are you happy now, in Tokyo?”

You force your lips into a smile, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m happy”

Another cheerful fit of screams has you both returning your attention to the group challenging the ocean, one particular figure paddling perpendicular to an exceptionally big wave, angling his take off perfectly to the left before popping up and digging the inside rail of his surfboard into the water. Knees bent, he’s a sight for sore eyes as he beautifully rides along the vertical center of the wave, the sun complimenting his tan skin.

“Showoff” you snort and Armin laughs.

“Let’s go get a drink, Sasha makes a killer frozen lemonade”

“Sasha?” you ask, surprised.

He nods.

“She should be on shift today”

“She works at the cafe?”

Armin smiles.

“Her family owns the cafe, actually. She just helps out in the summer, whenever she can catch a break from the internship she’s doing”

And sure enough she’s actually there, all smiles and cheerful pitch behind the counter.

She turns ecstatic as soon as the spots the both of you, calling you by your name with such warmth your cheeks hurt a little from how wide you’re smiling already.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?”

You and Armin sit on the rattan stools opposite to the counter and she leans over with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Amazing, whoever left that ibuprofen on my nightstand has my endless devotion”

“T’was Eren’s turn to take you home” Armin shoots her a good-natured glare, which elicits her silvery laugh.

“I don’t think he was too bothered about it” Sasha’s intentionally looking at you and her grin has your cheeks grow hot.

“Leave her alone, make us some frozen lemonade” Armin gently grabs her chin and directs her attention to him.

“Oh come on, none of Eren’s special friends ever hangs out with us, I want some details!”

“Sasha!” he hisses as you shrink in your seat, head hanging low in embarrassment “you can’t remember this but she’s been nothing but caring last night, they both took you home”

“Armin, there’s no need to—” you mumble but he shows no sign of having heard you.

“It’s none of our business what they do” he grumbles, letting go of Sasha’s chin “now, please, lemonade. Before I die of dehydration”

She juts her bottom lip out, sullen, eyes back on you.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually happy I get to finally spend some time with another girl”

You shake your head with a soft smile.

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve all been way too kind to me”

Truth is, the fear of being seen as nothing but their friend’s easy fuck has been nagging at your brain. Especially since deciding you actually, really like them and wouldn’t mind tagging along if they’ll have you. And, of course, if Eren isn’t bothered. The last thing you wanna spend your summer doing is imposing your presence to a group of childhood friends just because you’ve had sex with one of them. That’d be gross.

“Here, it’s on the house” Sasha slides two tall glasses of frozen lemonade across the counter.

Armin grabs his with a sigh of relief, the creaminess of his drink rapidly decreasing in quantity as he gulps it down quickly. You carefully mix it with your straw, then have a first taste and have to keep yourself from moaning.

“I’m gonna need ten of these” you mutter and they both laugh. It’s genius really, the idea of combining the consistency of a milkshake with the tanginess of freshly squeezed lemonade.

You end up staying at the cafe to keep Sasha company while she prepares orders and entertains you with the latest gossip concerning people you don’t even know. You wonder where she gets all that energy from but you also think it suits her, that bubbly aura she so effortlessly carries around. If customers smile a little brighter and leave generous tips, it’s probably thanks to her never ending friendliness: she remembers their names, special orders and always offers free ice cream to kids. She even has special ice cream for dogs.

After a while, Armin leaves to help Eren with his next group of students, as promised. They’re all children this time, so you doubt they’ll bring them into the water: the whole class consists in some training by the shore, Armin and Eren patiently showing them how to paddle and corretly stand on a surfboard over and over again. When what you can only guess are some heated protests erupt, they patiently allow the kids to practice some paddling as close to the shore as possible. You catch glimpses of Eren’s smile and hear his laugh when two kids start splashing him with water, deaf to Armin most probably attempting to draw their attention to the lesson once again.

Eventually, he’s forced to surrender too, as one particularly agile kid climbs onto his shoulders and demands to be carried around. The whole class turns into nothing more than a game session and you find yourself smiling.

After each kid is collected by their corresponding family member, Armin doesn’t waste any more time and he swiftly grabs his bigger surfboard to jump into the ocean once more, finally free to chase waves at its own pace. Eren seems to hesitate, lingering by the shore for a moment, looking around as if searching for something. Then he turns around fully, seemingly scanning the cafe and meeting your gaze although, from that distance, you’re not completely sure he’s looking at you specifically. You’re quick to redirect your attention to the pasta salad Sasha has recommended.

“Ah, here comes the athlete” she pulls a face “let’s see how many wraps he’s gonna down, last time it was three”

“Hello, ladies” the familiar voice is so close you feel a shudder run down your spine as memories from the previous night resurface. He’s leaning on the counter, body facing you and arms crossed showcasing swollen biceps you’re surprised are not carrying any signs of the crescents you very clearly remember being a consequence of your tight grip.

“You’re dripping on my napkins” not nearly as dumbstruck as you, Sasha shoos him away with the impatient push of a hand. In response, Eren shakes his head like a dog would after getting a bath, splashing both his friend and you with ice cold water. She flips him off.

“You’re an ass”

“Will you make me one of your delightful wraps if I behave?” he grins like a child while taking a seat next do you.

“One?” Sasha skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Make it three”

You chuckle as you meet her knowing look, which causes him to turn to you. He’s even prettier up close, salt already drying on his smooth skin, cheeks slightly flushed.

“So? Opinions on getting started with the best sport in the world?”

Pensive, you bring a forkful of pasta to your mouth.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go”

You had half an idea of teasing him by suggesting Armin be your instructor but the way he quite literally beams at your words forces you to shut right up.

“I’ll pick you up later this afternoon”

“Pick me up?” you frown, confused.

“This beach is way too crowded, there are better places to go”

“So considerate” Sasha loudly places a plate in front of him and Eren just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even know where I’m staying” trying to swallow yet another lump of awkwardness, you keep your attention on the now almost empty bowl in front of you.  

He huffs, brushing your concern off by gesturing vaguely with a hand.

“I know where all vacation rentals are. Of course, if you wanted, you could make it easier for me”

A funny sound comes out of Sasha’s nose and this time you go along with her demeanor with the raise of a brow.

“If you want my number, just ask” the challenging words roll off your tongue playfully, you don’t really think anything of them.

But much like every other time you thought you had him cornered, he simply looks up from his plate and plants those resolute eyes in yours without so much as a hint of hesitation.

“I want your number”

Why your heart picks up its pace as you both let a beat pass while staring at each other, you don’t really understand. Nevertheless, as the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile with yet another one of Sasha’s scoffs in the background, you think it’s convenient that he’s pretty much doing all the work. Because of course you want his number too.

The place you rented is nothing more than a small beach cottage and while Eren doesn’t exactly live in a penthouse, his house is bigger and way cooler than yours. A mere 100 yards from the beach, it comes with a colorful, eclectic exterior and cute double doors opening out to the porch where he keeps his surfboard, a lounger, one whimsical sign that reads it comes in waves and a small table with two chairs. You don’t really have a porch, just three steps that lead to the front door, which is where you’re sitting while you wait for him to come pick you up. Your straw bag is resting at your feet, filled with the few things he recommended you to bring: sunscreen, a swimsuit, water, all wrapped in a towel. It’s later than you had anticipated and you nervously wonder if he’s actually gonna show up, how long it’s gonna take before you’re done. How ridiculous you’re going to look.

And then he pulls up by your little house with the peeling white paint, window rolled down and one arm gracefully hanging out a silver pickup truck. The two surfboards stored on the bed are reflecting the late afternoon sun.

A light honk has you standing up, his warm smile so wide you can guess the excitement shimmering behind those dark sunglasses.

He pushes the door open for you, so you rush to the car and climb onto the passenger seat. Eren barely gives you the time to fasten your seatbelt before his foot is on the clutch pedal again: his hand swiftly moves the gear shift to the left and then up and the accelerator pedal is pressed down way more harshly than needed.

“You do know that this is probably going to suck, right? I have no idea what to do” you anxiously shift on your seat, to no avail because your back remains glued to it.

Not bothered in the slightest by the ungodly speed he’s driving at, a genuine laugh slips out of him.

“It’s gonna be amazing, I’ll teach you everything you need to know! Plus, I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots, consider yourself lucky” he glances at you with a toothy grin and you let out a panicked sound.

“Look ahead!”

Eren laughs again but complies, not a care in the world or so it seems as he sprints through roads that are way too narrow and bumpy and lacking concrete for him to be driving like that.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why’s my coffee so bad?”

It’s the first actual semblance of a reference to the previous night. You swallow.

“Too bitter. Coffee shouldn’t be too strong, aggressive and off balance. It definitely shouldn’t have just one flavor either”

“Just like wine?”

Surprised, you just stare at him until he cracks another smile.

“Armin told me. You’re kinda cooler than what you come across as”

Eren fakes a groan when you smack his shoulder.

“I just meant” he refrains from looking at your scowl “you don’t really do yourself justice. All that talk about tv shows and books and spending the summer alone—”

“Those things can be cool too. Sorry, not all of us feel the need to live and look like olympic athletes” you cross your arms, stubbornly averting your gaze from his handsome profile to look ahead like a cross child. That’s how you miss a smirk he promptly suppresses.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you. I really do think you’re cool, regardless of your career”

A beat passes before you reluctantly eye him again.

“You’re tolerable, I guess”

The laugh he lets out is so genuine you have to fight back a smile yourself.

His good mood remains seemingly unaltered throughout the ride, lithe fingers absentmindedly drumming on the steering wheel as he strives to make conversation. By the time you arrive at the secluded beach he’s chosen for your first lesson, your nerves are calm enough for you to be actually excited about what’s to come.

The beach is nothing less than a little slice of paradise, sand so white it almost looks fake and turquoise water so inviting you can’t wait to jump in. For the first time, the island presents itself as something other than an overpriced magnet for seasonal tourists: it’s raw in its beauty, so quiet it’s hard to believe you’re not the only two people currently on an uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the ocean.

One thing you’re learning quickly is that Eren is scarily good at easing unnecessary tension. Perhaps it’s because he never seems to feel any, always so relaxed and ready to handle any unexpected circumstance or setback. Sure, he’s outgoing enough for people to easily like him but there’s something about the genuine smiles he offers to everyone, in the attentive care he reserves to his friends. Despite his well-trained figure and intimidating good looks, his touch is gentle and at times timid. He blushes just like everyone else if you trace the line of his jaw with sweet kisses and emits pleased hums when you run your hand through his hair.

You can tell this isn’t something he has set up to lure you back into his bed: how could it be, with that child-like excitement embedded in the instructions he’s giving you? You don’t even feel self-conscious nor ridiculous wearing the wetsuit he’s brought for you, he’s that great at making it fun and keeping it professional. Well, mostly professional.

For the nth time, you jump up with your feet planted and arms out to your side, stabilizing yourself and feeling the breeze flow through your hair as your personal instructor hums.

“Again” he demands and you huff.

“Are we gonna get into the water eventually? I feel like it’s been an hour of this!”

“It has been an hour of this. Now, do it again”

With a pout, you lie belly-down on your longboard once again. You practice your paddling motion once again and then place your palms on the flat of the board just below your chest. In one quick motion, you push your body up with your arms and tuck your feet up and under you. You had started by getting up to your knees first and then bringing up one foot at a time, but you have gained more confidence over the endless minutes spent practicing the same movements over and over again.

“Look at that. You’re a natural” he finally grins, letting some warmth leak through the all too serious facade.

“Thanks to a good teacher” you smile back and he rolls his eyes, barely refraining from uttering a cocky comeback to your obvious statement. He steps closer, calloused fingers gently placed on your hips and warm breath suddenly ghosting over your cheek.

“Don’t spread your legs like that” he mumbles, his own foot gently pushing from behind your left ankle to guide your foot into a better position “this might feel comfortable but it actually makes it harder to control your movements. Balance is always side-to-side, never front to back”

You comply quietly, the sudden closeness leaving your mouth dry. What the hell? It’s not like you weren’t on top of him just a few hours prior. What on earth could be making you so nervous, like some damn bashful teenager?

“Eyes up” Eren gently grabs your chin to lift your head up “always look in the direction you are going”

His other hand is still on your hip, your skin burning so much at the contact you’re positive his fingers are going to leave a mark somehow.

As he lets you go, you’re left so cold you actually shiver.

“Okay! Let’s take it into the water” he gets down on one knee to secure the leash around your ankle, the pads of his fingers grazing your skin once again sending an electric buzz throughout your veins. What the fuck.

Perhaps he senses your weird bodily reactions because he stands up again and motions you to take your board with the impatient wave of a hand. He has his surfboard too, although after seeing what he’s actually capable of doing with it, you doubt it’s gonna be used to ride an actual wave.

“Just get comfortable first, see how it feels” when you’re both waist deep into the ocean he holds your board for you, helping you lie on it again and chuckling when you slip right off a few times.

“You shouldn’t laugh at your students” with a grimace, you try to hold on to it by curling your fingers around the edges. He untangles your grip immediately, one hand gently pressing on the small of your back to keep you balanced on the slippery surface immediately after.

“Never do that, your hand’s gonna slip off and you’re gonna slash your chin open” a subtle teasing is still laced into his tone, so you roll your eyes.

“Okay. I can do this” you mutter, as determined as ever not to fall off the stupid thing again. You haven’t even started yet.

“I know you can” he sounds so goddamn sincere it’s a pain to refrain from glancing in his direction and actually focus on what you’re supposed to do.

With a deep breath, you start paddling around and although you drink your fair share of water in the process, after a while it starts feeling more natural. Your board planes across the waves, nose slightly up, your feet rightly positioned with your toes grazing the leash string. You paddle with long, deep strokes, and Eren keeps shouting instructions and encouragement even if you stray too far from him.

Adrenaline starts circulating in your system and your confidence gets a boost the first time you manage to pop up and shakily cruise on what’s probably the smallest, insignificant wave in recorded history for three entire seconds before slipping back into the water.

But you shout your astonished cry of victory nevertheless and Eren smiles so widely, so proudly, you let excitement cloud your senses and quite literally jump into his arms. It’s not embarrassing, not even when you realize what you’re doing, because he hasn’t tensed a second and is actually hugging you back, happier than ever for the smallest of accomplishments of someone that’s not even him. Of someone he barely even knows.

“Let’s go” you mutter and actually have to take a poorly balanced step back because he’s not, by any means, the one breaking the impulsive hug “I wanna do it again”

This draws an airy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re already hooked, aren’t you?”

“I just can’t believe how good it feels!” you beam, absolutely euphoric “hate to admit it but maybe you had a point”

“Yeah, that happens a lot”

“People being skeptical whenever you say anything?”

Eren huffs and then inches closer to brush some wet hair away from where it’s sticking to your cheeks and forehead, his touch pleasantly cool on your heated skin.

“Me being right” he doesn’t let go of your face, seemingly conflicted about whatever is going through his mind. Oh, he looks good like this, like he belongs to the sea and the summer and whatever beautiful scenery he may be surrounded by. He just fits in. He’s like a tanned Apollo peering down at you, if his hands weren’t on you it would be alarmingly easy to think he’s just a figment of your imagination.

The adrenaline rush still hasn’t worn off, perhaps that’s why you crack a smile.

“Anything else you feeling right about?”

The self-discipline Eren has to exercise not to kiss you knocks the wind out of his lungs for a moment. Because what would become of him if he’d let himself yield to a temptation he doesn’t even completely understand yet? It’s just day two of knowing you.

Get a grip.

“I think we’d be good friends” it’s not lying, he tells himself. It’s just telling a partial truth. And he wishes so badly not to notice the disappointment that flashes in your eyes for a second, as you take a wobbly step back and force another smile on your pretty lips.

“Totally, I agree”

Eren clears his throat and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, which he hasn’t tied back like he had in the morning.

“The sun is about to set, I think you’ve trained enough for today. Let’s head back”

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” you peer up at the sky, only then noticing the soft orange hues painting it “just ten minutes. I haven’t been anywhere this quiet in a while”

“Ten minutes” he agrees and straddles his surfboard, hands pressed on the surface in front of him as he looks up as well.

You imitate his position and sit on your board as well, reveling in the gentle way the waves are lulling your body.

Eren thinks you look beautiful like this, eyes shut and facing the setting sun, features relaxed and hair wet. He can easily see himself dating you, someone who has already won his friends over and whose touch he seems unable to stop craving. But what would be the point? He’s all too familiar with what being an islander means. It’s a fluid state of being, his existence nothing more than a fleeting detail in the lives of those who come and, inevitably, go.

Insularity is painfully romanticised and although most times he gets a kick out of the benefits that come with belonging to a place so distant from the mainland, he also realizes the downsides.

You won’t be here when the days will get shorter and tourists will fly back to their dull lives. You won’t witness the way leaves turn a deep shade of crimson and fall from the trees of his beloved cedar forest, you’ll never take part in one of Connie’s notorious christmas parties nor you’ll taste the Kansai-style ozoni Sasha always brings to their new year’s dinner.

And so, Eren will just keep doing what he does best. Remaining nothing more than a fleeting detail in someone else’s summer.

“Thank you for doing this” your voice snaps him back to reality. He cocks his head, confused.

“I didn’t do anything”

You smile with a little, timid shrug.

“You were up early, training group after group and still took the time to indulge me. I can only guess how tired you are, let’s head back”

He’s not tired. He’s so not tired, he would gladly spend the rest of the evening sitting on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean just talking to you, apparently. Perhaps one of his students’ boards collided with his head?

Eren notices your subtle shivering and clicks his tongue on the way back to his car. He carries your surfboard too and secures it on his truck once again, right next to his. He then undoes the tab at the back of your neck, pulls it down and unzips it to help you out of the wetsuit, patiently waiting on the other side of the car while you get out of your wet swimsuit and slip back into the white sundress you had on earlier that day.

“All done!” you walk around the vehicle, eager to climb onto the warm passenger seat once more. But Eren sees the goosebumps blossoming on your arms and another shudder is enough to inch forward to keep the door of his car locked. You turn around to look at him, a questioning look on your face.

“Come to my place” he blurts it out before he has the chance to stop himself. Your brows knit.

“Why?”

“You’re obviously cold and my house is closer” Eren does his best to play off his tension as sense of practicality “just take a shower, warm up and then I’ll drop you off. I swear I’m not gonna try anything, it’s not—”

“Okay” you interrupt his pathetic rambling and he blinks back the surprise.

Oh.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go then” Eren clears his throat and opens the door for you.

It feels a little weird to be honest, but you’re not uncomfortable as he drives back to his place. This is probably the last time you two will hang out anyway, so what’s the harm in accepting a friendly offer, especially when you can’t seem to stop shivering?

“So… what d’you do once summer ends?” the quietness is slightly unsettling, so you take it upon yourself to make some small talk. He glances at you, no panicked reaction elicited this time as he’s driving more carefully.

“My family has been in the fishing industry for decades, I mainly help them out and try to catch whatever job I can handle from home”

“Do you ever travel? Like, to cities”

Eren huffs out a laugh.

“Yes. You think I’m some kind of savage?”

“No!” heat crawls up from your neck to your cheeks “of course not, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, I’m kidding” he grins “my college was in Osaka. Lived there four years, got my degree, came back”

“Which degree?” still a little flushed, you avoid his amused gaze.

“Mechanical engineering”

“And you’re not offered engineering jobs?” there’s outrage laced into your tone.

Eren just shrugs.

“Yes. But they all require my presence in an office on the mainland”

You don’t say anthing, mainly because you don’t want to risk blurting out another poorly phrased sentence. It would come out all wrong, it would sound as if you’re looking down on him.

Eren senses everything that’s sitting behind your silence and he’s not bothered. His personal life is not really any of your business and although he understands you mean well, yours is an opinion he’s heard way too many times before. It’s a topic not even worth discussing, least of all with someone he’s barely just met.

When you arrive at his place, your hands and feet are ice cold, your hair painfully frizzy. He asks to give him a second and disappears into the bathroom, rattling sounds coming from behind the closed door making you smile as you hop onto the kitchen counter and take a look around. The small living room is messier than it was last night, or maybe you simply didn’t have the time to really look around on your very first entry to the house.

He comes out of the bathroom with a folded drying rack filled with clothes in his arms (I forgot I was drying laundry in there) only to disappear into his bedroom once more, the sound of closets being harshly opened and closed alongside what you can only guess are wardrobe doors slamming against the wall makes you chuckle.

“What are you doing?” amused, you have to shout the question from where you’re sitting.

He comes out of the room with arms full once more and directs you a quick smile before heading back to the bathroom.

“Fixing you towels and something to wear, that dress won’t do!” he shouts too, which makes you giggle.

“Don’t give me your clothes!”

“They’re clean!”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

Eren finally walks into the kitchen, seemingly exhausted, all the way to the counter you’re sitting on.

“Okay, the bathroom is more guest-appropriate now” a small smile tugs at his lips and you notice the wet stains on the front of his black shirt. Has he cleaned it?

“Thanks” you mutter, a sudden, small lump of uneasiness you can’t seem to swallow.

“I’m such an idiot” he snorts “you must be thirsty. Water? I also have orange juice somewhere, or maybe iced tea”

Right as he takes a step to walk past you and towards the fridge, your body moves on its own accord and your fingers instinctively grab the hem of his shirt. Eren stops, surprised gaze flickering from your hand clenched around the fabric of his clothing to your face.

“I’m sorry, Eren” your brows knit in a frustrated frown “I didn’t mean to come across as judgmental, or worse, an elitist asshole”

You exhale, unable to sustain the look in his eyes. “It’s not my place and definitely none of my business. But please know I really didn’t mean—”

“Fuck” he curses under his breath, cutting you off abruptly “you’re making it very fucking hard for me”

Disoriented, you cock your head.

“I’m making what hard?”

Eren plants his palms onto the counter, on either side of your hips, body inching forward. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, forehead dangerously close to be leaned against your own. You can’t resist the urge to gently nudge the tip of his nose with yours, an insignificant gesture that somehow has him sucking a sharp breath in. You’d love to giggle, the teasing question does kindness turn you on? dancing on the tip of your tongue but then his tongue is peeking out to wet his bottom lip a second before he leans forward and traces the soft edge of your neck with the tip of his nose. His mouth follows along somehow, not quite kissing your skin but certainly grazing it, anticipation having your breath quicken.

“You said we should be friends” you whisper, regretting it right away. Eren emits a frustrated huff, breath hot on the neck his parted lips are still gently exploring.

“I said we’d be good friends. And we can be” he places his hands on your thighs, a touch so incandescent the thin fabric of your skirt may as well not be there at all “friends who do this” and just like that he finally closes the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a burning kiss that draws a sigh of relief as you pull him closer. He tastes like the ocean, the strands you have buried your fingers into not as soft as the night before, rendered dry by the salt he still hasn’t washed out.

Eren is an eager kisser, right as his grip on your thighs tightens his tongue is languidly slipping past your parted lips with a satisfied hum vibrating in his chest. Head tilted into yours, he kisses you so hard you think your lips might bruise, he kisses you until you start getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen and he does too, although he wouldn’t mind challenging something as silly as the chance of his organs shutting down if it meant keeping his lips moving against yours and having your hands cradling his face.

You break apart first, a panting, breathless mess when you rest your forehead on the curve of his shoulder. He relaxes the grip on your legs, chest heaving with the depth of his own ragged breaths. So long for self-restraint.

“I meant it” he whispers and you find it in yourself to lift your head and meet his gaze “I didn’t invite you here to—”

“Lure me back into your bed?”

Eren senses the playfulness laced into your tone and smiles.

“Yeah”

When he attempts to take a step back, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. Except he doesn’t offer any resistance, allowing you to effortlessly pull him closer until he’s flush against the counter and the tip of his nose grazes your cheek.

“I know” you mutter, honest “and I appreciate that. But, if you’re down, I’d really like to take that shower with you”

A beat passes.

Two days of knowing you and Eren thinks you hold all the right tools to drive him absolutely insane already.

not only does the stupid black compression shirt he’s wearing highlight the slender accent of his hips and itty bitty waist — but it clings to every muscle in bakugou’s marble-carved body. you can see every bulge of his biceps and ripple in his backs, even down to his washboard abs. honestly, you count your lucky stars every day that you managed to sink your fangs into the blonde before anyone else did, claiming him as your own. you might have even thrown up if anyone got to see him lounging about the place in grey sweats the way you did, the material just barely sitting on his hips.

you have to swipe at your mouth to stop yourself from drooling when he puts his mug down and lifts an arm up high to put the coffee granules back in the cupboard — his shirt riding up just enough for you to get a good look at a slither if his his sun-kissed, diamond cut v-line and waistband of his boxers too. it’s like the guy is purposefully trying to kill you.

just the very sight of katsuki like this, probably fresh from his work out, has you in a shambles — breaking out into hot sweats, panting like a dog. someone might even think you’re sick.

katsuki pays your little tantrum no mind, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the kitchen counter while he waits for you to finish.

“you look so good.” you relent eventually, shoulders sagging.

shaking his head in a fond manner, the blonde rolls his ruby framed eyes. “no, you look good.” katsuki coos amusedly, arms opening wide for you as you pad further into the kitchen to snuggle against his chest. although he’s taunting you and you’re playing right into his game, you will always love that katsuki finds little ways to compliment you and make you feel adored — you feel it as he presses the wisps of a kiss into the crown of your head. “you always do.”

“it’s not fair that you get to go around like this! wearing that and making me feel all—!” you wave your hands about eccentrically, a heated frustration burning at your nerve endings as you screech your feelings out.

bakugou smiles to himself, sexy and slow, barely jumping when his toast pops out of the toaster. he grabs it, holds the corner of his food between his rows of pearly white teeth and spins your positions so that he traps you against the kitchen counter. “gonna need some context, babe.” you think that he’s going to touch you but instead reaches behind you to grab at his coffee.

freaking tease.

it’s impossible to think clearly when your boyfriend is this close — his intoxicating musky scent of sweet sweat and cool toned aftershave making you dizzy. “i hate you.” you state indignantly, flopping against his chest and letting it’s plushness muffle your speech patterns. “you’re stupid hot. and a slut.”

“you slut shamin’ me, sweetness?”

“s’what you deserve. dressin’ like you don’t belong to nobody. like you belong to the streets.”

“i belong to you, baby. you know that.” chucking his toast onto the counter, the blonde swoops down to kiss you hungrily — tasting of freshly brewed coffee grounds and salt. of course he would get off to something like this. he’s got you right where he wants you, weak in the knees and melting in his arms.

you screw your eyes shut, squirming in place as bakugou steps back and guides your hand under his tight fitting compression shirt, overloading your brain with just how built he is. fleshy pecks and golden abs. he ends up keeping it rolled up so you feel hot all over. “i can get undressed if it makes ya feel better.”

you can’t help that your eyes drop back down to his cotton grey sweats — they’ve slipped a little lower, low enough for his sharp v-line and soft blonde curls from his happy trail to peek out from the waistband. if you squinted (not that you would need to) you could make out the outline of his semi as it brushes against your inner thighs.

this is it. this is the end. “it makes me feel worse actually. like i might die of thirst or something. especially if you don’t—“

“if i don’, what?” his hands are all over you now, splayed over your tummy, digging into your waist — he overwhelms you. pressing his body against yours until you practically feel him through your pores. bakugou is hot (physically, sure) but against you, your desire for him spreads like a heatwave through every inch of your body — from the tips of your fingers and toes to the top of your head.

“kiss me.” you breathe, a neediness seeded into your tone.

bakugou arches a blonde eyebrow, looking down at you cockily. “c’mere then, brat.”

he uses a finger and thumb to tilt your chin up towards him, leaning down to kiss you before tricking you with a fake out. just as you begin to whinge and complain, the blonde squishes your cheeks so you can’t wriggle away from him and licks into your mouth with a teasing laugh. he only kisses you fully when you grasp at his slender waist, feel him up from under his clothes and slip your hands over his ass — just bellow the waistband of his sweats.

“fuckin’ tease,” katsuki grunts, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth and sucking in your tongue.

a free hand wanders from his bottom, climbs up the rippling muscles of his back and tangles in bakugou’s sandy roots — fisting then as you drag him closer, working your tongue into his hot and welcoming mouth. “takes one to know one, kats,” you mewl into him, letting him swallow your satisfied gasps and squeaks.

every action, every groan and grope becomes rougher, needier, hornier — squeezing each other turns to grinding on one another until there’s no room for either of you to breathe and just as you move to shove your hand down the front of his boxers, everything comes to a halt.

you knock bakugou’s coffee over when he lifts you onto the counter.

“ow! hot!” you squeal, still tilting your head back to make room for the blonde at your neck.

he doesn’t stop, nipping at your skin. “yeah, so you’ve said babe.”

“not you, dummy!” swatting at your boyfriend, you push him off. “the fucking coffee on my ass!”

katsuki blinks, his lashes fluttering against the column of your throat while be peeks over your shoulder at the beverage spilling across the counter and seeping into your clothes.

“that’s what you get for callin’ me a slut.”

“oh…oh fuck you.”

“‘m trying babe.”

“fuck you. slut.”

“keep degrading me sweetness, ‘m kinda into that.”

You flip the letter over and skim the instructions, the same as they always are expect this time there is an extra line to add, maximum security level ten, as if you had to notate some sort of alert to the mailroom for an extra thorough check of this particular piece of mail. You bite the inside of your lip, toeing off your kitten heels before padding over to your computer with letter in tow.  

The request comes as a surprise, mostly because they listed a specific inmate instead of your usual list of inmates who wished to receive mail but had ties cut from their own families or needed some semblance of someone on the outside to speak with. Never asking you to address some sort of conversation with someone who sounded like they didn't want to have one at all. 

Snarling your lip when you read the affiliates that you needed to avoid as if their government names gave you any idea of who they were, some of them anyway. 

Two with whom you were already exchanging letters with weekly. 

Your usual routine to wind down from work is lost to your undying hunger of who this person was. Although you had to admit Bakugou sounded eerily familiar. 

A quick search brings up his villain name,  Ground Zero, captured during a raid of some sort and he alone needed several heroes for his capture. His quirk was dangerous, explosions detonated by sparks along his forearms and palms from his sweat that contained nitroglycerin and it seemed as if his mental health was just as stable as the fuel to his quirk. 

Looking at him wrong set him off and he was powerful enough to level buildings from just a few juls of output from his intense explosions. Still curiosity killed the cat and you delved deeper. 

Wondering how Izuku, aka Deku, who was quirkless and Eijirou, aka Blood Riot who could harden his skin, which you knew from their letters, got caught up with a living, breathing nuke. 

Thankfully most of the documentation and footage involving Katsuki's arrest was released to the public with redactions and edits of course but what you needed was the raw data. 

Finding unofficially released footage from Mirko's body cam, the only surviving body cam between the pursuing heroes. It starts right in the midst of the action, sirens wailing  and people screaming in the background as the scene unfolds. Ground Zero and Mirko exchange blows evenly while Endevor tries to ambush him from behind. The hulking blonde smirks, as if he had no blind spot, swinging his large arm backward hitting Endeavor right in the mouth, hard enough it sends him flying.  Katsuki's bromine eyes flicker to what must be vantage points off camera as if searching for something. 

"Got that pesky ass four eyes on me huh? I'm hurt ya don't wanna play with me properly, hops." He dodges a kick to the chest, sliding back and it's obvious his prowess as a fighter is unmatched, even with his quirk silenced.

"Shut the fuck up. Ya talk too much."  Shifting her weight to fein a kick that he catches, pinning her thick leg between his sturdy ribs and strong arm as he wears the nastiest smile. One that Mirko wipes off quickly with a swift kick from her free foot straight to his handsome face. Turning his cheek and blood arcs from his mouth, still he does not stagger nor falter. 

He even still has her leg pinned as she stands awkwardly, back arched to him and her bunny tail twitches. The viewer can only see the ground and her free leg but the mic still very much catches what he says next and you're sure the smile he was wearing earlier comes back tenfold. 

"Careful hops, ya get any rougher with me and I'll cum." 

His laugh echoes shortly after and the sound should not cause your stomach to flip the way it does before the footage abruptly ends. 

Taking the time to scroll through a few more pictures and articles, trying to find where it all went wrong when really none of that was your business, still it killed you to know. 

And when you fail to find anything, fail to find that butterfly effect that puts his whole life askew, it does little to quell the uneasy feeling that gnaws at the pit of your stomach. If anything it fuels it yet still you rummage your desk for stationary and a pen. 

Sealing away the envelope once you were done and setting it by your purse to grab in the morning when you think you'll be braver. 

Or maybe less brave as you hesitate by the mail drop off box, your train fast approaching the outside terminal before you shove it into the slot quickly. 

Too late to take it back now. 

Besides what were the odds he'd even send one back?

"B-001174, got mail." The guard grunts as he slips the already open letter under the cell door, finishing his rounds before the doors would open and the inmates could roam about the pod as they saw fit. 

Katsuki snarls, he didn't get mail, letters or pictures or even the cult following he once had he'd scared 'em all off. Tired of all the stupid bullshit they spewed at him, the ideals they placed on him or the words they shoved into his mouth. Worst yet were how they justified their actions, their own wrong doings in the name of Ground Zero, too pussy to even own up to their own actions. Katsuki hated that as much as he hated liars. 

Besides he didn't ask for all that shit, didn't care. He just wanted to watch the world burn. 

Wanted to set it on fire and Katsuki's philosophy was that anything was kindling. 

That everything is kindling. 

And he thinks he should just ignite the smallest spark despite the quirk "silencing" cuffs and let the letter be devoured by the heat of his palms. 

But the return address catches his eye, the name does. It's familiar in a way he can't quite place yet. Pulling the paper out of the envelope in the meantime. The first thing he notices is the faint almost perfumey smell of coconut from the paper, not from spraying the stationary but as if it were lotion rubbing across the parchment as you wrote in long looping letters, for a moment he finds the smell pleasant. His poisonous bromine eyes slide over the letter with ease. 

Dear Bakugou, 

I heard you don't get letters very often, if any, so I hope this one finds you well. The weather is warming up quickly, the cicadas are starting to scream even though it's barely June, we'll all be sweltering come August. Summer is my favorite season, do you have a favorite? Work slows down around this time and they usually grant us extra leave so we can enjoy the weather, which is quite nice. I hope you're getting to enjoy the sun as well. 

I know cooking is one of your favorite things, I can see why. It can be relaxing or make you feel good to nourish someone else. What other hobbies do you have aside from cooking? Any favorite books or authors? Maybe I can send your favorite one in! Just let me know. 

Do you have everything you need? Do you need any money for commissary? Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything at all, I'm only a letter away. 

Hope to hear from you and maybe soon I can call you Katsuki. 

Much Love

He snorts as he reads the last line and it finally dawns on him from where he knows your name. Lifting himself out of his prison cot with ease, the cheap thing groaning from his bulk as he exits his cell. Heading towards the neighboring cell that holds Deku and Riot, shoving his way into the too cramped space for the bulking men. 

"Ka-kaachan!" Izuku chirps, surprised to see the hot headed blonde out of his cell and especially surprised to see Bakugou in his own. Lingering by Izuku's half with a quirked brow, his eyes roaming until they found the hidden stack of papers. 

"Gonna grab breakfast with us?" Kirishima asks as he watches large hands snatch at the pile. Instantly Izuku stands, eyes darkening as he steps towards Katsuki.

"Put those down, Kaachan." It's that fake polite smile Izuku wears before a fight, the kind that never reaches his eyes and Bakugou doesn't heed the warning, "Please."

It's clipped and now Kirishima thinks to rise, doesn't want either of them to do solitary or to deal with the month long bickering if they do get into a physical fight. 

Katsuki looks over the letters, reading them quickly and appreciating that Izuku is meticulous enough to keep them in chronological order, each one signed off the same way. Much love. 

Such bullshit. 

Izuku shoves Bakugou when he still scowls down at the papers that also smell like coconut. Katsuki drops the letters unceremoniously and Izuku scrambles to keep them from hitting the concrete floor. Bakugou already on Kirishima's side who watches with a confused glare. 

"What are you-" But Kirishima doesn't get to say much else as Katsuki lifts the thin mattress from the metal frame to find the hidden letters. Tucked away safely as if the battle worn villain took comfort in the false words in shiny black ink. 

Same return address, same name, same bull shit sign off. 

"Katsuki!" Kirishima shoves him and the blonde hardly moves, Eijirou's skin half hardening out of habit before he tries to shove again. Katsuki hits his forearm harshly, a soft pop in warning although neither could do too much with the amount of sedation and silencing that came from the collar from around their thick throats. Izuku sans silencing cuffs, has no worries about a part of him being dulled. He was built like an ox with the metabolism of a pubescent teen despite being in his late twenties so sedatives or mood stabilizers hardly have any effect. 

Bakugou tosses the letters onto Kirishima's scratchy blanket before he scoffs. 

"Tsk, believe that bullshit?" He's rolling his eyes as he leaves the cell with nothing but the rustle of paper as they try to rehide what they act like is their dirty little secret. 

God weak hearted fools were so fucking annoying. 

Post through the prison system could take some time, especially when it came to newer exchanges. It could be anywhere between two weeks to two months before you saw a reply from Katsuki. If you got one at all. 

But the thought of his phantom reply slips to the back of your head what with your current workload and the other correspondents so when you see a sealed envelope the prison's return address you think nothing of it. 

Not until you open it to see an open envelope with your address but instead of your name is spelled out Fake Bitch. 

Blinking furiously you pull out the letter, unfolding it quickly to let your eyes scan over the page, each word burning into your retinas.

Piece of shit, 

Such a pathetic fuckin slut, writing any and every desperate man behind bars you think is hot, hopin you'll get a conjugal visit. Already fucked everyone at surface level ya gotta try prison dick? 

Or is it worst than that?  Mommy and daddy didn't love ya enough? Didn't give ya enough attention so you look for it in anyone that'll give ya the time of day? Prey on those with no one to talk to knowing you'd get a reply out of desperation. 

Lickin knives all ya know sweetheart? Pretty fuckin scummy if ya ask me. 

Fuck off and die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

Now you've received your fair share of mean and asshole letters but this? This was different. 

This felt personal. 

It was rule number one you'd given yourself when you were asked to start penning letters while in a shitty place yourself. 

And yet here you were breaking it for some asshat who thought the cityscape was his to destroy. 

Heart ringing in your ears as you try to calm yourself, counting your breaths until you finally could see straight. Penning up something simple yet effective telling yourself that even if he didn't reply it didn't matter. 

You drop it into the mail the next day, two weeks later the same guard is slipping another opened letter under Bakugou's cell door. A snarl to his lip, he didn't expect you to reply and if he was being honest he may have forgotten about you, still the envelope was addressed to his inmate number and no longer is his name written in your cute script. 

While you may think you know everything there is to know about life and me, I'd like to point out your position over mine. 

Last I checked I'm not miles and miles in the ground, under heavy security, among other things a civilian wouldn't be privy to. However I will put it into lame man's terms as it seems your cognitive abilities have declined. 

I'm not the one behind bars, asshole. 

Much Hate

Bakugou clicks his tongue, he was used to the insult, wore it proudly most days but he knew his first letter would go one of two ways.

One, you'd cry when you read it and never replied to him again, which was his hope or two there was a very slim chance he'd get under your skin enough you'd feel the innate need to respond and defend yourself. 

Bakugou does what he does best and burrows further under your pretty skin twirling the pen he finds in the library with ease as he takes to writing out a delicious reply. 

Mail from Tartarus normally came on Wednesday or Thursday as if someone at the facility always forgot to send it out at the beginning of the week. So it became a part of your routine to check your PO Box you set up in a prefecture over in order to preserve your safety should something ever go awry with any of your pen pals or to receive online purchases. Mail day used to be a day you looked forward to, something to help you get through the remainder of your work week but today it was a day you dreaded. 

The excitement from seeing the others' responses in the mail is overshadowed by one particular envelope that slips out of the Manila folder that all of the letters to the same correspondent were sent in to save postage. 

You should be reading Touya's letter or hell anyone else's for that matter, yet here you stood, going for that obnoxious scrawl as he still refused to spell out your name and instead gave you some horrible insult. 

Pathetic Slut

If lying to yourself by writing half ass disingenuine letters to prisoners out of pity makes ya feel like yer changing the world then by all fucking means write away sweetheart. 

Just don't be surprised when you get an asshole response from an asshole behind bars. 

Cause we both know that's what you think of all of us don'tchya? 

Die, 

Bakugou Katsuki 

It shouldn't bother you, it shouldn't burrow so deep into your skin that his inky words scratch at your bones. Like his fingers could dig around in the marrow like maggots yet still it makes your cheeks heat. Makes your eyes burn from frustration and lack of blinking as your palms sweat. 

Soles of your feet burning as you walk further into your apartment to rummage through the drawers of your desk.  Uncaring how things topple over as you furiously grab for a permanent marker, pens and books scattering over the hardwood floors. 

Heart pounding as it resounds through your body like metal striking a bell. Each beat faster, harder than the last until you think your vision starts to ehb at the edges from how much hatred burns away at any of the kindness you built up over the last decade. 

Snapping the marker in half by the time you're done writing your final letter to the asshole. 

FUCK 

YOU 

You don't read it, don't care if it makes it past screening and he never sees it at all. Shoving it into one of your personal envelopes on your desk slapping on a floral postage stamp before stomping down to the express box that sat just outside of your apartment complex. 

It takes a full week for you to calm down, another week to stop thinking about it daily, and one more week to even reply to the letters you got almost a month ago. 

An email comes in from the post office, alerting you to something being placed in your box. You hope it's the new sun dress you bought as retail therapy after a long week and an even bigger bottle of booze that you'd drained. Spending quite a pretty penny on something you didn't even really have an occasion to wear it to. 

More like a nice date, the type of dress you could dress up or down depending on what sorts of accessories you paired with it. 

Taking the train three stops past your own to head into the post office. Turning the key to your decent sized box finding within the metal your promised package. 

And on top of that a familiar manila folder with the return address to Tartarus. 

You grit your teeth, holding onto the mail harder than you should as you take those three long stops back home. Swallowing thickly as you climb your steps, the folder and plastic bag package punctured from your sharp nails as you quickly press in your seven digit key code to get into your apartment and out of the sweltering mid August air.

When your door shuts it closed off the sound of the screaming cicadas and the few crickets that lie in the green space beside your apartment as you try to force yourself to follow your nightly routine. 

Remove shoes, take off makeup, eat, shower, sleep. 

But that damn folder was burning a hole into your fingers as you go to your desk, rocking your chair side to side before you just rip it open like you'd rip off a bandaid. 

This time the letter addresses you in a new way. 

Sweetheart, 

I dare you to come say that shit to my face. You fuckin better show up Saturday other wise I'll let your precious Izu and Eiji know just how much of a fake bitch ya really are. Imagine what it would do to them? Break their hearts I'm sure.  

Ya'd hate to mess with their progress wouldn't ya? 

Don't forget to wear something cute, it'd be nice to see some fat tits in my face at the very least. If a shitty woman like you even owns anything relatively sexy.

Fuck off 

Bakugou Katsuki 

You see red, breathing deeply as you re-read the letter again, who the fuck was this asshole? Black mailing you into visiting him so it wouldn't hurt your other correspondents because Bakugou was so fucking selfish. 

So black out angry you don't seem to wake up, not when you put yourself in that sleek summer sun dress that went to your mid thigh, not when you stare at your angry scowl as you apply light make up, and especially not on the hour drive and then two hour ferry ride to Tartarus. Especially not during the twenty minute descent in a cramped elevator box with a guard in front and behind you with AKs clipped to their chests, the sweltering heat seeping down this low in the ground due to body heat and poor ventilation of the prison. 

Not until the buzzer of the barred door in front of you screams its demands, that the handle was "live" and could be opened by the guard standing in the cage between the hallway that led back to freedom and the other where you could already see toxic bromine burning into your skin. 

This was a bad idea. This was a really fucking bad idea.  

You swallow thickly, it was too late to turn back now wasn't it? The door had already swung shut as the guard came closer to you for one final inspection.

"Dress is kinda short." Katsuki can overhear the guard mumble to you, can see how the guard's fingers twitch and for some reason his own do too. He watches how the guard lingers, how the man's hand press against your body and bunches up your dress as he pats you down a little too roughly. How you bite your lip when the man squeezes your ribs and under the weight of your breasts a little too roughly. 

Katsuki is starting to see red, sweat begins to collect on his brow. He hasn't even fully seen you at least not without an obstructed view but already he can tell he likes what he sees. 

Likes how the dress clings to parts of you you'd favor, the parts you want to really highlight. How the hem flusters higher with each step of your strappy flat shoes.

Loves the scowl that pinches up your cute face when the door buzzes to allow you into the room with him and another six guards. Likes how you straighten your spine as if you've gotten fresh resolve when you come in. 

Looking at him like he was trash and he smirks, like how you don't recoil from him despite how he looks now.  

Plexiglass spit guard with metal framing afixed to his face to keep more than his salvia to himself, more so to keep his gnashing teeth away from people's skin. How his throat is encircled with a thick black collar with a red light set far past stun and closer to kill that would send an electric pulse if he misbehaved but only if they could reach their remote fast enough. 

How the silver cuffs around his thick wrists chain him to the table top, thick forearms exposed from him rolling up his bright orange suit that was harsh on the eyes thanks to the flickering fluorescent lighting overhead. Soft ash blonde hair messy at the top with a self given undercut beneath, iris so bloody red it was as if he was born straight from the calf of Ares himself. 

"Hey Sweetheart." He purrs and his voice is pure sin. 

Pure fucking sin. 

Sending a jolt straight to your clit as his pretty lips curl up into a deadly smirk, showing his sharp canines. 

Bakugou can't contain the feeling of triumph that dances in his veins, purposely egging you on in his letter with the closest Saturday knowing you'd be allowed to come on such short notice. See, most visitors needed to have thorough background checks and intensive mental testing before coming to meet anyone in maximum security five hundred meters below sea level. 

But the conniving blonde knew you were special. 

Knew the warden of Tartarus favored you and would allow you to skip these precautions, especially after what that dumbass thinks you've done. In less than a month of writing to him, that damn Deku finally added Inko-san back to his visiting list, actually came to the visit and cupped her hands. Murmuring on and on that her baby boy with the wavy emerald curls was okay. Inko cried and returned every month since.

No different for Kirishima either, adding Fat Gum, who was like a father figure to him during their shared time at UA, to his visitor list. Surprisingly Taishiro came, still comes, him and Inko car pool together. 

Not even a few heartbeats pass between the two of you before you feel your tongue slicing up the sensitive skin of the roof of your mouth. Of the hard bone of your teeth. 

"Fuck. You." The words drip with sticky poison that even one of the guards behind him flinches but not Bakugou. 

No never Bakugou Katsuki, the Ground Zero himself who leveled a city for the fucking fun of it 

He smiles, both sides of his mouth curling up and it should be disturbing how much he obviously gets off on your frustration, on your hate. But it isn't, it's almost mesmerizing how he looks at you. Like you're something to triumph and conquer, something he wants to keep for himself. 

With that you turn to leave, skirt fluttering from the movement and Katsuki can see the tattoo on your upper thigh, the ink making his mouth salivate as he wonders if he can find any more you've got hidden on that fine body. 

He lunges despite the rattling chains that keep him close to the table, still he has enough leeway to grab onto your arm in one giant hand. Foolishly you try to pull free. 

"Oh come on sweetheart. I've got a whole hour of play time for this. Yer not leaving, sit down." 

His grip on you is tight, his hand big enough to engulf half of your forearm and it gets tighter still. Hot palm making your bones creak from the pressure as he smiles up at you cruelly. All you can do is glare down at him, bore all of your hate where the two of you are connected, his skin feels electric against yours. 

"Ya know, I could probably still blow your arm off." He doesn't bother to say it quietly, chuckles when you look at the quirk silencing cuffs and collar he dons, "They ain't shit against strong quirks." 

Your eyes flash, anger spiking your blood and stupidly you strike. Hand stinging as badly as the tears that come to your eyes and threaten to fall past your lash line. Clawed fingers met with the metal framing of the glass spit guard mask that covers his mouth. Still one of your claws cuts his cheeks and he howls with laughter. 

"Like I said-" He yanks you down harshly, playful tone from his voice gone as your ribs smack into the edge of the metal table, puffs of hot breath fogging the glass of his spit guard, "Sit." 

The awkward angle forces your knees to bend, settling on to the cold metal stool while his warm fingers leave blossoms of black and blue on the skin. As if returning the favor for the cut. 

"I can feel your heart pounding princess,yer pussy throbin this hard too?" He licks his lips, laughs when you lean away from him in disgust, "Ya like it. All sluts play hard to get at first." 

Your eyes flicker to the guards behind him, all six pretend not to notice, panic shoots through your veins and the realization of just how bad of a fucking idea this was settles over you harshly. Like ice water flowing from the nape of your neck.  

He follows your gaze, even cranes his head like he didn't know who was behind him and exactly where they stood. 

"Oh them? They ain't gonna do shit. They're too scared of me. Blew a guy's head off last week." He smiles and one of the guards suddenly finds the floor interesting, "Do ya know how drugged up I am right now baby? How much force these cuffs have to use to bring my quirk down to half power?" 

Choosing not to respond you let your eyes fall back on his handsome face watching it snarl as you ignore him. 

Oh he'd make you see him. 

"What cat got yer tongue now ya scared cause I'm so strong? Invincible?" Your eyes narrow as he speaks the arrogance of this man is far beyond your comprehension. 

"You bleed like every other man." He loves the way you speak, how you wield that sharp tongue. How he wants it pressed and slashing over his own as he's two fingers deep into your tight cunt, moaning into his mouth. 

He brings the thick digits of his free hand parting gift you bestowed upon him. The long thin slash as rough pads bring smeared blood into view so he can lick away the dark red beads. 

"Bloody men are usually the most dangerous, you never know if it's his or that of another's." He lets his hot thumb roll over the cut, cauterizing the small wound hoping it scars. 

Eyes widening as he blatantly uses his quirk as if there weren't armed guards behind him. You're watching his eyes closely as he does and finally you realize what he said is true. There is a dullness to them that was lacking in the raw footage you saw all those months ago. 

Then his eyes were vibrant, sharp and slicing, much more intense then the hazy glare he gives you now. It didn't make him any less of an apex predator. 

Still watching you, recording your small movements and committing your soft skin to his memory as he studies you. 

"Got a quirk?" He grunts out after a moment, after he collects whatever information he was looking for, "I wanna guess first. Manipulation?" 

He smirks at his own joke and you roll your eyes, trying to ignore how his thumb swipes at the underside of your forearm idly. How the motion twists your stomach violently with dizzying emotions. 

Rolling your eyes before you scoff an answer, "No. Besides you expect me to manipulate through what? Ink?" 

"Ya never know. Went to school with some asshole whose quirk was comic book sound effects." He leans back never letting go but now his hand is around your wrist. His fingers twitch when he looks at yours, fights the urge to roughly lace them with his own. 

"Well I don't. Manipulate I mean." You adjust in your seat, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny, "And I won't disclose whether I have a quirk or not." 

"Haaah? Worried I'll like it?" When you don't answer he adds, "Is it compatible with mine?" 

Slowly blinking at him trying not to read into what you think he means. He groans at your silence, the higher dosage of his morning meds finally catching up making him a little lethargic. Taking his edge off when all he wants to do is rise over the crashing wave of the pending high he can barely keep at bay and whisk you out of the depths of hell the two of you currently sit in. 

"So then what? You just used regular words to manipulate them?" He fights back a yawn. 

"Who?" Your ribs still ache from his actions earlier, it doesn't warn you like it should. 

"Don't play fuckin stupid, Sweetheart." He's lurching into your space again, hand moving back over your bruise. It makes your stomach clench when it shouldn't, especially not as the chains rattle against the metal table top, serving as a heavy reminder of the setting of this conversation. 

Still his breath comes in quick puffs as it fogs up the glass again, "Shitty hair. Deku." 

Your brows furrow for a moment, another groan from him. 

"For fucks sake." Light squeeze of your arm as he spits their names, "Fuckin nerdy ass Izuku. Eijirou."

"I can't talk about them." Looking away from his darkened eyes that flash with a fury of emotion.

"Who's stoppin ya? Them?" He tilts his head towards the guards, "I told ya-" 

"B-001174, you have five minutes left for visitation." A voice crackled over an old speaker in the visitation cell, "Please remove your hands from the guest or we will apply force." 

The small light on his collar flashes red and he just smirks, looking up, well above your head. Staring directly at the warden like he knows exactly where he stood behind the two way mirror. 

"Yea? You'll apply force? Go ahead. Nothin but a little shock t' me but t' her? She'll die warden." There is no mirth in his smirk, lips twitching as his eyes are shrouded in dark warning, "And we wouldn't want that would we?" 

The way he speaks sends a chill down your spine, the haze of whatever sedative they had him on is now gone and you're left sitting across from those vibrant radioactive eyes. Burning through the mirror to sear the warden's skin in a threat, a promise. 

A buzz rings out as the seventh guard comes in, he scrunches his nose and it makes his oddly shaped mustache twitch. 

"Miss." He grunts holding out his hand for you to take too close in your personal space for your liking. Slapping it out of your face before following your right arm down to where Katsuki held fast. Peeling off his thick digits with your finely manicured claws. 

He hisses at the loss of contact, glaring at the guard when his hands hover close and the older man is smart enough not to antagonize a literal monster. Katsuki stands suddenly, a scream comes from the bolts securing metal to metal as he rips the table out of the ground, unable to break the chains for now. 

Everyone but Bakugou in the room freezes, guns cocked and aimed at the bulking villain who rose to his full height, sticking his prison issued white shoe onto the seat he just sat on to push down roughly. Thick thigh muscles straining against the fabric of the bright orange pants. A smile to his face when the chains finally snap and he can move his hands more freely before ripping off the plexiglass spit guard letting it clink on to the ground. His large hands run through his hair as if to fix it. 

"I'm entitled to a proper fuckin good bye." He hisses at everyone in the room, they keep their guns aimed at him but make no move to pull any trigger. 

Katsuki stalks closer, a wall of muscle, broad chest and shoulders, slim waist that leads down to powerful legs and you try not to let your breath catch in your throat. 

Try not to let the big bad wolf win by letting him know just how scared you were. Over how impressive it was that he snapped reinforced titanium chains so easily. 

He's well within your arms reach now, so close heat radiates from his chest. 

"I'll see ya soon, Sweetheart." He bids you a final goodbye, waving his fingers that pop with burning caramel explosions. You're not sure why it sets you off, maybe it was the way he wore that stupid smirk on his face, maybe it was the way he demonstrated his power or his dominance in an attempt to intimidate you one last time. 

Maybe it's the way he was arrogant enough to think you'd waste six hours round trip on his ass ever again. 

Either way it makes your temper flair, burrows deep into your subdermis to scarpe at your bones one final time before you unknowingly seal your own fate. Not knowing how his body would react to your parting words. 

"There won't be a next time. I came here for one thing and that was to say fuck you." Delivered with just as much clotting venom as it was before, middle finger held high.

His smirk turns deadly, blowing out a snort as he leans closer as if to share a secret. You can smell the cheap commissary soap that clings to his skin that's starting to lose out to the rapidly building nimbus of smoking caramel that clouds the air as his lips press to your ear.  

"Don't have t'. I'll come to you." He pulls back and winks as you're guided out of the room, glare fixed on him as he stands unbothered. 

He's lying, prisoners lie all the time especially if they think they can get the upper hand. He couldn't come to you. He couldn't escape prison for starters and lastly there was no way in hell he'd ever find out where you lived.  The prison made sure of that by always including a fresh envelope with their own return address in the top left corner, you should know. You only triple checked each time you sealed away the letter, even a fourth time at the post box staring down at the address on the envelope making sure both were correct.

So fuck Bakugou Katsuki for being a dirty liar, fucking hypocrite.

Shoving yourself into an oversized shirt after your body shower you finally get to plop down into bed. Relishing the feel of fresh sheets and blankets as you sigh deeply. It had been a long, long day and no amount of self care could get his toxic blood red eyes out of your head.

Switching on the TV to pull up some show to numb your mind with familiarity when the channel cuts out. Breaking news flashing across the screen makes your body go rigid. 

A prison break from Tartarus has occurred in the late evening hours, several high profile villains are believed to have escaped such as Shigaraki Tomura, Todoroki Touya, aka Dabi, Kirishima Eijirou aka Blood Riot,  Midoriya Izuku aka Deku and Bakugou Katsuki better known as Ground Zero. Please do not approach suspected escapees, please report any suspicious person or activities immediately. Most importantly keep all doors and windows locked at all times. I repeat do not engage with the inmates. 

A knock comes from your left, making you jump out of your skin as you fist the sheets. A cold sweat breaking out over your skin in goose flesh as your hearing rings in your ears. Unable to bring yourself to look at the sliding glass door to your balcony just yet as if you could ignore it and the cause of the sound would simply go away.

Another rapt of knuckles pulls your attention once more before you finally dare to peek to see glowing red eyes peering in. The devil himself at your door and you knew better than to let him in. 

Knew better that a locked door couldn't keep him out. 

Bromine burning in the night like ever fanned flames, orange jumpsuit obnoxiously out of place against the night sky, stained in deep burgundy red and ash grays, the same colors streaking his face before he knocks again. But this time it's in warning, hard enough to rattle the door that you both know he could rip off the track with ease.

"How- how did you?" Teeth chattering that you grit closed still refusing to give in to his tactics until he presses a small envelope against the glass. Your personal envelope with your real home address listed for return. 

Panic bubbles up your throat in a scream that dies at the back of your teeth as you sit frozen a minute longer while he gives a predatory grin, large hands pressing against the glass before his palms glow bright orange. Brighter than his jumpsuit before the glass shatters and your scream finally escapes your lungs. 

In an instant he's towering over you, palms pressing into biting shards as he cages you against the plush comforter dipping his head low so he can nose at your throat, hot palm at your ribs. Leave a searing bite pulling a strangled yelp from your soft lips that makes him laugh before his mouth is at your ear for the second time today. Finally speaking dangerously low.

"Told ya I'd see ya soon, Sweetheart."

His frown deepens—brows upturned and pinched. The scone is discarded onto the table as he crosses his arms and slumps into his chair. You’re used to his melodrama, but the abandoned sweet draws your attention. Nothing gets between Satoru and dessert, not even a temper tantrum.

He’s not giving you his normal wounded puppy routine either. He isn’t invading your space and demanding affection as recompense for some perceived slight. In fact he’s pointedly not looking at you at all. His shock seems real, not just part of his normal antics.

“Why are you acting like a baby? I thought you knew I hated your guts.” It was no secret; anyone who had witnessed you interact as teens knew the hostility you flung in his direction was absolutely genuine.

“Of course you hated me! But…” He stalls, perfect glossy lips pulled into a full pout, “But I thought there was, y’know, rampant teenage sexual tension underneath it all. ‘Are they gonna fight or fuck’ that type of thing.”

You can’t hold back the laugh that escapes you— his grimace grows more pronounced at the sound.

“Absolutely not. I could not have been less attracted to you.” You assure him.

“But because of my personality? You thought I was hot, but a prick, right?” He asks, somehow managing to slump even further into his chair.

“Wrong. You were weird lookin’.” His pained cry sounds disturbingly genuine, but you stand your ground, “You were fifteen, Toru! All limbs and weird proportions. You fell squarely in the wrong part of the uncanny valley.”

“Uncanny valley?!” He wails, throwing his hands in the air.

“Yes!” You hook your foot around the leg of his chair, shifting it so so he has to face you, “Especially with your big ole wet peepers.”

You bracket your eyes with your fingers, pulling your eyelids wide to highlight your point. He huffs and kicks the leg of your chair, sending you sliding back but doing nothing to quell your laughter.

He grabs his scone off the table, finishing it off in two bites as he stands from his chair. You watch as he stomps off to your bedroom—amused but more than a little confused.

It’s clear that he’s actually upset, but you have to take a moment to decide how you feel about his reaction to something as silly as this. Were you really about to have to console your lover because he had the devastating realization that you hadn’t always thought he was hot?

Sighing, you start to clean up the remnants of your mid morning snack. Having Satoru as a partner was rarely typical. Admittedly it was easier than you ever would have believed before you started this journey with him, but there were moments like this that forced you to remember how strange Satoru really was.

Strange is maybe too unkind a word. He’s…singular.

And you loved that about him, so you put your presuppositions aside and head to your bedroom to make sure the love of your life isn’t suffering unduly.

Spread out on your mattress—ankles crossed, hands tucked behind his head, he looks like a displaced god. Only he could manage to look otherworldly while wearing joggers and a tee shirt. At the very least you know your current attraction to him isn’t in question. You’ve told him on more than one occasion that he’s so pretty you sometimes have to focus on his ears while talking to him in order to maintain your train of thought.

You climb into bed and tuck your body next to his, placing a few chaste kisses to the underside of his unfairly sharp jaw. The tension bleeds from him slightly.

“Satoru, I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” You complain, “You know for a fact you’re the most beautiful person literally anyone has ever seen or will ever see.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his frown remains. In the fifteen years you’ve known the man next to you, you’ve learned a thing or two about him. The most surprising of which was the deep well of anxiety that simmered in his chest.

Satoru is the king of superlatives: strongest, fastest, most handsome. Generally people forget that he’s also the smartest, as loath as you may be to admit it. His brain perpetually fired on all cylinders, taking the unimaginable amount of sensory input he receives from his curse technique and distilling it into actionable conclusions.

Ceaseless thoughts, ceaseless calculations, ceaseless worry.

You watch as his eyes dance across the ceiling.

“Hey,” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you, “Penny for your thoughts, blue.”

The nickname smooths some of the tension in his brow, but he still looks too pensive for your liking.

“I hate being wrong about you.” He admits quietly, “I’m never wrong about you. I know you.”

“Now you do,” You correct him, “why are you surprised you came to the wrong conclusion about fifteen year old me?”

He makes a quiet noise of frustration.

“I know I’m arrogant.” He continues despite your amused huff at his admission, “But I’m not as bad as I used to be.”

“No.” You agree, “I certainly wouldn’t be here if you were.”

His hand moves from its place behind his head down to your hip, pulling you in, not pleased by even the hypothetical of you not being by his side. You acquiesce easily, letting yourself go pliant just the way he likes.

The mood shifts again, like your presence filled one of the unknown variables in his mental calculus. He places a few chaste kisses on your forehead and finally relaxes fully.

“It just sucks to realize I held on to an incorrect assumption all this time. Makes me worry I got more important stuff wrong, too.” Long fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt, “Plus you totally nerfed the narrative I had about us. I thought we’d been secretly pining for each other for years.”

“Nope.” You pop the P for effect, “Sorry, bud. There was zero pining on my end of things until our 20s, which, I might add, does mean we still pined over each other for years.”

Satoru releases a dramatic sigh, “It’s not the same.”

“Boo hoo, blue.” You slap his pec lightly.

“You’re gonna be the one cryin’. You know I’m never gonna let this go. I plan on being completely insufferable about this.” He threatens.

“Aw, did baby blue get his feelings hurt?” You swing a leg over his hips, settling astride your pouting husband, “Need me to kiss it better?”

He nods shamelessly, arms reaching out for you, “I’m inconsolable, but do your best, I guess.”

The sky was dark and gray. Casting shadows along the dark walls of your home, the threat of a rainstorm on the horizon.

With a tired yawn, you make your way to the kitchen, an automatic response to still being tired. You fuss with the coffee maker throwing the pod of expensive coffee into the top and pulling down your favorite mug.

“Instead of caffeine, why don’t you lay back down for a while?” Izuku suggests following you into the kitchen.

“Can’t. I have reports I need to go through.” You sigh, turning around to look at him.

He rested against the island counter, folding his arms across his chest. His hair was a little messy because he rolled out of bed and threw on clothes instead of fixing his hair. But you expected no less. He was always the type to do everything last minute.

“Those can wait. Plus, we have friends coming over tonight.” He says with a lazy smile.

Like the thought of having people over was going to light a fire under your ass to overcome the tiredness that was lingering.

“That’s fine. I’ll probably end up going to bed early tonight, anyway.” You say softly.

“No!” He almost squeaks and waves his hands in front of him. “You have to be there. Kacchan has some friends coming over, and Shinso said he would make an appearance.”

“You don’t really want me there, do you?” You laugh. “I’m not exactly the life of the party anymore.”

“They wanna meet you! Well, re-meet you.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You met them once when we were in school.”

“Are you sure you want me there? I can do a quick intro and leave. I don’t want to invade your time with your friends!”

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you, all the while shooing you out of the kitchen.

“We want you there. They want you there. Stop trying to make it seem like you are unwanted.”

OK, maybe for the evening you could indulge them a little and hang out with their friends. Because, to be honest, it had been a while since you did anything fun with other people that would qualify as social interaction.

“Ok, I’ll just take a nap for a while then.” You say as he ushers you further down the hall to your bedroom.

“Atta girl! Now I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so you rest. I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

He finally stops pushing you just as you make it to your bedroom door. Turning around, he has a silly smile on his face and you can’t help but match it with a tired one of your own.

“Go, get your work done.” You say, trying to shoo him away, but he catches your hand and pulls you to him.

“Bossy today, aren’t we?” His smile widens before he leans down and plants a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

Taking his time to linger for a few moments before he pulls away. Walking backward, down the hall. You wait as you hear the front door open and shut behind him, letting you know he made his departure. Sighing softly before a loud yawn wrecks through you.

Turning towards your room, you quickly rummage around your top drawer and find a suitable tank-top. Peeling off your hoodie and bra before shoving the thin top over your body. Almost threadbare from age, but it was just too worn in and comfortable to throw away. Tiny holes adorned various parts of it, just another sign of its age. The cute little pale Grey color did little to hide what was underneath.

Pushing your leggings off your body, you make quick work of discarding them into the laundry hamper on the other side of the room.

And as you look over at your perfectly made and comfortable bed, you can’t force yourself to lie in it. Because your mind relives what Katsuki told you last night on the phone.

His bed was wide open and waiting for you.

He wouldn’t mind, you know he wouldn’t. And there was no telling when he might finally be home. Plus, his pillows were the best.

With it decided, you shuffle yourself out of your room and down the hall, forcing your eyes to stay open just long enough for you to crawl into his bed. Pulling the covers back just enough to crawl underneath them and let them fall over your body.

Scooting to the middle, you arrange his pillows in the way you want them. Grabbing the one he normally sleeps with and hugging it against your body.

His familiar and warm scent surrounds you as your body no longer has to fight off sleep. The soft Egyptian cotton sheets soothe your tired bones. The overwhelming smell of sugar and spice mix together to envelop you in comfort.

Finally, back in a familiar place, waiting for your boys to make it back home.

And when you finally stir from your slumber, you feel an overwhelming heat radiating on your back. Almost too much to be under a blanket any longer. But when you tried to move, you felt an arm tighten its grip on your waist, pushing its fingers into the soft skin of your stomach.

Turning your head just a bit allowed you to see the person that was snuggled up to your body. A wild mane of ash blonde hair poking up gave it away. His eyes were still closed, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep.

“Suki, you’re burning me up.” You softly groan.

He only grunts and pulls you tighter to his chest, burying his face in your neck. But you couldn’t make yourself pull away from him. He was soft and comfortable to lie with. Holding you tight enough to keep you secure against his chest, but still giving you enough room to breathe.

“Gotta get up.” He grumbles, still unwilling to pull himself away from you.

“Yeah.” You yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “You gotta let go first.”

It was like that fact hadn’t yet crossed his mind, still refusing to let you go quite yet. But you did manage to stretch and turn in his grasp. His strong arm was now slung over your hip, his hand grazing the fat of your ass.

He had finally opened his eyes to watch yours blink back to life. A small smirk splayed on his lips as he glanced over your features. In the back of your mind, you didn’t quite grasp the concept that this wasn’t something normal people did with friends.

This just felt soft, normal, almost like this was right where you were meant to be. Snuggled up in Katsuki’s arms, willing your body to life again. You can’t help but meet his smile with one of your own, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

He always managed to somehow look so handsome, even as the shadows of the fading sun shielded you from most of his features. His eyes still shined like two rubies set in an onyx sky, his faint freckles were like dying stars, still burning despite their fading light.

This came easily, the love you had for them. Effortless, almost like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could spend eternity in this feeling.

“Missed you brat,” He says, finally turning his head and placing a kiss on your palm.

“It was one day you couldn’t have missed me that much.” You poke at him playfully.

He ignores your words, for the most part, rolling his eyes at you.

“You need a shower.” He says instead. Finally, moving his arm and rolling out of bed.

His rude words were more than enough to ruin your blissful nap and make you scrunch up your nose at him.

“Are you saying I stink?” You ask, offended, sitting up in his bed.

He just nods his head towards the bathroom like he was giving you a silent order.

“You smell like fucking Deku.” He says, insinuating that Izuku’s smell bothered him. “You still have an hour before anyone shows up, so you better hurry, princess.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were jealous.” You smirk at him as you climb out of bed.

The retort he has died in his throat, though, as he looks at you. You don’t bother to look at him as you walk past, set in your room to retrieve fresh clothing.

His hand catches your arm before you are able to make it past him, pulling you into his embrace. His eyes were closed, and you could see he was thinking extremely hard about what he was trying to say.

You turn your head, a little confused by his actions. Normally he was matching your energy beat for beat, but right now, he almost seemed like he was struggling to take a single breath. His cheeks tinted the most perfect rosy color.

“That’s not where the shower is.” He says softly.

“I need clothes. I don’t think you want me to meet your friends wet and naked, do you?” You laugh softly, but can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs at your words.

Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. He seemed like he was uncomfortable now.

“Just get in the fucking shower. I’ve got something for you to wear.”

Great, whatever good feeling you had, you managed to ruin with your stupid thoughts.

“Ok.” You almost whisper and turn to walk toward the bathroom.

You don’t dare to turn and spare a glance at him as you shut the door gently behind you. Letting your body move on autopilot as you turn on the shower and start to strip out of your clothes.

At least by the time you step into the shower, it’s nice and hot, melting away your worry about anything that you had said. The strong water pressure is more than enough to wash away what you may have said to set Katsuki’s mood to sour.

You tried not to let it bother you, but it still was. The only problem was that you really had no idea what may have set him on the path to a bad mood. Sure, it was a bad joke, but you didn’t think he would take it so poorly.

Maybe you were just overthinking it. But he seemed like he was in a decent mood when you first woke up. A small creak in the door alerted you to the fact that you had company.

Turning your head, you catch the ash blonde’s tall bulking body. His eyes cast down to the floor, not looking at you as he walks a small pile of clothes over the counter next to the sink.

If it weren’t for the steam covering most of the glass, you would have been on edge of having him so close to you, but your body was shielded by the thick coating of condensation on the glass partition of the shower stall.

“Thank you, Suki.” You say softly.

And sliding the door open enough to stick your head through, you give him a small smile.

His ears and cheeks were tinted with a light dusty rose that extended down his neck. His eyes snap up to meet yours for just a moment. Refusing to look anywhere else, he gives you a quick nod and leaves.

The commotion in the living room was an unexpected twist to the normal peace of the house. Loud voices and even louder personalities beckon you toward them. It was a pleasant surprise once you rounded the corner and walked into the living room.

A small group of six people gathered around various places in the kitchen. Some pink girl with pink hair, a guy with protruding elbows, and that massive red-haired guy that Katsuki called ‘shitty hair’! You even catch a glimpse of the purple-haired guy from yesterday.

These were all somewhat familiar faces that you remember.

Making your way through the small army of people you find, Izuku leaned back against the counter in the kitchen. His hand rested on the smooth marble as he was talking to the purple-haired man.

“Thought you might have fallen back asleep on us, angel.” He jokes as you join him at his side.

But you just smile and reach for the drink halfway lifted to his mouth. Pushing the red cup to your lips and taking a large swig of the amber liquid. He raises his eyebrow at you in amusement as you drink.

Much to your distaste, it happened to be whisky. Good things never happen to you when you drink whisky.

But they both laugh at you when you pull the cup from your face. Your face distorts into a look of disgust as you feel the liquid fire slip down your throat.

“You really drink this stuff?” You ask half disgustedly but laugh.

But he only chuckles with you and takes his cup back from you, making a show of downing the rest of the liquid sloshing in his cup. Using his thumb to swipe a rogue dribble of alcohol as it slides down from the corner of his mouth, making sure to keep his eyes on you. Watching the way you follow the tiny drop of liquid as it tries to trail down his chin.

“I prefer the taste of something sweeter, but this will do for now,” He says implying something that you weren’t sure you were ready to hear come from his mouth.

But before you had the chance to pick apart, just what his words might mean, Shinso, who had been watching the short interaction, decided to step in.

“I bet you do Midoriya. You gonna hog her all night, or do we get to talk to her?” He smiles as he speaks to him, but turns his eyes towards you.

And God, you had to admit, getting a good look at him; he was attractive. The lavender hair, and the tired eyes, even the little stubble gracing his chin. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks the more you stare at him.

At Least you didn’t feel guilty for finding him cute, unlike the one-sided crush you were developing for your childhood friends.

“By all means.” His eyes roll playfully.

Shinso is quick to guide your attention away from Izuku. A playful smirk graced his lips.

“So tell me about yourself?” He says casually, before handing you a drink.

It was in one of the fancy little crystal cups that sat on a shelf far too high for you to be able to reach without the stool. Even for your height, this home wasn’t built with you in mind. Both of your loveable roommates were easily twice your size and had an arm span you could only dream of.

With the all clear from Izuku, you were whisked away towards the living room, where the other guests you had yet to meet were lounging about.

Excited eyes meet you as you are led in their direction. Stopping their conversations just so they could give you a proper introduction.

You met them all in a blur, each one excited to meet the person who had taken up so much time with their friends. Mina, Sero, Jiro, Denki, and Kirishima.

You would definitely remember his name now that you actually knew what it was!

You were pulled into every conversation as if you had known these people most of your life. Asking your opinions on various topics, ranging from if you should shower from the top of your head down all the way to if heroes were even still doing anything to protect the world anymore.

For that topic, you didn’t have much to go on. But the only thing you could add was how working they all seemed to be, dedicated to a job that put their lives in danger every day. And for people to still critique them when it wasn’t enough.

They were still just people at the end of the day.

“All I’m saying is that how fast would the world crumble if heroes just disappeared tomorrow?” The Golden blonde asks, taking another sip of his fruity drink.

“You Always do this when you're drinking, Denks. Can we not have a good time for once?” You hear Sero roll his eyes at the question.

“I’m just saying!” He whines after he swallows the mouthful of liquor from his glass.

“And I’m telling you to shut the fuck up!” Katsuki barks from the kitchen before he has a chance to start the rant up once more.

“He’s so aggressive.” Denki can’t stop himself from mumbling under his breath, making you giggle when Katsuki no doubt hears him.

Watching the interaction as Denki adverts his eyes away, and you hear a growl come from the kitchen. You were being handed drink after drink, and each one felt stronger than the last. You weren’t sipping on whiskey anymore, but something fun and fruity. The ice gently clinked in your cup the longer you stood around and listened to the conversations going on. Every so often you were doing a shot or two with the group, and taking them all like a champ.

“Hey, I know what we can do,” Denki yells like he was struck with the most genius idea ever.

“Yeah? What’s going through your noggin bud?” Sero asks him innocently.

“Let’s play some drinking games! Ya know, like we ones, we never got to play in school!”

The way he said it made it seem like they were all taught in the basement of a school rather than an actual school designed to produce heroes. Of course, there would be no time for drinking or teenage recklessness when you were training to become a pro.

“What are you, fifteen?” Sero chuffs.

“Oh, come on, it could be fun! When was the last time we were all together like this? Plus, we have a new girl here so we can get all the juicy details about Kacchan and Deku.!”

His sneaky smile was anything but reassuring, but you knew you were in trouble the moment you heard Katsuki chuckle from the kitchen. Stopping his conversation with Kirishima long enough to cast a glance at the other blonde before his eyes flick to yours, a wicked smile on his face.

“Ya know what dunce face? That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”

“See, at least, someone agrees with me!” He smiles viciously.

Katsuki, on the other hand, had that look. It was the same look he reserved for when he was absolutely out to roast the ever-living hell out of someone, and all you could do was hope that he wouldn’t direct his remarks at you.

He almost Saunders out of the kitchen and once he makes it to Denki’s side, he claps a hand down his shoulder, earning a slight wince from the shorter male.

“I’m sure princess here would love to know about your raging piss kink.”

Out of respect for your newfound friends, you try to cover your mouth in an attempt to stop the giggle in your throat from erupting. It did little to actually stop it. Watching his mouth open and close, while his brain tried to process what was just said.

But thankfully, you weren’t the only one who was laughing. The entire room had joined you, even the flushed-faced and slightly intoxicated Denki had joined in.

As much as they claimed to be reluctant to play, you all gathered around the living room. Denki and Sero shared one of the large chairs while the rest of you gathered around on the couch. Izuku sat next to Shinso, while Katsuki and Kirishima sat next to each other on the couch. Mina and Jiro share a cushion on the far end.

You look around for a space that wouldn’t take up much room, and unfortunately find that the area was going to be cramped no matter where you sat. Deciding the floor was an option, you go to grab one of the small cushions off the couch and place it down. You would still have the back of the couch to use as support while you sat, so hopefully, your back wouldn’t be screaming at you in an hour or so.

But before you even make it halfway down, a set of hands shoot out and grab you, quickly pulling you into a lap. Turning your head to the side, you see the smiling face Izuku gave you as he secured you in his lap, one arm lazily wrapped around your waist. He acted like the added weight didn’t affect him in the slightest.

“What are you doing?” You ask flustered. You could feel the way the heat was rising to your face at his actions.

“I’m not letting you sit on the floor.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“I’m too heavy for this!”

He ignored your protests in favor of raising his cup back to his mouth with a small smirk gracing his lips. And if any of his friends were confused by the scene, they definitely didn’t let it be known. Each of them still happily carried on independent conversations around the living room. It was only until everyone had a new cup filled almost to the brim with a heavy and dark mystery liquid did anyone bother to focus on the fact Denki had been trying to initiate this party game.

You had to admit that for it to be such a childish game; it turned out to be a lot of fun. Just a simple game of truth or dare had resulted in Sero streaking through the house in the hopes that his latest sext wasn’t sent to his mother. Of course, you shielded your eyes from the sight of this tall and skinny man streaking down the hall; it was rude to stare but you couldn’t stifle the fit of giggles that the liquor in your cup had encouraged you to let out all night.

You knew in the back of your mind that drinking this heavily during the middle of the week was going to spell bad news for you once the sun rose in the morning, but for now, you couldn’t find an actual reason to care. The heavy flow of alcohol invades your senses, making the world around you fuzzy and warm. You probably would have fallen over and passed out already if a strong arm wasn’t holding you so close. Thick fingers dug gently into your waist as Izuku laughed behind you.

“So, who’s next?” Mina asks, looking around the small group before her eyes catch yours. “You still haven’t had a turn yet!” she points to you with a drunken wave of her finger.

It was true. You had so far managed to keep your head out of the party antics long enough that you had all but faded into the couch, propped up by a strong arm and sinking into the heat from Izuku’s body.

“No, no, I’m ok!” you slur your words a little trying to convince her that you didn’t need to have a turn.

“You’re not getting out of it that easy,” Shinso says, and it takes you a moment to process exactly where his voice had come from. A delayed reaction as your head finally catches up with your hearing and turns to face the lavender-haired man smirking next to you.

“Truth or dare?” You hear Izuku ask from behind you.

Of course, he was only making the situation worse for you. He knew just how easy it was to get you flustered, especially when you were around new people. Your tipsy mind has to debate for a moment on if you really wanted to play.

A dare was out of the question if the previous dares were anything to go by. There was no way you were willing to strip down and run around the house, or call your ex and ask him to take you back.

But at the same time, you had no clue what they would ask you if you said the truth. It was awkward enough opening up about the things you felt comfortable sharing, let alone the things you didn’t want to see the light of day.

You always had the option to take another shot, but you feel the way your stomach turns at the thought of more liquor hitting your system.

“Truth.” You finally mumble and you can’t help but watch as the small crowd smiles at your answer.

“Well, since you got it out of her, it’s your question, Midoriya.” The lavender-haired man smirks at his friend behind you.

You feel the arm around your waist tighten as he laughs softly, going over his options as to what he could ask.

“Who was the last person you kissed?”

The way it rolled off his tongue so smoothly made you want to run and hide. His fingers dig into the fat of your hip, as he adjusts you on his lap. There was a lump in your throat as you mull over if you wanted to tell the truth or not.

If you said it was Izuku, then the entire room would know that you had shared a kiss yesterday. Was this his way of getting back at you gorgeous pushing him so far yesterday?

He refused to give you enough room to turn around and look at him, but you could almost feel the heat of his smirk burning a hole in the back of your head.

“I-uh.” You stutter and fail to force the words to come out.

Glancing around the room quickly, you see that all eyes were on you, each set waiting with a need to know your personal information.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” Shinso coos after a long sip from his drink. “Has it been that long?”

If only he knew the truth.

You couldn’t just admit that to the entire room. These were people who were friends with your friends. The last thing that you needed was for them to judge the fact that you had bullied one of your best childhood friends into kissing you barely even twenty-four hours ago.

Leaning forward, you quickly grab the shot glass that was on the table, downing the amber contents with a grimace. It burned all the way down until you felt it pooling in your stomach, your face twisting up into a sour look as you sit the glass back down.

Since you had taken your shot, it was now your turn to ask the dreaded question. The only problem is you didn’t know who to pick. It was too easy to pick Katsuki or Izuku since you already knew so much about them.

But Shinso, on the other hand, was starting to look more and more interesting by the minute. Not to mention now, Izuku deserved a little bit of payback for trying to embrass you.

“Truth or dare?” You ask him with a little boost of confidence from the alcohol.

“Truth.”

“Would you hook up with anyone in this room?” You ask with a smile.

It wasn’t that you were suddenly curious about his ability to have a one-night stand, but you couldn’t deny the thought of sharing your king-sized bed with him for a while wasn’t inciting just a little bit.

“I already have,” He laughs before darting his eyes up at you. “But if you’re asking if there is anyone else here, I could think of a person or two.” He says, winking at you.

“Who have you hooked up with?” You blurt out, even though the turn was over.

You couldn’t help but glance around the room at the other people here, curious as to who he had a steamy encounter with.

“Maybe next turn.” He says simply before turning his attention to the grumpy blond sitting next to you.

“Truth fuckface.” He barks smugly before Shinso even had the chance to ask what he wanted.

“Do you like your hookups, younger or older?” He asks with a smirk.

The question had your inebriated mind perking up to hear his answer. Because It was something that had been on your mind as well. But the look on his face made your heart jump a little at the sight.

His cheeks dusted pink, the tips of his ears poking out from beneath his hair painted the same color. It was almost like the question caught him off guard. His eyes dance from Shinso to you with the tip of his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, before returning to focus on the lavender-haired man close by.

“The fuck does it matter?” He barks after a moment of internal debate.

But that only causes Shinso’s smile to widen, happy with the response even if it wasn’t a direct answer.

“What about you, Midoriya?”

“Well, I’ve only fooled around with people my age, but I can’t say I would mind someone a bit more mature.” He lets the words fall so casually from his mouth, that you would think he was talking about the weather.

The thought sparks a flame in your gut that convinced you he was directing his confession for you. As foolish as it seemed, you wanted it to be true. To get some kind of relief knowing you weren’t going crazy over these two. Maybe your crush wasn’t so one-sided after all.

But before you can even try to turn around, Izuku’s arm is holding you in place, forcing you to lean further back into him. His chest resting against your back, his face hidden just enough so you couldn’t see him.

“What about you, pretty? Ever thought about finding someone younger?”

You felt their eyes on you in an instant. All of them are waiting to hear your response. A set of sleepy devilish eyes watching you squirm. Wide crimson ones, leaning in slightly to hear your answer. And of course, the emerald ones who you knew for a fact you could confuse with actual gems hiding from you.

“I, uh” You were feeling shy yet again, with a quick glance around the room. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought?” You finally reply, a bit slurred.

And it was a bold-faced lie.

Even in your drunken state, you couldn’t lie to yourself about it. More often than not, since you had moved in, the thought of maybe getting more intimate with your housemates was slowly becoming more appealing.

They made it so easy to want to, after all.

From the gentle touches and praise they offered you. By the way, they were always willing to indulge your somewhat spoiled behavior. The way their hands fit so perfectly holding yours, and the lingering stares you thought you caught a time or two. From the way their personalities fit so well with yours to the willingness to share everything they had with you.

But you had to shake the thoughts out of your head right now. It wasn’t going to do you much used to dwell on the fact that it would never happen.

All Shinso offers you is a smirk and the room slowly starts to move again. The people around you getting up and leave for a while, and coming back. But the four of you never left the comfort of the living room. And you were more than happy to sit back and listen to the game continue on without your involvement. Taking another shot when it was offered and enjoying the silly game that had been abandoned by the rest of the group.

That was until you noticed the way Shinso keeps glancing at you. Each time you shifted or moved, his eyes were glued to some part of your body. It wasn’t unwelcomed, but you also started to notice the grunts and sighs coming from your side. Looking over, you could easily tell that Katsuki was getting more pissed off by the second. His fists clenching at his hip as he stared daggers at the Shinso.

And Izuku kept you pinned in his lap with a strong arm draped over you. Seemingly ignoring the building tension in the living room. All too happy to hand you another drink that had been offered to him. Helping you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder while he poured the mixed drink into your mouth. His thick fingers ghosting over your neck, and whispering soft praises each time you managed to drink it all.

Everything felt so delayed and fuzzy. Making your body hot in the process. If you didn’t stop soon, then you were going to regret every life choice you had ever made. And the fact that the alcohol was making it so easy to let your mind wander was starting to become a real problem. Wishing desperately that you could somehow ease the tension that was building up inside of you.

The only thing that managed to pull you out of your drunken daze was the sound of a loud growl from Katsuki as you hear Shinso’s sultry voice ask another question.

“How well do you know your friend here?” He asks, eyes dancing along your figure as you try to make sense of their conversation.

“Well enough.” Katsuki snaps quickly, letting his eyes trail to yours, and the way you were happily curled up in Izuku’s arms. Appreciating the same view as Shinso had been most of the evening.

“Is she single?”

Katsuki barks a laugh, but you could see the way his eyes locked onto Shinso, almost daring him to ask the rest of his question. “Not for you.”

They were having some kind of fight that you couldn’t fully understand. Why all of the sudden were all the questions about you? You were just supposed to be a fly on the wall, not the main attraction.

“Feeling a little protective, are we?” Shinso says with a curious smirk. “I wonder why that is?”

It wasn’t often that you got to witness someone get under Katsuki’s skin so easily. Forcing you to watch on with a horrible fascination, mixing with the heat from the alcohol in your system. Your mind was fuzzy as to what the real reason for their debate even was.

Looking around, you notice the others had slowly started to scatter around, no longer in the circle around the couch. Your vision is a little dizzy as you try to find all of their locations. Two of them were in the kitchen, and it looked like Sero and Denki were already passed out on the other couch.

“It’s none of your fucking business,” he growls, working his way closer to you, his hand landing on your thigh in a small show of protection from Shinso.

“Why?” you ask with a slur to your question.

“Yeah, why is that Bakugou? Why don’t you enlighten us?”

Why was Katsuki so dead set on keeping you away from him? Was he really going to cockblock you right now? Especially after the mess you have been dealing with in your personal life.

Turning your head back to him, he gives you the most confused look ever. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open at the boldness of your question.

He growls as his eyes narrow in on the sleepy-looking pro, his smile turning more mischievous as the seconds pass.

“M’not doing this shit.” He barks, agitated, before standing from the couch and pulling you from Izuku’s lap. All but dragging you away from the other two men who were still lingering on the couch. Your game of truth or dare forgotten as he leads you to his bedroom.

“Where are we going?” you ask with a small, drunken giggle.

Even as he takes you to his bedroom, huffing the entire time, he doesn’t answer you. Not until he has you sitting on the edge of the bed, with a look that told you not to push his patience.

Staying still was harder than you thought it would be tough.

“Is he a bad guy?” you ask, following his shadow in the bathroom.

Even as you tried to focus on the way he moved around the room. Pulling clothes from the dresser, your vision would sway slightly. Causing double of your blond protector to pop up before he morphed back into a single being.

You drank way too much, but you still can’t help but keep your thoughts to yourself as Katsuki walked back over to you, handing you a shirt before he heads into the bathroom.

You could hear the sound of water running and things being moved around. You can’t even keep track of how long it has been since you have been sitting here, but it feels like an eternity by yourself like this. And when Katsuki comes back into the bedroom, shirt gone, and a wet cloth in his hand, he stalks in your direction until he reaches where you sit. Looking at you for a moment before he bends to kneel in front of you.

“He likes to start shit, but he isn’t a bad guy,” he says less angrily, taking a gentle hand to your face as he wipes at you with the warm cloth.

“Then why did you tell him I wasn’t single?”

The question still lingers in the air as he drops the cloth to the floor and goes to grab your top.

“Lift,” he orders softly, and you follow his request with a small pout.

If he was keeping his eyes to himself, you couldn’t really focus enough to tell. But he worked quickly to strip you of your clothes and push the shirt he got for you over your head. Letting it fall gently around your waist. He helps you stand long enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down and guiding you to sit back on the bed.

He takes to stripping himself after he has you sit back down. Crawling your way to the top of the bed and move under the covers, Laying almost perfectly in the middle. Your head cradled between the pillows, and the blanket pulled up to your chin. Your eyes follow his body as he moves. The way his muscles flex as he pulls his shirt off, showcasing more of those well earned scars scattered along his chest and back.

Even with the scars, he was still so handsome.

Sharp edges, and muscles fitting of a god. A boisterous attitude and outlook on life. Someone who had the world at his feet, and yet he spent his precious free time with you. Hauling you off from a small party like some old maid.

Sober, you was a completely different person than who you were at this moment. Because sober you would definitely not be letting your thoughts wander as deep as they were going. The longer you watched him peel off layer after layer of clothes, you felt yourself sinking further into the bed to hide your staring.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” You ask out of the blue.

The question had been plaguing you for the better part of your life. In all the time you have known both of your boys, neither one had ever mentioned a girlfriend or brought someone home to meet the family.

You knew their jobs didn’t keep them away from having a social life, so was it just a personal choice for them?

Katsuki stiffens at your question, his back turned to you as his sweats hang halfway around his ass.

“Don’t need one.” He answers you after a moment, almost like he debated if he wanted to tell you or not.

“Or a boyfriend! You know I’m not going to ju-“

“Will you shut the hell up?” He barks, turning back around to finally look at you. His cheeks were tinted red, eyes wide like you were catching on to something. “The hell is with all the questions tonight?”

He walks his way over to the side of the bed he uses most often and sits down to look at you. Making you feel the need to hide even more from his intense gaze.

“I don’t know, it’s just I’ve never seen you bring anyone home or even mention dating.”

Unless he had been hiding a secret relationship for years, he had never even mentioned having someone else in his life.

“I’ve got my fucking hands full with you and Deku. I don’t have time for anyone else.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, sitting up clumsily.

But he turns and works his way up the bed, pushing you back down into the sheets. Laying down next to you and swinging an arm over your waist. He doesn’t answer you for a while, content to lie next to you in silence.

The amount if alcohol was finally winning against you. Your world slowly grows more dim as each minute passed. Your eyes tired as you enveloped yourself in the heat that Katsuki radiated, keeping you snug against his side.

For the second time today, you find yourself cuddled up with the angry blond, though you couldn’t find it in you to complain. Just like with Izuku, it felt like second nature to be near them. Arms and legs tangled together under the soft blankets.

“Do you think I’m pretty Suki?” You ask in a sleepy haze.

It was a dumb question, drunk you knew it was. But that wasn’t going to stop you from asking it right now. The way things had played out weird tonight had you feeling off, self conscious even.

“Why are you askin’ me shit you already know the answer to?” He says with a yawn, adjusting himself to lie snugly behind your body.

You hated it when he tried to answer your question with another question.

“Truth or dare?” You finally ask him when he stops shifting around in bed.

“Really?” He huffs at you, annoyed by your antics. It takes him a moment before he finally replies. “Truth.”

It felt like you had a million questions you wanted to ask him. Like why he never brought anyone around, or was he hooking up with someone you hadn’t met before? Why was it so easy for Shinso to rile him up?

“Who was your first love?” You ask instead.

If he wanted to ignore all your other questions, there was no way he could this one. With just the two of you, and the darkness in the room, you were hoping he would find a little bit of solace and open up. It was just you, after all. He had no reason to keep up the hard persona.

“Yer’ gonna fuckin make fun of me.” He gruffs, lifting his head from your shared pillow to look over at your face.

There was just enough light shining in from between the curtains to still see each other. Painted in a blue hue, the world seemed to slow down for you both.

“When have I ever made fun of you, Suki?” You ask with a small giggle, turning your head to look back at him.

“Yesterday.” He deadpans, and it makes you laugh.

“Ok, but seriously. Who was it?” You ask after you calm down a little.

Out of all the things you knew about both of them, this was something new for you. They never shared these kinds of intimate details with you. Hell, you didn’t even know if they shared them with each other. But something was nagging you to keep probing at him.

“You couldn’t just ask me if I had any weird kinks or some shit?” He mumbles and gets you caught up in another fit of drunken giggles.

He took his chance in the moment of calm to lie back down and pull your body on top of his. Wrapping his arms around your waist and hoisting you to lie across his body, holding you in place as you try to free yourself.

“Suki!” You can’t help but yelp a little as he moves you around.

Something close to a low chuckle falling from his lips as you squirm around. Finally, letting his arms fall back from your waist and grab your hips, keeping you steady as you push yourself to straddle his waist. One hand on his chest to help you stay upright while the other held onto one of his wrists.

The alcohol in your system was making you feel things. The soft beating of your heart picking up when you lock eyes with his soft ones. Almost black due to the darkness, but the sliver of light pouring in from the gap in the curtain was hitting his face just right. Giving you the pleasure of seeing the way he looked so relaxed with you on top of him. His hand firmly locked onto your hip, his fingers softly kneading the joint of your hip and leg.

No longer able to keep up the tough persona he had with everyone else, he didn’t need to when it came to you.

You knew in the back of your intoxicated little brain that this wasn’t something friends did, but that thought was quickly washed away by the way your stomach flutters.

He was so handsome like this.

You’ve had him wrapped around your finger since the beginning. He trusted you to feel his emotions and ride the wave with him. You understood that what he said didn’t always equate to what he really meant. How his anger was just a cover for his more vulnerable side.

But moments like earlier when you woke up wrapped up in his arms, you both were so calm and content with your life at the moment. And even now he is looking up at you like you were the answer to every question he had.

“What’s going through that mind of yours, sweetheart?” He asks, moving so he could lace his fingers with your hand that was around his wrist and pull you forward.

Forcing your drunken body to ease down and lay your arm across his broad chest. You can’t help but giggle as you envelope yourself in the heat emitting from his body. You wanted to indulge your feelings, only being driven by the sheer amount of alcohol you consumed. It was making your head swirl with thoughts.

“I was thinking about you.” You say finally, and you swore you could see the way his face started to turn a dusty pink.

“Yeah?” Is the only thing he is able to muster up.

“Yeah.” You give his one-word reply right back.

You couldn’t help but feel another giggle bubble in your chest at the sight of him underneath you. He looked so unlike what he tried so hard to keep up. Soft and submissive, adjusting you ever so slightly with a grip on your hip. Forcing your body to move on its own to get comfortable again. Only this time he stops you with a soft groan.

“Stop moving!” He hisses and tries to hold you still.

But something about hearing the way he was straining to keep his voice from sounding anything less than aggressive was tempting you to tease him just a bit. Maybe it was the same spurt of mischief you had with Izuku yesterday. Or maybe it was just the way he looked ripe for the teasing that had you moving around to spite him.

“And what if I don’t?” You smile and watch as his face morphs into something you aren’t quite sure you know how to place.

It was actually quite funny to watch someone that had an insane amount of power and skills be whittled down into a blushing mess. And maybe it wasn’t exactly fair to tease him about it, especially now. But the look in his eyes made you want to press, just a little more.

Again you shift your weight, and watch as he closes his eyes and mutters under his breath. The hand on your hip felt less like it was trying to stop you and more like he wanted to push and pull you as you moved.

“What was that?” You coo softly, adoring the way he seemed to be embarrassed.

His eyes snap open at your honeyed words and before you even realize you're moving, he turns you both and has you pinned to the bed underneath him. The sudden change forces you to gasp as your head hits the pillow, and his hand comes to rest beside your head.

He looked different.

It wasn’t anger or embarrassment lingering on his face, but something else. Eyes half lidded and a faint blush adorned his cheeks. He was giving you that crooked smirk you had come to love over the years.

His body firmly pressed against yours, slim hips forcing your legs wider to accommodate his massive build. The weight of his body only added to the intimidating thrill you felt run down your spine. He takes in your features. Maybe he was looking for something to remark about. Surely your hair was a mess, and he could see the way your skin was patchy due to finally taking your makeup off.

And you swore you could feel something hard pressing into your clothed core. Thick and heavy, only separated by two thin pieces of fabric. It had your intoxicated mind reeling as he leaned down over you, shifting his weight on his arm. Bringing his face just centimeters away from yours.

“It’s you.” He rasps and you can feel the heat of his breath fanned across your face.

The smell of whisky on his breath only fueling your desire to lean forward and find out if it tasted as good as it smelled on him. His natural scent of amber and caramel mixing with expensive bourbon had you willing to do almost anything he wanted.

“What?” You whisper, praying that he would forget your question and close the distance between your lips.

This was dangerous.

This line you were brushing close to. The borderline between a lifelong friendship and something that could be intimate. Was this something he even wanted or were you forcing him into a situation that he would hate you for later?

Either way, now you feel worried, but still extremely turned on when you feel the faint roll of his hips against yours, causing your legs to move on their own and wrap around his waist.

But your mind stops dead in its tracks as you hear a knocking at the door. Not even a moment later, the cheery redhead you remembered as Kirishima opened the door just enough to slip his body inside.

The world around you seemingly forgotten as the two of you play this game. Heated puffs of breath mingling with each other as you lay together. It was a combination of the best and worst kind of feelings.

It was wrong, but why did you have the urge to want it more now? It felt like it was tangible for you to be able to reach out and take what you wanted.

“Hey man, woah!” He starts before turning his head away from the both of you and looking at the wall. “I’m sorry, bro! I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but we need help.”

He sounded so embarrassed, and for good reason. It took your mind a moment to process what he thought he saw. Your legs hiked around Katsuki’s waist, sheets barely clinging to his ass as he leaned over you. It had to look so much worse than what it really was!

“The fuck is wrong?” He barks, turning his head towards his friend, using his body to shield you from the view of anyone else who may walk by.

“No, it’s fine!” He assures, slowly easing himself out the door. “We can wrangle up everyone and get them in bed. Don’t let me interrupt this!”

Katsuki sighs heavily before turning his face backs to you, a stoic look set on his face.

“Go to sleep, and lemme deal with these fucking idiots.” He says before dipping his head down and kissing your cheek.

He gently pulls your legs from his waist and climbs out of bed, turning his back to you as he stands. You watch as the muscles in his back flex and he adjusts himself and his boxers briefs before walking to the dresser and finding a pair of shorts, pulling them on quickly.

Leaving you breathless and staring as he follows his redheaded friend out the bedroom door and down the hall. His rough voice yelling at everyone as he makes his way to the living room.

Who even were you anymore? And where was the person you thought you were?

The person laying in this bed wasn’t anyone you could remember being. Impulsive and willing to risk a lot of things for no reason.

This wasn’t you.

You were rational and used critical thinking. It had to be the copious amount of alcohol running through your body that was clouding your judgment. It was making you read too much into this. There was no way in hell that your angry gremlin was actually into you.

He was simply reacting to your actions, as foolish as they were.

It didn’t matter that you desperately wanted something to happen. You convinced yourself they didn’t. Wiping at the tears that had started falling down your face with a drunken rub across your face.

“Angel?” You hear the sweet voice of Izuku sound softly in the room.

You look over to the door and see him leaning on the door frame. Despite being intoxicated himself, he was still falling into his role of trying to care for other people.

But you can’t help but shy away from him, turning in the bed and facing the closet wall, willing the tears in your eyes to cease just long enough until he would leave.

But if he only knew the depraved thoughts that had been running through your head all this time, that would all change.

But instead, you feel the bed dip behind you, and the strong arm of the sweetest man you know drapes over your hip. Pulling you to mold to his body as he lays down behind you.

It was something you had grown so accustomed to over the past few months. The way he effortlessly knew the best way to help you center yourself. Physical touch grounding you the easiest.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, tucking you snugly into his chest.

As much as you wanted to get it off your chest, you couldn’t make the words leave your mouth. You were in love with both of them. You were the one who was jeopardizing everything you had for most of your life, just to fill some kind of fucked up hole in your heart.

“I messed up.” You say, trying your best to keep your voice soft. “I’m stupid, and I knew better.”

“Hey, none of that!” He says quickly, leaning back and forcing you to roll on your back once again.

You didn’t bother to shield yourself from his worried eyes. Letting the tears fall down your face freely as you looked into his darkened green eyes.

“I don’t wanna be here when he comes back.” You admit softly, trying to force yourself up to retreat back to your own bed.

“When who comes back?” He asks, looking at the door and then back at you. “Kacchan?”

You only nod your head and look past him towards the ceiling. “Yeah”

“What did he do?” He asks, his eyes alert despite having so much alcohol coursing through his veins.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Comes a bark from the door. And there stood Katsuki, shirtless and with his shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. The light from the hallway casting a glow behind him temporarily until he hits the button to turn it off. Making his way back in the door and shutting it behind him.

“Then why is she so upset?” Izuku hissed, turning his head towards Katsuki.

“Probably cause shitty hair has horrible fucking timing,” He mutters, walking over to the free side of the bed and crawling in next to you.

The combined heat from both of their bodies felt almost overwhelming, making your head swim.

“The hell does that mean?” Izuku snarks quickly, sending a death glare to his best friend.

But all Katsuki does is sigh heavily and trap you further between them, leaving you no room to move. You can feel his warm hand resting on your hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin.

“He walked in as we were roughhousing and it embarrassed her.” He says gravelly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

He was giving you an out.

Even in your drunken stupor, you were thankful he didn’t see what you did as an act of lust. It was just two friends fighting in the dark. It wasn’t anything more than that.

“I just want to go to sleep.” You say softly, wiping at the remaining tears hanging on your cheeks.

The pull of sleep was calling your name, and you couldn’t do much to ignore it. The last two days had suddenly become so messy, and you didn’t know what to do to alleviate the lingering pressure that had made its home in your body.

So you let your body run on autopilot, closing your eyes and letting yourself enjoy the small cuddle party that was taking place tonight. This was going to be a major problem for you tomorrow, but for the rest of the night, you could at least enjoy this. 

It's no surprise that the pro hero is well known for being loud, and down right rude to top it off. He was content with the life he had led so far. Sure it had its ups and downs, but he made it work in his favor. He was strong and damn near unbeatable when it came to his line of work. 

One of the aspects he hated about his job was the way people looked into his success and failures. Picking through the wreckage of his battles with a fine tooth comb until the paparazzi had something to stalk him about that week. Worming their way into a closed off scene to get the first pictures of the wreckage he managed to leave behind. 

Thye were loud.

Following him foolishly from each scene of battle, all the way back to the agency. And sometimes either the extremely brave, and mostly stupid one trying to follow him home. 

And tonight was no exception. 

He left quite a but of damage to the two blocks of the city he fought in. Damages ranged from broken windows to demolished cars. And a small army of paparazzi and reporters were attempting to follow him as he left the agency for the night. 

It bothered him more than it normally would tonight. Had him barking and yelling insults as the cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions. He was faster, just enough to put a block of distance between them when he spotted a cracked door to the library. 

He took his chance and rushed the door and closed it behind him. Resting his back against the wall keeping a lookout for the crowd to pass by. He could hear their voices and see the lights as they rushed by, a small breath of relief left him as he managed to escape just in time. 

"I'm sorry sir, but the library is closed." Your soft voice rings out in the silence. 

Almost comically slow he turns his head and sees you standing just at the main entrance, with a large stack of heavy books in your hands. Looming taken back by the massive pro standing in your workplace. 

But he also notices the way your struggling to keep the heavy load in your arms. And it's calling out to his base hero instincts to help a civilian out. Not taking longer than a moment to huff and stride over to you and take the books from your hands. 

"Gonna throw yer back out trying to carry that shit" He gruffs, waiting for you to lead the way. 

And you do. 

Quietly, he appreciates it. You don't try to force a conversation or ask him why he's there. You simply lead him down the endless isles and occasionally take a book from the top of his pile and place it on the shelf. Humming softly as you went. Dragging your hand down the spines of the books, double checking you were in the right area for the next book before placing it in the right spot. 

And by the time you pluck the last book from his hands, he feels a weird emotion brewing in his chest. 

Peace. 

His shoulder didn't feel as tight compared to when he walked in. His heart wasn't beating a mile a minute anymore. He didn't want to admit he felt calm with anyone, especially a stranger.

But after that night he learned your name, and you sent him on his way with a gentle nudge out the backdoor and a fucking apple juice box of all things.. 

Perhaps that random act of kindness from you was the reason he found himself doing the same thing a week later. Finding you slowly stacking books on the counter, ready to pull them into your arms when you look over and see him.

"Oh, hello again!" You spoke softly, but the smile you has on your face made him feel warmed. 

The same thing happens again, he carries your heavy stack of books. You hum a song, and he feels lighter than he ever has by the time you take the last book from his calloused hands. 

This time he finds himself not wanting to leave as quickly. Content to watch you from the desk chair as you tidy up for a while. Still happily humming away some song that reminds him of his childhood.

He walks you home that night, claiming that it was too dangerous to let you wall home alone at night. He asks questions, small ones at first. Like where you're from, and how you ended up here of all places. Your likes and dislikes. Finally dropping you off safely at the front door of your home, waiting until your inside and he can hear the lock shut on the other side before he starts his journey home. 

It took him a extra hour of walking, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he climbed into bed that night. 

Those late evenings of sneaking into the library, slowly started to turn into him bringing dinner for you to share, and he eventually started to open up. He also found himself sitting closer to you on the large couch in the back, as you would read. He asked you that one time what you were reading and you started to read it out loud to him. 

It was soothing, listening to your voice. Calm but excited to read him a book he had no real interest in. But the way you read each word had him wanting to hear more. You chipped away small pieces of his hard exterior with only the sound of your voice and the turn of a page. 

He wanted to despise those paparazzi idiots who tailed him after every fight, looking for anything they could use as a headline. The true cockroaches of the earth, as they twist his words and take sneaky photos of him when he looks absolutely feral. Playing up the image that he was more monster than a man. 

 But if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have you. 

Almost two years later he finds himself walking the same familiar path to the library. It looks like the normal crowd of people with the same set of questions and flashing lights following behind him. 

He can't be bothered to outrun them this time though. Instead he smirks as he turns the corner and slips inside the back entrance of the library, walking until he sees you. Sitting in your chair behind the front counter, playing on your phone. 

Your hair is slightly messy, and your shoes kicked off and out of the way. That same stack of large books sitting on the counter, waiting for him. You smile gently at him as he walks into view. It was something he had come to love after all this time. The way such a simple gesture made his heart warm in ways he never thought it could. 

And just like he had so many nights before he takes the stack of books from the desk and lets you lead him down the rows of books. Offering him a run down of your day, leaving him to hum softly when you give him the newest hot gossip with the older ladies.

 He wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

You were the peace to his violence. the beacon of hope he searched for after a rough day. The gentle sway of your hips and the little tap of your fingertips along the backs of the books as you walked.

 It wasn’t the silence in his world he wanted, it was you. 

Your smile, your goofy laugh. The way your arms reached out to pull him in after a hard day. It was were the small things you offered him with for no reason. Contrasting his brute strength and loud personality with something more delicate. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl into a soft smile as he followed behind you, the weight of books lightening the more you wandered. 

And he definitely enjoyed the way you still squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his embrace before he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. Whispering about how much he loves you, into your ear.

 He adored flustered look you always wore when he said something borderline filthy. Even in the freezing cold tempature of the library, he could feel you skin heat under his fingertips. Being bold enough to push you to sit on a low counter and bully his way between your legs. Sighing softly against his neck as he works his hands under your blouse. 

He lived for the whine you always made when you forced him to stop. Complaing that there were cameras around, and the last thing you wanted was to star in an amature movie while you were at work. 

If he could he would love in the moment forever. In the safe and silent confines of the Library. 

But instead he does the right thing, and helps you readjust your shirt. Guiding you down from the counter and helping you finish with whatever bullshit task you still needed to complete before he could take you home. 

Flipping off the lights and lacing his fingers with yours as you lock the door behind you. 

The flashing lights and yells of his name didn’t bother him as much now. Because As he pulls you to stop in just the most picture perfect way. Making sure the cameras catch the name of the library above your head, he smirks at them all before he bends down on one knee. Your eyes alive with tears of joy once you realize what is going on. 

Pulling out the box hes been carrying around in his pocket for six months now, and showing it to you. He opens it and he can’t help but let the image of you be burned into his mind for eternity. Your happy squeal and little jumps as he takes the ring out of the box and gives you a look that speaks more than his loud voice ever could. 

“What do ya say bookworm?” He smirks as you are already shaking your head and whispering yes. “Think the library will care if I check you out and never bring you back?” 

the high points of bakugou’s cheeks flush a little deeper and you feel him swallow harshly. his cock leaks and you curl a little more around his naked back a little more to better watch him smear the wetness over his brown tip, both of you making small noises when he focuses his touch there for a long moment.

“i think about… your face when you cum,” he says with a touch of distraction, you glance up to find him watching you in the mirror.

you flash him a heated smile, your touch trailing down his arm to place your hand over his, wanting to feel the rhythm of how he jerks himself off. you, for the trillionth time, catalogue the way the fine, downy blond hair over his body darkens and thickens over his chest and down his navel. those are some of your favorite parts of him.

“sometimes i think about things we haven’t done yet,” his voice wavers then, like he’s admitting a secret, “just… fantasies, y’know?”

you hum something close to a yes and make a mental note to ask him exactly what he means later, “what else, katsuki?”

he shivers when you say his name, the speed of his hand picks up just a little, “fuck, i—i think about the way you moan when i finger you, or when i eat you out. the way you feel when i fuck you, your body under my hands…”

“i think about that too,” you tell him, your voice low and lilting like a purr against his neck.

you drag your nails down his back, humming in response to his reactive hiss. if you didn’t know better you’d think the pain had upset him, but you watch the way the head of his cock drools another pearl of precum as his hips start to move in time with his hand. he’s close, you watch the way his eyebrows pinch up and his thighs tremble, your name on his lips makes you squirm. bakugou’s face crumples in the moment before he turns his face to you, searching for a kiss. your lips barely meet when his mouth parts with a groan. you turn your gaze back to the mirror, watching intently as he pumps his fist over his cock a few more times, cum painting his fingers and the sink.

bakugou sags into you slightly, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. you reach down to palm his softening cock, hiding your little chuckle at his grumble of overstimulation in his shoulder. but you don’t linger there, not wanting to ruin the afterglow for him.

“let’s shower,” he tells you after a minute, voice a little rough.

after gently pulling away, you turn the water on as he cleans up the sink and countertop. you shed your clothes, toss them to the side and find bakugou’s darkened eyes on you.

“i think… you should show me too.”

you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face, the throb already present between your legs escalates to a dull roar, “now?”

bakugou’s eyes shine with an eagerness you’ve come to expect when he wants to see you fall apart.

He’s not a naive man, he’s heard your friends talking about how you can do better. That he’s keeping you away from them, and that they’re worried about you. But he’s doing it for your own good, they’re no good for you. You don’t need them when you’ve got him.

The media are no better, publishing articles about whether a Pro-Hero as volatile and explosive as Dynamight can ever truly love— and you’re the one sign that proves he can.

Maybe a little too much.

Bakugou’s practically in heaven the first time you agree to have sex with him. Moving to that stage in the relationship he reckons should’ve happened weeks ago, thoughts of how wet and warm your cunt would feel completely consuming his mind as he thinks about it at the worst times.

Your pliant body so eager and willing for him, splayed beneath him like a meal he’s ready to sink his teeth into. Cock heavy and weeping with pre as the swollen tip bumps your puffy clit, practically feeling the heat radiating from you as he moves to push forward when—

“Wait, Katsuki. A condom—”

He’s livid, honestly. No, incensed.

He’s waited weeks to have you like this, to fill you to the brim with his cum and to claim you as his own and you whispered those words so sweetly. Like you were doing him a favour.

His jaw clenches as he smooths the gummy latex down his length, feeling it cling to him uncomfortably as he finally pushes forward. Grunting when he feels your tight walls cling to him, but it’s just not the same. The thin barrier prevents him from feeling every inch of you, from consuming you whole.

You writhe beneath him, clinging to his broad shoulders as you practically beg for his cum. The cum that he would’ve happily given to you if you hadn’t made him confine it to nothing more than sticky latex. Canting his hips into you as he felt his release fill the condom, an uncomfortable weight inside it as he pulls out of your spent cunt to see it bare of any trace of him. Your creamy slick coats the condom, clinging to the material like it should be clinging to him. He pulls it off and ties the end with distaste, what a fuckin’ waste.

But you’ve always been a tempting seductress, coaxing him in with your innocent eyes that are really anything but. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him into a salacious kiss as you straddle one of his thick thighs, press your clothed cunt against hard muscle as you grind against him.

“Need you,” You whisper, and it’s all Bakugou needs to hear.

Movements hot and heavy as he pushes you towards your bedroom, letting you land on delicate sheets as he moves to devour you. Dipping two thick digits inside your hungry walls, curling them towards the spongy spot inside you as he hears you beg for more, beg for him. A calloused thumb swipes against your clit as you cry out his name, begging for his cock— and tonight he’ll give it to you.

“Katsu— ah, condom—”

That same word that has his blood boiling and hands igniting. Roughly flipping you onto your chest as he leans over you, opening your bedside drawer to find the small square packets as he tears it open with his teeth. Pulling the rubber out as he makes a show of discarding the foil packet beside your head, right where you can see it.

But he’s got no intention of using it tonight. His hands are smeared with the lubrication, sticky and uncomfortable as he spreads your cheeks. Thumbing your tight asshole as you gasp, turning back to him in surprise as he pushes your head back down.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m just touching,” He coos, “You’re just so pretty.”

Oh, that hole will be his soon. Like all the rest of you, you’ll always be his.

He keeps a palm spreading your cheeks as he takes his cock in his fist, smoothing the leaking tip through your messy folds as your bone the wiser. Groaning at how you really feel without and stupid barriers— wet, warm and eager for him as you grind your hips back against him.

“Put it in, Katsuki,” You whine, “Need you.”

Yeah, you do. You need him so fuckin’ bad. Your cunt practically sucks him in as he eases his hips forward, groaning at the feel of your bare walls for the first time, no distracting barriers as he gives an experimental thrust.

He won’t last long like this, and he knows it. Steadying himself above you as he leans his weight on top of you. Forearms on either side of your head as he starts a rough pace, the sound of skin against skin fills the room as he gives you everything he’s got. Those weeks of waiting for this are nothing compared to having you here and now, claiming you as his own.

Pressing wet, sloppy kisses against your cheek as he fucks you with vigour, your moans only goad him on as he’s certain you prefer this too.

“‘m gonna cum,” You cry out, and it’s like a gift from the gods when he feels your walls clamp around his cock with no latex barriers in his way.

“Gonna fill you so good, sweetheart,” He groans, lips flush against your ear as he breathes in the scent of you, “Gonna make you mine.”

Bakugou thinks about how easy it would be to breed you, to fuck a baby into you and have you all soft and round with his child. The perfect little housewife to stay with him forever—

And Bakugou cums hard.

Hips stuttering as empties his balls inside your warm, wet cunt. Filling you to the brim with spurts of his cum, feeling it overflow as his hips keep rutting into you, fucking it deeper inside you as the lewd squelch fills the room.

“Katsuki, stop—“ You gasp, your body shaking beneath him, “Did the condom come off inside me?”

There’s a slight panic to your voice, and Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. His cock throbbing in tandem with the sweet tone to it, pulling out as he masks the groan from deep in his chest with annoyance, feigning disdain as he reaches out to grab the forgotten condom. His cock now glazed in a layer of your creamy slick, glistening with you. He’s already hard and throbbing for you again, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt hugging him once more. And it takes every ounce of self-restraint he has not to slide back inside you again.

“Fuck, condom broke,” He grunts. The lie leaves his lips so effortlessly, “Sorry sweetheart.”

But he’s not sorry, he’s anything but.

Especially when he sees his creamy spend begin to drip from your stretched little hole, dribbling down your slit as it coats your clit. Thick globs of it drip onto the once clean sheets beneath you as he parts your cheeks for a better look.

But he knows deep down, now you’ve had a taste you’re just as corrupt as he is.

Besides, now he’s ruined you for anyone else.

you smile but keep it to yourself. you rest your head on your forearms and savor the quiet between you, only interrupted by the lap of the water against the rocky shoreline and the hollow thunk of the old pontoon boat up against the dock. the wooden boards that hold your body feel steady and strong, as does the hand at your back.

with a sigh, katsuki flops down on his back beside you, slapping your ass playfully when it’s within reach. you turn your head to glare at him, your grumbling muffled by your arm. it makes him smile.

“c’mere,” he murmurs behind you, patting his chest like he’s calling a dog. you roll your eyes, but you still flip your body around and do just that. the steady beat of his heart kisses your temple and you can’t help but throw a leg over his waist to pull him closer.

he obliges, and the arm underneath you wraps around your shoulders like he can’t stand for you to be any farther away either.

“this is nice,” you whisper, a little sleepy as the sun and the man underneath you warm you from the inside out. katsuki hums, slipping his free hand under your cover up to smooth his palm over the swell of your hip. he lets out a deep, satisfied exhale and your head sinks slightly with the contraction of his rib cage.

“wanna live here,” you say through a yawn, letting your eyes flutter closed. despite the hard dock underneath you, you could definitely fall asleep. it would be worth all of the grumbling you’d hear later about katsuki’s sore back.

“yeah? y’tired of the city?”

“i mean, if we get to live on a lake and i can lay outside and read all day? yeah, i’d totally leave the city for that.”

he hums again in time with the song of a whippoorwill. the breeze picks up again, offering a moment’s reprieve from the july heat beating down on you. you hear the tink of a wind chime from somewhere behind you and it pulls you deeper into this serene paradise the two of you have somehow created. you spend the rest of the afternoon like that, tangled up in each other over the water, until it’s time for dinner, when katsuki grills while you explore the property. when you run back to him with a skirt full of raspberries and the most beautiful, wild smile he’s ever seen on your face, the decision makes itself.