Make It Up To You

okay so i'm not a lads acc but holy truck this was a masterpiece. everything like the dialogue was written so well. the characterisation, the tension, the imagery. all of the interactions felt so natural and dynamic.

need this on my page so i can re-read it a bajillion times!

petty | sylus

synopsis : You thought a harmless prank—some red dye, a little glitter—would be funny. But Sylus, your cold, calculating boyfriend, doesn’t get mad. He gets petty. Now your closet’s organized by emotional damage, your coffee machine brews herbal tea, and your Evol is locked by a containment cuff—right after he kissed you breathless and chained you to a console like it was foreplay. Meanwhile, Luke’s set the kitchen on fire, Kieran’s crying over decaf, and Sylus just smiles like he’s already won. Which okay, he already did.

content : fluff, chaos, N109 Zone au, just sylus being petty af, imagine: rom-com and slapstick comedy

writer’s note : i had this sitting in my drafts for so long LOL

You have no idea how you ended up here.

It was just a silly prank. One you decided—no, more like bullied—into pulling on Sylus.

Luke had that look in his eye, Kieran had that grin, and between the two of them, you’d made a series of very poor decisions.

It started out harmless.

Overheating the dryer until his clothes shrunk just enough to make him glare at his reflection in irritation.

Switching out his toothpaste with mint chip ice cream—cold, foamy, oddly sweet.

Juvenile, yes, but survivable.

But then Luke, bored of mild chaos, decided to up the ante.

Red dye. In Sylus’ face wash.

You should’ve stopped him.

You really should’ve.

Now you’re backed up against the cold steel wall of the corridor outside your shared quarters.

Sylus stands in front of you, arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His body radiates heat like he’s just stepped out of hell itself.

And his face?

Still damp.

Streaked red.

A slow, uneven flush blooming down his jaw and neck like a war paint disaster.

You press your lips together to stifle the laugh climbing your throat.

Not because you’re afraid—well, okay, maybe a little—but because if you so much as snort, you know he’ll make you regret it.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you.

That unreadable, razor-edged stare.

Like he’s measuring the weight of your existence against the trouble you’re worth.

“Sylus,” you start, trying for innocent. “It was—”

“A prank,” he finishes for you, voice low, smooth. The kind of calm that usually precedes mass destruction. “I gathered.”

You open your mouth again, but the words die as he leans in closer, the tips of his silver hair grazing your forehead. His breath ghosts against your cheek.

“You find this funny?” he murmurs, voice like smoke and ice. “My face. My dignity.”

You hold your breath, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I mean,” you squeak, “you do pull off crimson rather well…”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile.

He just tilts his head slightly, gaze trailing down to your lips.

“I see,” he says.

You swallow.

“Sylus?”

He shifts forward, just enough that your bodies nearly touch, and then—click.

You glance down. He’s handcuffed your wrist to the pipe behind you.

One-handed. Effortless.

“What—wait, Sylus!”

He steps back, unhurried, brushing red-streaked water off his jaw with the back of his hand. He looks so composed now, it’s almost unfair.

“I’ll be in the lab,” he says casually, already turning away. “Don’t worry. Luke and Kieran are next. But you…”

He pauses at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, “You can stay there and think about what you’ve done.”

“Sylus.”

“I’ll come back when I’ve decided how to retaliate.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not serious—!”

He disappears around the corner, his footsteps fading.

You stare after him, wrist tugging against the cuff. “You petty, beautiful menace!”

And somewhere down the hall, you swear you hear him laugh.

You struggle against the pipe for a solid five minutes.

Nothing.

Sylus had apparently decided that if he was going to cuff you, it would be with reinforced titanium-grade handcuffs.

Because of course he would.

You’re still trying to twist your wrist free when two familiar figures round the corner, arguing loudly.

“—I told you he’d murder us, Kieran.”

“No, you said he’d probably murder us. I figured we had a 20% survival rate if we ran fast enough—oh.”

They freeze when they see you.

You, handcuffed to a wall like some criminally adorable hostage. Hair slightly tousled.

A vein twitching in your temple.

Luke whistles low. “Damn. He actually cuffed you?”

“What was your first clue, Sherlock?” you snap, yanking on the cuff. “The literal metal restraint on my wrist or the rage in my eyes?”

Kieran winces. “Hey, hey, don’t be mad at us—we didn’t put the dye in the face wash.”

“You told Luke to do it!”

Luke, affronted, points at Kieran. “You told me you cleared it with her!”

“I said it would be funny! That’s not the same thing!”

You groan and let your head thump back against the wall. “I’m going to kill both of you. Slowly. With a spoon.”

Luke bites back a grin. “I don’t think Sylus is done with you yet.”

“Un-cuff me before I scream loud enough to summon the Onychinus agents.”

Kieran rummages through his pockets. “You think he left a key?”

“Oh yeah,” you deadpan. “I’m sure Sylus, the most paranoid man alive, just happened to leave a key to his special-grade cuffs on me.”

Luke pulls something out of his jacket and grins. “Good thing I have my trusty lockpick set.”

You squint at him. “Why do you have that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Kieran leans in beside him, watching like this is a group project. “Careful, if you scratch her wrist again she’s going to throw you into traffic.”

“I will throw you into traffic,” you mutter.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Kieran beams.

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

Luke finally clicks the lock open with a satisfying snap. Your wrist comes free, and you stretch it, rubbing the sore spot with a glare that could melt steel.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. “Now run.”

“Run?” Luke blinks.

“Yes. Run. Before he comes back.”

The overhead lights flicker.

The three of you freeze.

“…That’s him, isn’t it?” Kieran whispers.

You look up slowly, the temperature in the corridor dropping by a few ominous degrees.

“I think he’s coming to check if I’ve learned my lesson,” you murmur.

Luke’s already halfway down the hall. “NOPE. I’M OUT—”

Kieran grabs your hand and drags you after him. “We live in fear now. This is our life.”

Behind you, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the corridor.

And somewhere between breathless laughter and panic, you realise, this isn’t over.

Not even close.

You bolt through the corridor with Luke and Kieran like you’re fleeing an exploding reactor.

“He’s definitely tracking us,” you gasp.

“He has cameras everywhere!” Kieran hisses. “We’re screwed!”

You dive into the living quarters and slam the door shut behind you. Luke immediately ducks behind the couch. Kieran throws himself dramatically into the pantry.

You stand there for a beat, hands on your hips.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke’s muffled voice replies from under a throw blanket that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide his legs.

You sigh, yank open a cabinet, and cram yourself inside.

There’s a broom, a vacuum hose, and a suspicious packet of cookies you’re pretty sure expired last year.

“Kieran,” you call through the cabinet slats. “Are you eating?”

“…No,” he says with his mouth full.

“I swear to every celestial body—”

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Near.

All three of you freeze like a trio of amateur criminals hiding from a prison warden.

The door creaks open.

You hold your breath.

Nothing.

No words. No movement.

Just the sound of the wind outside the window and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I know you’re hiding,” Sylus calls out. Calm. Even. Like he’s enjoying this.

Luke lets out a soft, wheezing squeak from under the blanket.

You slap your palm over your mouth.

Kieran drops a packet of crackers and panics. “Shit, he’s bluffing! He’s bluffing!”

You burst out of the cabinet. “He’s NOT bluffing!”

All three of you scramble again, crashing into each other like some bootleg spy movie.

Kieran ends up tangled in curtain strings, Luke slams into a chair, and you leap over the kitchen counter and miss, landing with a loud thud.

You’re wheezing on the floor when Sylus walks in.

Unbothered. Unhurried.

Looking like an avenging angel with red-streaked remnants still faintly staining his jawline.

He folds his arms and surveys the disaster with something suspiciously close to amusement.

He walks past Kieran, still suspended in the curtains like a very dumb chandelier.

Past Luke, now pretending to be unconscious on the floor.

Past you.

He doesn’t say a word.

Not a glare. Not a threat. Not even a smirk.

Just a quiet, “Clean up after yourselves,” as he heads into his study.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“…That’s so much worse than yelling,” you whisper.

Kieran groans. “He’s plotting. He’s going to take us out one by one.”

Luke peeks from behind the couch. “He knows we’re scared. That’s why he’s letting us marinate.”

“I hate both of you so much right now,” you mutter, collapsing into the nearest armchair.

Kieran flops beside you and steals the remote. “We should lie low. Maybe bake him something.”

“Cookies fix everything,” Luke nods solemnly.

You glare at them both. “If I die, I’m haunting you in shifts.”

—•

It takes you two hours to gather the courage.

Two hours of Luke stress-eating cereal straight from the box while Kieran googled “how to tell if your boyfriend is planning your murder.”

Two hours of internal debates and spiraling scenarios, most of which ended with your disappearance and Sylus calmly denying any knowledge of your existence.

So now you’re standing in front of his office door like you’ve come to face a firing squad.

You raise your hand, hesitate, lower it again.

Then knock. Once. Softly.

“Come in,” comes his voice, smooth as always.

You open the door slowly. He’s seated behind his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled up, looking for all the world like a man deep in some technical report.

But you know better.

His eyes flick up to you—and stay there.

“I brought tea,” you say weakly, holding up the mug like a peace offering. Or a shield. “And… a cookie. But Luke sat on it.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you, unreadable.

You inch forward, placing the mug on the corner of his desk. “Look, I didn’t know about the dye. I mean I did, but I didn’t think he’d actually—okay, no, that’s a lie. I thought it would be funny.”

Silence.

“I was wrong.”

Still nothing.

You shift awkwardly, gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Finally, he sets his pen down and leans back slightly, eyes still fixed on you.

Then, just when the tension starts to crack your spine.

A small smile.

A smile.

Sharp. Amused.

Dangerous.

“It’s okay,” he says.

You blink. “It… is?”

He nods. “Of course.”

Too easy. Way too easy.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You inch back a step. “Why does that sound like a trap?”

His smile widens—just a fraction. “I said it’s okay. That’s all.”

You stare at him. He stares right back, like he can hear every thought racing through your brain. Like he’s already playing the long game and you just stepped into it without even knowing.

“Right,” you mutter. “Okay. Cool. Um. I’ll go now.”

You turn on your heel and walk—more like run—out of the room.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you press your back against it, eyes wide.

“He’s going to destroy me.”

And from behind the door, faint and unmistakably amused, comes the sound of Sylus quietly sipping his tea.

You return to the living quarters with the kind of haunted expression usually reserved for horror movie survivors.

Luke looks up from the couch, one leg slung over the backrest like a human pretzel.

Kieran’s on the floor with a blanket cape, eating cereal with a fork.

“Are we dead?” Kieran asks between mouthfuls.

“Not yet,” you mutter.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“He smiled at me.”

Both twins flinch.

“Was it… the smile?” Luke asks, lowering his voice.

“The ‘I know exactly where your corpse would never be found’ smile?” Kieran whispers.

You throw yourself onto the couch and groan into a pillow. “No. It was worse. It was the ‘It’s okay’ smile.”

Luke gasps dramatically. “No. He went full passive-aggressive Zen reaper?”

“He said it like it was fine. Like I’m fine. Like life is fine. Nothing is fine.”

Kieran crawls up beside you. “That’s psychological warfare. He’s gonna lull you into a false sense of security. Then, boom—next week your toothbrush explodes.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” you say into the pillow. “I’d respect the commitment.”

Luke drops beside you, flinging a cushion over your back like a blanket. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“No,” he says solemnly. “It means we go deeper.”

You lift your head slowly. “What?”

“He’s playing mind games. So we play worse mind games.”

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head on the stupid stick this morning?”

Kieran grins. “He’s got fear. But we have unpredictable chaos. Sylus doesn’t know how to handle us when we’re not even handling ourselves.”

“Oh, he knows. He just hasn’t decided which part of the house he’ll burn down first.”

Luke leans in. “Okay, hear me out. What if… next prank, we frame someone else?”

“Kieran,” you snap, “Luke is spiraling again.”

Kieran slurps his cereal louder. “Let him spiral. I want to see where it goes.”

You sit up, rubbing your temples. “You two are the reason I’m probably going to end up in some Sylus-designed containment cube labeled ‘Idiot No. 3.’”

Luke perks up. “That means he already made one for you.”

You chuck a pillow at his face. “I hate you.”

Kieran laughs so hard he chokes on his cereal.

And somewhere in the walls—behind silent security panels—you know Sylus is watching.

Letting you run your mouths.

Letting you think you’re safe.

Which is so much worse.

—•

Dinner is suspiciously… normal.

Too normal.

The lighting is warm. The dining room pristine.

The food? Already served and plated like a five-star meal—elegant, balanced, perfectly portioned.

Which is already unsettling, because Sylus doesn’t cook. He commands kitchens into order.

But tonight, he did everything himself.

You sit stiffly at the table, trying not to choke on the silence.

Kieran sits across from you, eyes darting from his fork to Sylus like he’s waiting for the plate to detonate. Luke hasn’t even touched his food.

Which says a lot, because Luke once ate nachos that had been on fire.

Sylus, meanwhile, is the picture of grace.

Calm, composed, every movement deliberate as he cuts into his food with a quiet snick of silverware.

“How’s the meal?” he asks lightly.

You all jump a little.

“It’s great!” Kieran blurts. “So great. Best thing I’ve ever had. Better than oxygen.”

You nudge your plate with the fork. “Um. What exactly is this?”

Sylus smiles—just enough to show it’s a trap. “Roasted pepper-glazed poultry with herb foam.”

“…Foam?” Luke whispers. “Like… bubbles?”

Sylus turns to him. “Yes. But gourmet.”

Luke nods solemnly. “Tastes expensive.”

You take a careful bite. It tastes incredible, which only makes things worse.

Sylus never does anything without intent. You feel like each bite is a move in a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Is that saffron?” Kieran asks.

Sylus doesn’t look up. “Would I use saffron so early in the week?”

Kieran panics. “No! Obviously not. What a stupid question. Forget I said it. I never even heard of saffron.”

You sip your water. Pause. Sip again.

“Why does the water taste like mint?”

Luke sniffs his glass. “Mine tastes like fear.”

Sylus hums. “I thought I’d try infusing it. Cleansing properties. Refreshing.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re being nice.”

He looks at you. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not like this. You’re being suspiciously serene.”

Luke whispers to Kieran, “He’s baking the tension. Like a soufflé of dread.”

Kieran whispers back, “I’m scared to chew too loudly.”

Sylus finishes his plate, sets his utensils down with the softest clink, and dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry.”

You all freeze.

“I already told you,” he says, folding his hands neatly, “It’s okay.”

You grip the edge of the table.

“No, see, when you say that, it sounds okay, but it feels like I’m about to get smothered in my sleep with a silk pillow.”

Sylus smiles, serene as a saint. “You wound me.”

“Oh my god,” Kieran mutters. “He wants us to feel safe.”

“That’s when he’ll strike,” Luke hisses.

Sylus stands, slow and elegant. “I’ve had a long day. You three can clean up.”

And with that, he walks off—leisurely, utterly calm—leaving behind his perfectly empty plate and three very nervous idiots still staring at their forks like they might be poisoned.

“I think he put lavender in the bread,” Luke says hollowly.

“That’s a threat,” Kieran nods.

You don’t speak. You just slowly lower your fork onto your plate and say, voice soft with realisation.

“We’re already losing.”

—•

It starts the next morning.

Small things.

You wake up and stumble bleary-eyed into the bathroom, only to find your toothbrush… gone. In its place is a child’s pink glittery toothbrush with a tiny bow on the handle and a smug little unicorn printed across it.

You stare at it.

It stares back.

“…Sylus.”

You brush anyway. Because fear is temporary, but oral hygiene is forever.

Down the hall, you hear a scream. Luke.

You race to his room, bursting in just in time to see him holding up a shirt—his favorite shirt—now three sizes too small and bright neon orange.

“He sabotaged the laundry!” Luke wails. “It looks like a highlighter threw up on it!”

Kieran stumbles in a moment later, face pale. “Okay. You know the coffee machine?”

You all pause.

“…What about it?” you ask warily.

“I pressed ‘brew’ and it played classical music. Loudly. Very loudly. And then dispensed chamomile tea.”

Luke gasps. “Decaf?”

Kieran nods. “Herbal.”

You all stand there in silence, the full horror of that registering.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “He’s escalating. This is psychological warfare disguised as hospitality.”

Luke grabs your shoulders. “We have to go off-grid.”

You shake him off. “We live in his grid. He built the grid.”

Kieran paces. “Okay. Okay. So he’s playing the long game. Fine. We stay strong. We don’t break.”

You return to your room to get dressed, trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy.

Your closet is empty.

No. Not empty.

Reorganized.

Everything is sorted by color, occasion, emotional state, and the lunar cycle.

There are even handwritten labels.

LUNAR-ALIGNED NIGHTWEAR.

MILDLY ANNOYED LOUNGE SETS.

IF YOU MUST INTERACT WITH PEOPLE.

You stare.

It’s… kind of impressive.

Still terrifying.

Later that day, your comm device pings with a message.

Hope the toothbrush is to your liking. Unicorns are symbols of purity. Thought it was fitting. —S.

You don’t respond. You can’t.

You sit there in silence, chewing your unsatisfying herbal tea and wondering how one man could be so elegant and so unhinged at the same time.

Back in the kitchen, Luke is attempting to pick the lock on the pantry door—now password protected and voice activated.

Kieran sits on the floor, whispering sweetly to the coffee machine in the hopes it will forgive him.

And all the while, somewhere deep in his office, Sylus watches the surveillance feed with a slight, satisfied smile.

Checkmate? Not yet.

But the pieces were moving.

And he was always ten steps ahead.

—•

It’s late.

Too late for anyone else to be awake. The halls are quiet, dimly lit, the kind of silence that feels intentional.

You creep into the kitchen, determined to retrieve your emergency stash of chocolate hidden behind the vitamin supplements Sylus refuses to acknowledge.

You’ve earned this.

After a day of psychological warfare and sentient appliances, you deserve sugar and solitude.

But the moment you open the cabinet, you hear it.

“Looking for something?”

You jump, nearly drop the jar, and spin around.

Sylus leans casually against the doorframe. Half in shadow. White shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled. Watching you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

You swallow. “Just… needed a snack.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, stepping into the room. “You always get hungry when you’re anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.”

“Of course you’re not.”

He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening.

Just… there.

Slowly closing the distance until he’s in your space. His eyes flick down to the jar in your hands, then back to you.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he murmurs.

You shrug, heart in your throat. “You’ve been… rearranging my life like an episode of The Big Bang Theory.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“You should be grateful. I improved your morning routine, your closet, and your toothpaste. Not many people get this level of attention from me.”

“You replaced my shampoo with glitter gel.”

“I thought you liked shimmer.”

You glare. “Okay, what is this? Revenge lite? Psychological torment with a smile?”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering with that infuriating calm. “Do you think I’d waste my time with petty revenge?”

You hesitate. “…Yes?”

He chuckles. “Fair.”

He leans in just slightly—close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back with deliberate slowness.

“But here’s the thing,” he says softly. “I’m not doing this because I’m angry.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

His voice drops lower, velvet and ice. “This is a warning.”

You blink. “A warning?”

He raises a brow. “You see, I’m not interested in getting even. I’m not even interested in winning.”

He leans in fully now, mouth near your ear, voice like silk dragged over steel.

“I’m interested in reminding you… that you don’t play games with someone who invented the board.”

Your breath catches.

Then he steps back. Casual.

Smiling.

Completely composed, like he didn’t just dismantle your spine with a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says smoothly, already turning to leave.

“Sylus—”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes cool, mouth curved in that infuriatingly perfect smirk.

“Sleep well, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the kitchen, heart pounding, chocolate jar forgotten in your hands.

You stare at the door, then mutter to yourself:

“Okay. Yep. We’re all going to die.”

—•

You don’t sleep.

Not really.

Not after that.

You toss. Turn.

Stare at the ceiling.

Replay his words on a loop in your mind.

You don’t play games with someone who invented the board.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the way he said it. Or the way he’d leaned in—close enough to smell your shampoo, the glitter one, traitorous and lemon-sweet.

Or how his voice had dipped low like he wanted to taste the words.

But you are.

And it’s driving you insane.

You last until just before sunrise.

Then you march down the hall in bare feet and defiance, fully intending to demand an end to this madness.

Maybe yell. Maybe shake him.

Definitely not… whatever this fluttering in your chest is.

You stop outside his office.

The door is open.

He’s seated at the far end, back to you, reading something on a tablet. He doesn’t look up when you enter, but he says, “You’re up early.”

Your jaw tightens. “You planned that.”

“I plan everything.”

You walk in, arms crossed. “The glitter. The water. The closet. The toothbrush. You knew it would get in my head.”

He finally turns in his chair, tablet abandoned. “And yet… you came to me.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

It’s silent.

That heavy, brittle kind of silence where something has to break.

“You’re impossible,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head. “You’re the one who dyed my face red.”

You blink. “That wasn’t me! That was Luke!”

“But you knew.” He stands now, slow and deliberate, each step toward you heavier than the last. “And you laughed.”

“That was after the shock wore off.”

He stops in front of you, so close your breath hitches.

“You like testing me,” he says, almost gently.

Your voice is soft. “You like watching me squirm.”

His lips curve. “Only when you’re cornered.”

Your heart kicks up. “You don’t scare me.”

“No?” he murmurs, leaning in. “Then why do you look like you’re about to run?”

“I’m not—”

He reaches out—slow, precise—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your skin like a dare.

You forget how to breathe.

“You know what the real game is?” he says, voice low enough to curl around your spine. “It’s not about revenge. Not anymore.”

You stare at him, pulse racing.

“It’s about seeing how long we can keep pretending this tension is just about pranks.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He leans in closer, mouth inches from yours. “So go ahead,” he whispers. “Run. Or…”

His breath brushes your skin.

“…stop pretending.”

And in that moment, the air between you threatens to collapse entirely.

Your heart is hammering.

You can hear it—feel it—each thud echoing through your ribs like a countdown.

But nothing moves. Not him. Not you.

Just that impossible closeness and the weight of everything left unsaid pressing in like gravity.

Sylus doesn’t touch you again.

He doesn’t need to.

He’s right there, his presence overwhelming in its stillness, in the way his eyes never leave yours. Not even to blink.

Not even for air. It’s like he’s daring you to look away first.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

The tension is a live wire between you, buzzing, pulsing, dangerously taut.

You could lean in.

He could close the distance. Just one breath more.

One slip.

One break in control.

And everything would unravel.

But neither of you moves.

Because this isn’t about the kiss.

It’s about the pause before it.

The ache of proximity. The heat of restraint.

The mutual, wordless recognition that something’s changed, tilted—irrevocably—but no one wants to name it yet.

His voice, when it comes, is almost a whisper. “Still not scared?”

You swallow, your voice quieter still. “Should I be?”

He leans in just enough for your foreheads to almost touch. “Terrified.”

And there it is again—that exquisite push and pull. That dangerous promise wrapped in affection, mischief, and a power you’ll never quite untangle.

You feel the breath leave your lungs. “Then why haven’t you done anything?”

Sylus doesn’t smile this time. Not quite.

Instead, his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips, then lingers there.

“Because I like this,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“This moment,” he murmurs, voice velvet-dark. “Where you’re still trying to pretend you have the upper hand.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And when I finally take it from you,” he continues, “you’ll know it wasn’t by force.”

His eyes lift back to yours—slowly, intently.

“It’ll be because you gave it.”

Your breath hitches.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Not forward. Not back. Just there.

Waiting.

Like he can stay in this moment forever, balanced at the edge of something dangerous and devastating.

Just to watch you fall first.

He’s still watching you.

Still waiting.

Like he’s reading your every thought, every twitch of hesitation, every part of you that wants to lean in and the part that still clings to the illusion of control.

You don’t speak.

You just look at him.

And that’s all it takes.

Because Sylus moves with the precision of someone who’s already planned this moment ten steps ahead.

One hand rises—fingers brushing your jaw, your cheek, slow as silk.

The other curls gently around your waist, pulling you forward, not forcefully, but with the promise of no escape.

You barely get the chance to gasp before his mouth captures yours.

It’s not a gentle kiss.

It’s deliberate. Consuming.

Like he’s reminding you exactly who you’ve been playing games with.

There’s heat, yes, but more than that—there’s command.

The way his lips move against yours, the way his hand tilts your chin just so, the way your breath disappears entirely beneath his—all of it says, you’ve lost.

And god, you let him.

Your hands curl into his shirt, trying to hold on—anchor yourself.

But he deepens the kiss and everything tilts with it.

The pressure of his body, the taste of him, the sound you make without meaning to—it all blends together in something dangerous.

And then, you feel it.

A faint, thrumming pulse in the air.

A crackle of invisible tension winding around your wrists.

You pull back just barely, lips parted, dizzy. “What—”

Too late.

Energy winds up your arms like silken thread—cool, weightless, until it suddenly binds.

A shimmer of red-black tendrils coils around your wrists, tugging them behind your back, smooth as liquid steel.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing steady, unbothered. “You like playing with fire,” he murmurs, voice low and calm. “But you forget—I am the fire.”

With a flick of his fingers, the energy coils tighten. Your arms are pulled behind you, secured to the low railing of the console desk behind you—elegant, efficient, inescapable.

Then, as if that weren’t enough—he slides a metal cuff into place around your right wrist.

You freeze the second it locks.

You know that cuff.

Dull black, sleek. Lined with tech that silences Evol abilities like a mute button pressed against your skin.

It hums to life with a faint click.

And suddenly, you’re still.

Held.

Caged.

Disarmed.

Your eyes widen. “That’s—”

“—the containment cuff from Tartarus, yes,” he finishes, calmly brushing your hair from your face. “You didn’t think I’d forget to prepare for retaliation, did you?”

You stare at him. “You kissed me just to—?”

He tilts your chin up again, eyes sharp, amused, infuriatingly tender.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says. “Cuffing you was just… a bonus.”

Your mouth opens in protest, but he leans in again, this time slower, deliberate, brushing his lips over yours like a threat.

“Now,” he whispers, “let’s see how long you can behave… without your tricks.”

Then he steps back, leaving you bound to the desk, breathless and flushed, completely and utterly at his mercy.

And he smiles.

Not the cold, amused smile from before.

Something darker. Possessive. Knowing.

“You started this,” he says, voice velvet. “Now you get to see how I finish it.”

You tug against the energy binding your wrists. It doesn’t budge.

The cuff hums faintly at your pulse point, Evol completely silenced.

He stands before you, not gloating—no, that would be too easy.

Too human. He just watches.

Calm. Composed.

Like a man who could undo you in a thousand ways and hasn’t even begun.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice like poured velvet.

You narrow your eyes. “This is so far beyond revenge.”

“Is it?” he muses, brushing a thumb under your chin. “You did challenge me. Repeatedly. In public. With unicorns.”

You glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Immensely.”

And then—crash.

Followed by a shout.

And another crash.

You both freeze.

Sylus exhales, long-suffering, and turns his head just as the door to the control room swings wide open.

Luke bursts in, holding a smoking toaster. “Okay! Who set the oven to incinerate? I was making waffles—”

He stops.

Stares.

Kieran skids in behind him, carrying a fire extinguisher. “We may or may not have caused a minor electrical—”

Also stops.

Stares.

The three of you hold in silence.

You, flushed, cuffed, and restrained against the desk.

Sylus, standing in front of you with the casual elegance of a villain who’s definitely in charge.

Luke, blinking rapidly.

Kieran, slowly lowering the extinguisher.

“Oh my god,” Luke whispers. “Did we walk in on a—”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you bark.

Kieran’s already backing out. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Sylus doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He just looks over his shoulder at them and says, calm as ever.

“Leave. Before I make it permanent.”

Luke raises both hands, stepping back. “Okay! Yep. Carry on. Nothing to see. Just… us. Not here.”

Kieran salutes. “We were never here.”

They vanish.

The door slams.

You exhale through your nose. “I hate them.”

“You encouraged them,” Sylus replies.

“I was peer pressured!”

He hums, reaching for your jaw again, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You always have an excuse.”

“I wasn’t the one who turned revenge into a bondage scene—”

He cuts you off with a low chuckle. “Are you uncomfortable?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it.

Then hiss, “…Yes. In the worst way.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips barely—barely—against yours. “Sit in that discomfort. Feel it.”

He steps back again, and your body instinctively leans forward—straining just slightly against the binds.

His smile turns wicked. “That’s one.”

You blink. “One what?”

“One slip.”

You frown. “What is this, a score counter—?”

“Two.”

You shut your mouth. Scowl.

He watches you with open amusement now. “You’re very expressive when you’re trying not to be.”

“Sylus.”

He leans down, gaze inches from yours, voice soft.

“Be good, and I’ll let you go.”

You don’t respond.

His eyes glitter. “Or don’t. I’m patient.”

And he turns to leave. Leaves you there—bound, breathless, and burning.

“Oh my god!” you shout after him. “You’re the worst!”

From down the hall, Luke’s voice echoes faintly, “Is it safe to make waffles again?”

You scream, “NO!”

And Sylus’s laugh—low, dangerous, victorious—follows you like a storm rolling in.

their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter three: shopping!

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, hurt/comfort (the boys make it up to you), mentions of pornographic moans in jest, smau + fic, 2.3k words

m.list

a/n: '🌽⭐️s' gc from denki's pov

fic underneath smau

You wake up to knocking on your door. Groaning, you stretch and roll out of bed. You stumble over to the door while rubbing your eyes and yawning. You open it, revealing your favourite alpha. He grins down at you with those sharp whites. You blink and smile lazily up at him.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Eijiro says.

“Hey,” you mumble. You step back and open the door wider for him to come in. It still amazes you how he towers over you. You notice he’s in a red hoodie with a sleeveless jacket over the top and track pants. He looks so cosy, and he smells so good.

He hovers by the door and says, “How are you after last night?”

You shrug, “Fine.” Eijiro steps closer to you but you step back reflexively. You don’t want him close to you right now, even if he’s nothing but kind since you met. You wonder whether he would ever get angry at you the way Katsuki had.

Your step back doesn’t go unnoticed. Upon seeing it, Eijiro stops moving forward. It hurts him that his omega is still afraid of him. He clears his throat and says, “I’m really sorry about Bakugou’s behaviour yesterday. He was really worried about you-we all were. He’s just not very good at expressing how he feels.” You nod and look down at your feet.

“Are you hungry?” he asks. You gaze up and see the little crease between his short brows. You’re open your mouth to say ‘no’ when your tummy grumbles. Your eyes widen at the sound and you can feel the blood instantly rushing to your cheeks. Eijiro laughs and it’s the most precious sight. He laughs so whole-heartedly, it puts you at ease. You laugh a bit with him, your embarrassment evident in your flaming face.

He chuckles, “Come on. Why don’t we get you some food? And then after we can go shopping, how does that sound?” You calmed down as he spoke. Now, you tilt your head to the side.

“Shopping?” You question.

Eijiro nods and says, “Yea, the guys and I took today off so we could all spend some time together.” Seeing your pout, he quickly continues, “To shop. Because you don’t have anything.” You hum in response. You tell him you’ll meet him in the kitchen and he nods, shutting the door and giving you some space. You freshen yourself up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen.

When you walk in, you see your alphas leaning over the kitchen table, whisper-shouting at each other. They look up at you with wide eyes upon seeing you. Denki immediately stands up and comes over to you.

“Y/n! We missed you at dinner last night!” He exclaims. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug. Your hands press against his surprisingly solid chest as he squeezes you tight.

You whine quietly, “I can’t breathe.” The chirpy blond pulls back and smiles at you with his hands firmly planted on your upper arms. He leans down and quickly kisses the side of your forehead. You can hear your heart thumping loudly at his sudden affection.

You almost whisper to him, “What’s all this for?”

He pouts, “We missed you! We don’t want our omega to still be upset, okay?” He wraps one arm around your shoulders and leads you over to the kitchen table. Hanta shifts over and pats the cushion next to him. You give him a small smile as you sit down next to him, and Denki sits next to you so you’re sandwiched between them. Opposite, Katsuki and Eijiro sit.

You look at them and see Eijiro smiling at you encouragingly while Katsuki frowns and avoids your gaze. He suddenly grunts and glares at the man across from him.

“The fuck was that for, tape face?!” He growls.

“Don’t be such a dick, Bakubro,” Hanta shrugs.

“No swearing at the table,” Eijiro scolds them as he places a plate and utensils in front of you. You thank him and look down at your plate. You then gaze at the mountain of pancakes in the centre of the table. It smells heavenly, triggering a low grumble from your stomach.

Denki giggles, “Did you hear that? It’s like a little lion is roaring.” You pout at him as he laughs.

“Don’t be so mean,” you mumble. He’s wiping tears from his eyes as he apologises.

You watch as Eijiro starts dishing out pancakes. He places two on your plate and goes back for a third.

You raise your hands, palms towards him as you say, “No no, that’s okay. I’m not that hungry anyway.” His red eyes go wide for a moment before he cracks a smile and places another pancake on your plate.

Hanta points to your plate as he says, “You don’t have to pretend.”

You laugh nervously and whisper an “Okay” before looking at the toppings on the table. You grab the maple syrup and shake it before opening the lid and watching the sweet syrupy goodness drizzle onto your pancakes.

You’re shocked out of your thoughts by a moan from beside you. You look at Denki who's chewing happily on his pancakes. He swallows and licks his lips before looking over at you.

He smirks, “They’re really good. You should hurry up and give them a try.” You grin at him and nod, closing the cap of the maple syrup. You continue adding toppings to your pancakes as Denki sighs and moans every so often.

He catches your eyes mid-sigh and says, “You know, Katsuki makes the best pancakes! He actually made these for you.” You glance over to Katsuki who is hunched over the table, devouring his pancakes. He doesn’t pay any attention to you (he’s actually focusing solely on you but he doesn’t want you to know). You nod at Denki’s words, seeing Katsuki’s standoffish behaviour.

You start cutting into your pancakes when once again, the peaceful morning atmosphere is interrupted by another one of Denki’s loud moans.

Hanta sighs, “Denki, bro. They’re not that good.”

The blond pouts and says, “Shut up, doofus. They are that good.”

Hanta chews as he says, “You sound like you’re in a porno.”

Your eyes widen as you take your first bite of your pancakes. You sigh in pleasure. The fluffiness melts on your tongue while the sweetness nips and tickles your insides. It inundates your tastebuds.

You haven’t tasted anything this delicately divine in months. The table has their eyes on you. Even that stubborn one opposite you. You look up, redness returning to your face.

You raise a hand to cover your mouth as you say, “They really are that good.” They laugh at you, Denki calling “I told you so” as they do.

You continue to eat in silence (except for Denki’s pornographic moans). Once Katsuki finishes, he grumbles as he starts cleaning up the table. You’re the last to finish. When you do, the angry blond is by your side grabbing your plate.

You gaze up at him, syrup glistening on your lips as you lick it away. You thank him for making you pancakes and he grunts in response, never looking at you once. Maybe he really is bad at expressing how he feels, you think.

After breakfast, Denki gives you a pair of his track pants to wear (cause he has the most slutty hips out of them all). They fit well enough besides from being too long on you. You then change into another of Eijiro’s shirts and fix your hair.

You meet your alphas in the entryway, and you slip on your shoes from when you first arrived. You all pile into Katsuki’s car and he drives you to the mall.

You can feel your mood lifting as you walk around the shops. How long has it been since you’ve done this? It feels so… normal compared to what your life has been like lately. You find yourself smiling more and more as you walk into various shops, and the boys gossip about your change in mood when you’re not looking.

At first, you mainly stick with Eijiro or Denki as you’re unsure of browsing alone. In every clothes store you walk into, your alphas fight over what they think you would look best in, seldom agreeing on one garment. The sight freaks you out at first but you soon learn that that’s how they are. And it starts to make you giggle.

You end up leaving them crowded around a table of jeans to look at a display that caught your attention. You look at the shirts and shorts sprawled out on the table, picking up those you like one at a time to admire them.

You hum to the song playing in the background as you continue browsing, picking up pieces that you think would look good on you. At some point, the boys realise that you’ve wandered off and go into panic mode. They spread out in the huge store to look for you.

They find you fairly quickly, being pro heroes n’ all. Eijiro takes your armful of clothes and heads to the fitting rooms with you. He places the clothes in the stall before telling you he’ll be waiting outside. You nod and start trying on the clothes. 

You don’t like most of them. They fit funny, the mirror makes you look fat, and the puffy sleeves give you man shoulders. You sigh after taking off another shirt that’s far too tight on the chest area. You sit down on the little stool provided and groan at the thought of putting all of these clothes back on their hangers.

After two hours of clothes shopping, you end up with one bag of a few clothes that Katsuki paid for and is carrying.

You walk together, Katsuki in front, Denki by your side, and Eijiro and Sero behind you. Your legs are aching from all of the walking and standing you’ve been doing. You don’t have the pro-hero stamina the boys do. Denki leans down slightly as he points to the bag Katsuki’s carrying.

He says, “Don’t you want more?”

You shake your head before replying, “Most of them fit weird.” He hums in response. Without thinking, you gently tug on Denki’s long sleeve.

“Can-Oh, um,” you start. His nervous chuckles cut you off. He quickly reassures you that it’s fine, and you continue, “Can we sit down for a bit?”

Denki claps happily. He turns around to the pair behind you and says excitedly, “Ladies! Guess what time it is?!” Hanta shrugs while Eijiro sighs.

“It’s time to get manicures!!” Denki exclaims. You giggle at his enthusiasm.

On the way to the nail salon, Hanta groans about how embarrassing this is (but secretly, you think he likes it the most). Once you arrive, you are split up. You hum as you sit at the little counter, watching the nail technician clip your cuticles away.

As they start filing your nails, you look up and around the quaint salon. You notice how relaxed the boys seem. Except for Katsuki. Kinda. You can see him scowling and staring intently as the nail tech trims his nails. The sight warms your heart and makes you feel all fuzzy for some reason.

He doesn’t seem so bad, you think. You two aren’t exactly best buds, but you feel more comfortable with the prospect of getting to know him now.

When you get up to wash your hands at the basin, you run into Denki staring at the nail polish wall. You come up beside him and ask him what colour he’s going to choose.

“I always do black but, I’m thinking of doing silver this time,” he says. He grabs a dark grey-silver polish from the wall and asks you what you think. You tell him that you like it.

He grabs your hand, his touch warm. His skin is so milky, you think, as you stare at your hands. He places the bottle of nail polish next to your pointer finger and looks up at you expectantly.

He beams, “Look! We should get matching!” You chuckle and take the bottle from him, observing it and thinking his proposition over.

In the end, you two get matching polish. You’re giggling dumbly as you walk out, looking at each other’s hands and saying you should take a photo. The suggestion seems to set off light bulbs in Denki’s mind.

“A phone!” He exclaims. You shrug, and he turns around. He starts rambling to the other alphas about how they should get you a phone. Naturally, you protest this idea because you don’t want them to spend so much money on you (it makes you feel bad), but they insist. Something about keeping in touch or whatever.

You relent and let them take you to one of those enormous and overly bright tech stores. You wander around the store, following the boys to where all of the phones are. You see that they’re selling the phone you’ve been eyeing for months before you were kidnapped.

You signal to your pick and soon, you’re strolling out of the store with your new phone in your hands. You thank them for being so generous and kind to you before heading back to the house.

When you get back, you flop down on your bed and shut your eyes for a few minutes. You feel content to just lie there and think over everything that has happened today. How sweet everyone — even Mr Grumbles — has been to you. The thought of them arguing and of your manicures brings a smile to your face.

Eventually, you convince yourself to sit up and unpack everything Katsuki bought for you. You save your new phone for last. Giggling excited, you grab the box and begin carefully opening the packaging. You slot your SIM card in and of course, groan as you have to go ask someone for the WIFI password. Shortly, your new phone is all set up. You grin wide as you look down at it and ‘Hello’ stares back at you.

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06

when they're drunk

izu, katsuki, kiri, shoto

wc: 360

midoriya izuku

super lightweight ⟶ two shots of vodka and he’s already drunk

clingy and wants lots of affection

will lay on top of you and tell you about his all might merch collection and trading cards ⟶ actually unable to shut up until he inevitably falls asleep on you

doesn’t usually like the taste of alcohol so prefers a piña colada or cocktail

he’ll usually have a drink when going out with the dekusquad cause he doesn’t want them to feel like their drinking alone ⟶ y’all know tenya is the DD

bakugou katsuki

heavyweight

goes red in the face, ears, neck and chest when drunk

prefers beer on tap

actually doesn’t drink that much cause he doesn’t want to lose control of himself like shitty hair; usually the DD for the bakusquad

the other reason why he doesn’t like to get drunk is because he feels sad and lonely ⟶ with you around, he’ll ask you questions about how much you love him and talk about how jealous he gets when he sees you with other men before giving you cuddles

kirishima eijiro

gets fucked up; life of the party and tearing up the dance floor; hitting on the ladies relentlessly

just mindlessly happy n’ extroverted, especially when drunk

would like to think he’s a heavyweight for manliness points, but isn’t

convinces denki and sero to go do something reckless and dumb, like go to a seven eleven and see who can drink a large of all the slurpee flavours first

tries to convince you that he’s not drunk when bakugou calls you to pick him up ⟶ his tongue is rainbow and he’s got the worst stomach ache ever; you don’t need an explanation

goes for hard liquor ⟶ tequila, vodka, whiskey, bourban

todoroki shoto

has never been drunk before

really smiley when tipsy, laughs at all your jokes, talks more than usual

he’s quite alert still, even when he’s tipsy ⟶ he’ll pick up on the lingering scent in the air if you’ve cooked dinner hours earlier

prefers sake ⟶ the only alcohol in the todoroki household was sake, so it’s the drink he’s most familiar with

he’s not very adventurous ⟶ tried a gin and tonic once and it got the nod of approval

nom nom nom this ate so trucking hard please say it louder katsuki for the people in the back

a/n. once again, i have been inspired by a random instagram reel. i didn't even watch it, really—i just saw the keyword and was immediately spurred into writing this. enjoy <3 (0.9k)

you feel his gaze on you before you even think of meeting it.

“what,” you state more than ask when he doesn’t let up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the book you’re reading.

a scoff resounds from his direction. then: “too lazy to even move your shitty eyes?”

“don’t have to,” you retort as you finally close the paperback, shifting in your bed to regard him. “you’re boring holes into my face with all that staring.”

from where he’s seated at your dining table, bakugou grumbles, although he doesn’t deny the allegations. your face softens when you realize belatedly that he’s being awfully quiet—a jarring juxtaposition to his usual brashness.

something’s up.

but you know better than to pry it from him.

you mentally sigh. the roundabout way it is.

“what, am i extra pretty today?” you joke out of your ass, and that catches him off guard because he chokes on his own spit. that wasn’t part of the plan but you can’t help it—you laugh as he coughs his lungs out, somehow managing to throw in a curse or two in between rasps.

“shitty fucking—” he hacks some more, and when he finally recovers: “i don’t know why i fucking put up with you.”

you shrug, not at all hurt by the otherwise scathing statement. he’s said that to you too many times to count and yet, he’s still here. hanging out with you in your apartment on a friday night, no less.

you don’t point out any of that, though, confident that said knowledge is true enough for the both of you to leave it unspoken. so instead, you continue down the jesting route. “you wouldn’t know how to talk to girls without me, that’s why.”

“fuck off,” he tosses without missing a beat. “i can get the fuck by without your shitty ass guidance.”

that makes you grin, because no, he definitely can’t. how can he when he refuses to do the very first step? as in, choose a girl to talk to?

you know, someone who isn’t you.

his reluctant (best) friend.

and as if he read your mind, he shoots you a pointed look. “and i told you,” he hisses, “you use up all my fuckin’ tolerance. can’t have another girl around because you drive me crazy enough.”

“thanks, kats. i love you, too.”

“whatever,” he answers petulantly as he looks away, although you catch wind of the faint tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks like it always does when you shower him with affection—to his chagrin.

“so…” you start when neither of you says anything for a moment, “am i extra pretty today? or do you wanna share, i don’t know, something.”

“if i spit it out, will you fucking stop badgering me about how you look? you haven’t even showered today, for fuck’s sake.”

a pillow is flung across the room before you can think against it.

“wha—” he gets out instinctively before dodging it with ease. you roll your eyes as he flashes you a victorious smirk. of course. of all the jobs he could have in the world, he had to be a pro-hero and have the signature pro-hero reflexes.

his countenance then morphs as he stares at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, and you have to bite back the fuck you that’s dangling at the tip of your tongue. instead, you give him a curt nod, feigning nonchalance to further coax him into spilling whatever’s in his mind.

“go on,” you press when he doesn’t follow it up immediately after.

“i’m getting to it, alright? jesus.”

a pause.

then, another.

and when you’re finally convinced he’s just playing with you and won’t reveal whatever secret he’s got hidden behind the vault he calls his lips, he says it.

“i’m getting a vasectomy.”

you blink at him.

that was not what you were expecting.

“wh—what?”

you can only watch him in utter bewilderment as he flushes, covering up his fluster with a glare. “you heard me.”

“but, kats,” you begin, not knowing how to say the next bit, “…you’re a virgin. and you’ve never been with anyone romantically.”

the pink from earlier instantly deepens into a scarlet. “so what, hah? you’re the one to talk!”

“no, no,” you manage to respond, slowly shaking your head. you have no idea what’s happening. “that wasn’t meant to be a roast. like, at all. it’s just…why?”

bakugou doesn’t answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips into a thin line.

“you said it yourself, didn’t you?” he says after a while, voice uncharacteristically hushed, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him. you lean in ever so minutely, straining to listen from a few feet away.

“said wait?” you ask, matching the stillness of his tone.

“that birth control fucks you up.”

at that, you barely manage to school your shock into a neutral expression, although it’s definitely your heart that’s suddenly hammering wildly against your chest at his admission. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. his gaze is dizzyingly penetrating as you struggle to get your words out, until you finally manage a warbled “y-yeah.”

he probably meant that birth control fucks you—women—up, and not you you.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

with this new strand of knowledge, you’re able to muster a genuine smile his way. “that’s very thoughtful of you, kats.”

and just because you like to be sure of things, you throw in the next thing for good measure.

“she’ll be very lucky to have you.”

silence.

“hah?!”

(the keyword was vasectomy lol) (petition for more birth control methods for men)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

valentine's day with the boys

shoto, denki, katsuki, shinsou, shiggy, kiri, izuku, tamaki, tenya, touya, hanta x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, college au, 2.7k words

a/n: happy valentine's day!! sloppy kisses for all of you mwah. i have over 200 followers now which is actually insane. thank you so much for all of your support! i hope this feeds you well.

todoroki shoto

⭑.ᐟ he has been eyeing you for a few months now and makes an effort to speak to you most days, even though you do most of the talking.

for valentine's day, he gets you an expensive perfume and lipstick he thinks compliments you so well (pays with his dad’s card ofc).

the day before valentine’s, he catches up with you after class and asks you to take a walk with him. he leads you to one of the quiet gardens and presents you with the gifts he bought for you.

“can i be your valentine?” he says quietly. he's blushing a little as he stares at you. you nod, thanking him and reassuring him that you’d love for him to be your valentine.

on your valentine’s date, you wear the perfume and lipstick he got you (they suit you so well!). he surprises you with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and takes you to his favourite noodle place. he gets their signature yakisoba (duh) and makes recs for you. you try his soba and moan in delight, stunning the poor boy who’s so nervous rn that he’s actually going out with you. he listens to you yap with stars in his eyes, more than content to get drunk on your voice

the night ends with a tender hug and a promise to go out again sometime.

kaminari denki

⭑.ᐟ he has been stuck in the friend zone for the past year. literally trying to rizz you up every chance he gets but is rejected every time (he cries laughs it off).

the day before valentine’s, you enlist denki’s help to make some goodies for your uni’s bake sale tomorrow.

he confesses his love to you via a heart-shaped jam cookie, telling you how he’s been in love with you since you met and that all those times he asked you out weren’t jokes. his feelings just spill over as he holds the warm cookie in his hands, gazing at it with rosy cheeks.

“i just-fuck-i really like you y/n and i want to be your valentine. can i—” you pick up the cookie from his palm and take a bite. your eyes widen because it tastes good. you bring the other side up to his half-open mouth and shove it in. he chews on the delicious cookie but, almost chokes on it as you giggle and tell him that you like him too, that you’d love for him to be yours.

on valentine’s day, you two help out with the bake sale. afterwards, you two walk around campus, handing out the leftover goodies to anyone in sight. you then book it back to your place for the night and make dinner together (as if he cooks).

after dinner, you two cuddle up on the couch and watch a rom-com.

bakugou katsuki

⭑.ᐟ he’s been tolerating you for a while. it’s only when hanta suggests asking you to be his valentine that bakugou realises how much he wants you.

the day before valentine’s, he waves you over during hockey practice (arf arf arf for hockey player bakugou omfg yummy yum bark bark rawr rattling my cage). you point to yourself, mouthing “me”. he just smirks and saunters up to you.

once you’re within reach, he tugs you close and smashes his lips on yours. you meet his rough kiss with wide eyes before softening and melting into his warm embrace.

when he pulls away, he demands that you be his valentine, “this shit is for losers but, you’re my valentine, alright?” he grunts. you blink at him, unable to think straight. seeing that dumb look on your face, he tugs you back into another passionate kiss. when he pulls back this time, you nod and whisper that you’ll be his.

on valentines day, you two go to a museum together (because you think history is cool or whatever) and have lunch afterwards.

the date ends with a sweet kiss as you have a new bf now hehe.

shinsou hitoshi

⭑.ᐟ he’s been working on a new song for valentine’s day (inspired by you ofc). he asks you to come over to his place a few days before valentine’s so he can show it to you. toshi knows how much you love hearing him play.

he’s peeking out his bedroom window, watching for any sight of you at least ten minutes before you agreed to meet him. when you show up, he rushes down the stairs and orders everyone not to open the door.

he invites you inside while running his hands through his hair and leads you to the garage. you sit down on the chewed-out sofa and watch him excitedly as he plays his latest song on his guitar, singing with a delicious rasp. he keeps his eyes on you the entire time. when he’s finished, you ask him what inspired him.

“you did, kitten. i want you to be my valentine… n’ maybe something more. how does that sound?” he says, smirking. you’re stunned by the fact that he feels this way about you. you giggle and stutter nervously about how much you would like that.

on valentines day, you spend the day in toshi's garage. he teaches you how to play the guitar on one of his older ones. he ends up tickling you and lying on top of you on his sofa, peppering you with kisses and whispering sweet-nothings.

congratulations, you have acquired a hot lead guitarist bf.

shigaraki tomura

⭑.ᐟ holy moly has this man been pining for you for far too long. he’s been overthinking asking you to be his valentine since the start of the year.

a week before valentine's day, you offhandedly mention that you like snake/spider bites when chatting with toga on the way to class. shiggy – being the loser that he is – was trailing behind you two, eavesdropping.

after class, he finds touya and asks to take him to a good piercer. that afternoon, he’s gritting his teeth as he gets his lip pierced with touya standing in the corner, filming (like the little shit he is).

the next day, you block shiggy from entering class. you stand in front of him, rocking to the side when he tries to get past you. he hides beneath his cap but you grab his chin and tilt his gaze toward you, taking in his new piercings with a creased brow.

you tell him that you saw touya’s instagram post and needed to know for sure if he got it done. shiggy grumbles and tells you to go away but you grab his wrist and tug him to a nearby bench. plopping down on it, you ask if he’s okay, and he mutters that he’s fine. avoiding your gaze, he asks if you like them, if you like him.

“you like these, right? cause… i-i got them f’you. cause i like you… or whatever.” you give him the biggest cuddle and reassure him that you love them and that you really like him.

you two spend valentine's day at shiggy’s apartment playing video games. you gently kiss his face after he smashes through so many levels, careful to avoid his fresh piercing.

kirishima eijiro

⭑.ᐟ he's liked you for a few months now; he’s enraptured with your presence and personality, your beauty, your everything.

eiji buys you a gorgeous bouquet of your favourite flowers and surprises you with them at your place. he tells you straight out that he likes you and that he wants you to be his valentine.

“i’ve liked you for a while now and i want you to be my valentine. maybe even my girlfriend if you’ll consider it," he says, gazing at you intensely. you tell him that you’ll start with being his valentine and kiss him on the cheek, taking the bouquet from his arms.you’re blushing hard as you ask him how he knew what your favourite flowers were (he asked your friends).

on valentines day, he’s got a boxing match. he gets you a front-row seat, and you cheer so loud for him the entire time he fights. emerging victorious, you stand up and clap, causing the people around you to do the same.

you meet him out the back and pepper his face with sweet kisses before catching his lips in a tender one. you two go out for dinner that night (his treat ofc).

over ice cream, you talk about your greatest fears and biggest ambitions.

he drops you back at your place that night and kisses you goodbye, promising you that he’ll become a man who’s worthy of dating you.

midoriya izuku

⭑.ᐟ he's probably pining for you since middle school or something. he writes you a four-page love letter detailing his love and admiration for you.

izu slips it in your bag during a study session a week before valentine's day. he gets really nervous the next day when you see each other but is immediately disheartened when you don’t say anything about it.

it’s only the day before valentines you find the letter (it slipped out of your bag as you were searching for a hair tie). you read it with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat.

after calming down, you head to his place. opening the door, izuku is met with you clutching his now tear-stained love letter in your hands. you throw yourself in his awaiting arms and apologise profusely for not finding it sooner. he shushes you and reassures you that it’s okay.

“don’t be sorry. i should have just told you that i liked you. d-do you-um feel that way too, y/n?” you nod enthusiastically and kiss him with shaky lips, his freckled cheeks cupped in your wet hands

izu takes you on a picnic for valentines day near the river. over sandwiches and cheesecake, you laugh about how long you’ve both been crushing on each other.

tamaki amajiki

⭑.ᐟ he's been crushing on you for years. he tries three times in the lead-up to valentine's day to ask you to be his.

the first time, you find him sitting in a corner at the library. you whisper to a very quiet tama about the upcoming assignment for one of your courses. when you finish speaking, he opens his mouth to ask you to be his valentine but, the librarian shoots you two a dangerous look and tells everyone to be quiet.

the second time, you’re walking out of class with nejire yapping away when he catches sight of you. neijire knows how much he likes you and tells you that he needs to talk to you about something. you hum and go up to tama, asking him if everything is okay. he starts mumbling that he likes you when mirio shows up out of nowhere and pulls you two into his burly frame, asking if you’re excited about the game tonight.

the third time, you’re catching the train home together after choir practice. you sit next to each other, you yapping away and tama listening nervously (he can’t stop staring down as he picks at a loose thread on his pants). as the train draws nearer to your stop, he starts panicking.

he looks up with wide eyes and quietly confesses to you, "s-sorry y/n i-i l-like you. a lot. please be—consider— being m-my valentine.” he scrunches his eyes shut, afraid of your reaction. you press the softest kiss to his cheek and whisper in his ear that you’d love to be before getting up and waving goodbye.

on valentines day, you go to a food market and spend the day sampling all of the different foods (the grilled octopus is your favourite).

your date ends with you giving him a warm hug and telling him to text you when he gets home. after texting you, he collapses on his bed, overthinking everything that just happened.

iida tenya

⭑.ᐟ who is the top student in every single one of his courses, and who has no time for dating outside of his busy study, extracurriculars, and work schedule. but then he meets you during a tutorial, and boy is he smitten.

it’s the day before valentine’s when you two sit with each other in the library for your weekly study session. the librarian kicks you out at 9pm and tenya walks you to the train station.

you’re about to head off to your platform when he catches your hand. it’s silent except for the distant whirring of cars and the trembling of train tracks. no one else is around to witness how gently he holds your hand, his finger intertwining with yours. you ask him what’s wrong but he shakes his head.

he clears his throat and pushes up his glasses before asking you, “would you like to be my valentine?” you chuckle and nod, drawing closer to him and grabbing his other hand. you kiss his jaw tenderly and skip off to your platform before you miss your train.

on valentines day, tenya takes you to the ballet. by the end, you’re in tears, clutching his hand. you’re one of the last to leave the theatre, tenya wiping your eyes and rubbing your back.

that night, he promises you he’ll make time for you in his busy schedule and gives you a big cuddle before parting ways.

todoroki touya

⭑.ᐟ he's actually been obsessed with you since you were kids and plotting to make you his since the moment you accidentally threw a building block at his head on the first day of kindergarten (he still has a little scar near his hairline from your attack).

this is finally the year that he’s gonna do it (he tells himself).

as part of his therapy, he does recreational candle-making. he knows how much you love candles since you’re always adding a new one to your collection, texting him pictures of them and claiming that this one is “different”.

he chuckles as he pours different oils into the boiling wax, thinking about how he’ll give you something you’ve never seen before.

a few days before valentine’s, he’s got your candle all wrapped and tied with a pretty bow (fuyumi’s work). he's standing near the garden on your route to your favourite coffee shop (he knows that you'll be getting hungry around now). as soon as he sees you, he's suddenly the same five-year-old boy who’s giddy from the blood rushing to his head and the apologetic mumbles from your mouth as you sobbed.

you notice him and wave as you walk over to him. you're grinning as asking him how he is. he tries to act cool (as per usual), but his heart rate is off the charts. he’s breaking out into a sweat, about to start panting from his nervousness.

those icy blue eyes widen as you press the back of your hand to his forehead, claiming he has a fever. he shakes his head; a moment of clarity.

he thrusts the candle into your hands as he blurts out, “willyoubemyvalentine?” you accept and throw your arms around him, reassuring him that you’d like nothing more.

that night, you blow up his phone with how much you love your new candle.

on valentine’s day, you two make it your mission to try every flavour of slurpee from your local seven eleven. with belly aches and rainbow tongues, you two lie on your couch and confess your long-held feelings for one another.

sero hanta

⭑.ᐟ he’s been crushing on you for a few months now.

at eijiro’s house party, he gets dared by the bakusquad to ask you out for valentine’s day. with shaky hands and an even shakier resolve, he comes over to you and asks if he can take you outside.

the cool breeze provides the reprieve you two need from the heap of sweaty bodies, scent of alcohol, and endless making out inside. you ask him if everything’s okay, but he shakes his head.

stuffing his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, he mumbles, “y/n, I really like you, okay? do you wanna be my valentine?” you playfully shove his shoulder, telling him that, obviously, you do.

you two spend the rest of the night sitting in hammocks and drunkenly chatting over your feelings and the latest gossip at uni

on valentine’s day, hanta teaches you how to skateboard at your local skate park. it’s embarrassing wearing all of these pads to protect your joints, but oh-so-necessary with the number of times you fall over. he holds your hands and laughs at you when you rock side-to-side, but he always encourages you to keep going.

afterwards, you two grab some ice cream and sit at the back of the parlour. like all cute couples, you feed each other your different flavours and hold hands as you walk home.

you ask a red-faced hanta if he wants to be your boyfriend, and he says yes.

the best kind fr🫡 hoping to write more fics along these lines tbh

birthday gift

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — no quirk college!au, bit of angst, mostly fluff, 2.9k words, this is for you sanrio girlies!

Bakugou, like every other guy outside of the Sanrio-sphere, thought you were a little bit crazy when he saw your My Melody keychains dangling from your denim shoulder bag. When you two were on your first date and you got super excited over the café you went to doing Hello Kitty and Friends latte art, he grumbled and made a mental note that you were definitely crazy. And after you two started dating, and he saw your Sanrio plushie collection and themed slippers, he knew for sure you were insane. But even then, he couldn’t stop hanging around you.

There was something so attractive about you, magnetic. Maybe it was how you giggled so cutely and femininely whenever you teased him, or how beautiful and big your eyes looked when they stared up, into his own sharper and fierce ones. He was drunk on the way your hips swayed ever-so-slightly when you walked, and the way you sucked your lower lip between your teeth when concentrating hard. Even in the exam hall, he found himself stealing glances at you. You who was fiercely scribbling away on your own exam paper, alternating between biting and licking your lip. And of course, who, other than Bakugou, would kiss you better after such a taxing exam?

The point being, he couldn’t get enough of his crazy lil’ girl. You had been on his mind impossibly more since your birthday was coming up this Friday. He was contemplating whether to take you back to the Hello Kitty latte art café or to get you something Kuromi themed. He was overthinking like crazy, blond brows furrowed, mouth twisted into a scowl as he death-stared his notebook during his 11am lecture. What gift would be good enough for his perfect princess?

Bakugou’s frustration radiated off him, rippling in waves that had Denki, who was sitting next to him, leaning away and over to Kirishima. He whispered, “Did I do something or?” The red-haired boy shook his head, stealing a long glance at his clearly annoyed best friend. Denki sat on the edge of his seat, leg bobbing up and down as he and Kirishima exchanged glances. “Stop that.” Bakugou turned to look at the both of them, the command ripping out of his throat like a snarl. Denki squeaked a little in response, his leg stilling. He leaned even closer to Kirishima, whispering in his ear, “It was me! What did I do that was so wrong? Why does Bak—”

“Shut up!” Bakugou almost yelled. Students around the trio were beginning to look over at them, curious as to what had set the ash-blond off this time. Denki seemed to be the culprit in their eyes. Kirishima pushed Denki by the shoulder away, now leaning over him to tell Bakugou to keep his cool because he was making a scene. Bakugou scoffed in response, turning away from the pair and folding his arms across his chest.

For the remainder of the lecture, Bakugou couldn’t focus — not that he was focusing in the first place. Once it hit 1pm, he got up and stalked out of the hall, not waiting for his companions. He fell into into his usual walk, shoulders hunched, books under his arm, hands in his pocket. From behind him, he could hear his friends calling after him, but he ignored them as he usually does and made his way to the soccer field.

Allow me to clarify, Bakugou doesn’t play soccer, and while his friends do, their practice is usually later in the afternoons. Furthermore, you don’t play soccer. But your friend, — and unfortunately, Bakugou’s ol’ high school gossiper — Mina, is the captain of the cheerleading team who are practising on the soccer field for next week’s game. With B1 and B2 running after him, Bakugou comes to the field, spotting the pink-haired girl with her back to him, standing in front of her team. She doesn’t notice him until he draws closer, oblivious to his presence as she gives feedback on the performance run they just finished. “Ochaco, I need a little more enthusiasm from you—”

“OI! PINKY!” Mina turns around, seeing Bakugou stomping his way over to her and Kirishima and Denki puffing hard a few metres behind him. She turns back around, telling her team to take five. The team dissipates quickly, like a school of fish scurrying away from a shark. She sighs, turning around and placing her hands on her hips. “What do you want, grumpy?” She narrows her eyes at the boy as he stops a few feet away. He rolls his eyes, already regretting his decision to ask for her help in picking out a birthday gift for you.

Bakugou scoffs before starting quietly, “I need your help—” “You WHAT?” Mina has her hand behind her ear, half cupping it as if such a gesture would channel the sound of what she thinks the most stubborn grump said into her ear. Bakugou grits his teeth in response, Kirishima and Denki coming right up behind him. “I need your help, alright?! I don’t know what to get [y/n] for her birthday.” It was as if just saying those words released some of the tension in the ash-blond’s shoulders (because it did). A look of relief washed over Denki, “Oh, so that’s what you’re so cranky about. I thought it was because of m—”

“Shut up, nerd.” Bakugou spared the babbling boy a glare that cut through the air like a knife. He turned back to ‘pinky’ in front of him, hands becoming clammy in his pockets. “So?” Mina looked at him, holding back her laughter until she couldn’t any longer. Bakugou scowled as she laughed at him, clearly amused by the entire situation. “How-how do you-how do you not know what to get your girlfriend for her birthday?” By the time she was finished cackling, she was wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, saying “That was the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“You done now?” Bakugou’s hands had left his pockets so that his arms could cross over his chest once more. His foot tapped against the fresh-cut grass. “Yes, okay okay,” Mina giggled as she regained most of her composure. “Why don’t you just get her something that she told you she wants? Like, didn’t she mention anything that she’s had her eye on?” Bakugou sighed. His voice dripped with sarcasm, “Wow, you’re genius. I hadn’t tried that one.” At this, Mina’s brows furrowed and she pouted, “Well, I’m not the one who can’t think of a gift idea for their girlfriend.”

Bakugou felt that this conversation was taking years off of his life. “Are you gonna help me or not?!” He was leaning forward now, eyes staring holes into the girl in front of him. Kirishima’s hand flew instinctively to his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright bro. Just relax. This isn’t very manly of you.” Bakugou shrugged the red-head’s hand off of him. Mina gave Kirishima a grateful look. Even though the two weren’t dating yet, she was glad to know that he would always have her back. At least, when it came to Bakugou’s temperament.

Mina raised her hands in defence, “Okay okay, I’ll help you. What about getting her something Sanrio-themed? Like a purse or something.” Bakugou sighed again. He was becoming a man of sighs and frustration-wrinkles over this situation. Why was it so hard to just get his girlfriend a gift? He’s gotten you a few before and you had loved them all. Why would this time be any different?

At his quietness, Mina gave Kirishima a look of “Omg is he okay?” To which he shrugged. “Hey, Baku-bro, you right?” Bakugou blinked rapidly, coming back from the depths of his thoughts. He nodded, his voice raspy as he said, “I was gonna but I don’t know, I already got her a Hello Kitty jersey for Christmas.” Mina smiled, remembering how you had texted the group chat that night ecstatic about it. It was only after a month that you had calmed down and started wearing other tops.

“Trust me, she’s gonna love whatever you think of.”

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

Today was your birthday and you were so so excited! You can’t remember ever having been this excited about a birthday before. It was going to be your first ever birthday spent with Bakugou as you two met shortly after your one last year.

You had just woken up. Checking your notifications quickly after turning off your alarm, you notice a text message from your beloved wishing you a happy birthday. You instantly smiled, clicking on the notification to open up your message app and respond with your thanks. You put your phone down, getting out of bed to make it and drink some water. You settle into your morning routine, going about your morning as you always do. The only thing different was that you kept humming and doing little dances, goofing around. You lived in a college dorm alone while your boyfriend lived with his friends in an apartment close to campus. You were excited for the date that he had planned for tonight.

After making yourself some blueberry pancakes with cookies and cream ice cream (fire combo pls try omg you won’t regret it) and devouring them, you hear your phone buzz. Placing the plate and cutlery by the sink, you grab your phone from the bench, the screen lighting up with text messages from ‘Baby Suki’. You giggle to yourself, reading and replying to them. He’s being so kind and caring to you this morning… Just kidding, he’s being his usual self, brash and direct with a dash of sweetness sprinkles.

You notice some other birthday text messages from your friends and peers. You take your time responding to them, your body leaning against the dining table.

Later in the morning, Mina and Ochaco stop by, giving you the most beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. It has you in tears, and you all hug as you cry from joy and they tell you not to cry. They stay over at your dorm for a while. You talk about so many things, from the latest episodes of the show you were watching to your assignments.

Around noon, you hear a knock on your door. You told the girls to stay where they were, Mina protesting about how the birthday girl shouldn’t be working on her birthday, but you paid it no mind. You opened the door, Midoriya standing there holding a homemade charcuterie board.

You squealed in excitement, inviting him inside and leading him to the couches. Once he placed the board on the coffee table, you gave him a big hug. Midoriya returned it with warmth and you told him to stay while you all snacked on his delicious girl dinner.

The three of them stayed with you until it 4pm. You had been so lost in conversation that you hadn’t noticed it had gotten so late. You had stood up frantically, telling them about your date with Bakugou tonight. They looked at you with knowing eyes and left peacefully. Well, everyone but Mina who wiggled her eyebrows at you. But, you would interpret that later.

Now, you had to focus on getting ready for your date. You showered, lathered yourself up in oils and moisturiser, and wrapped yourself in a thick bath robe. You then curled your hair, clipping rollers in so they would set. Next, you worked on your makeup.

Tonight, you were going for a glowy, blush-centric look. The result? It was giving!! You then carefully slipped your dress on. It was a cute maxi dress in your favourite colour that highlighted your waist and décolletage. You had bought this one specifically for your date and you were very excited to wear it out. You finished off by taking out your rollers out and fluffing your hair, spritzing on your favourite perfume, and adding your favourite pieces of jewellery. The clock struck 7pm and your phone buzzed. You ran over to it, reading Bakugou’s message that he was at your door. Weirdo, he usually knocks and then barges in.

You smiled wide, maybe he was just nervous. You strapped on your heels, grabbed your favourite purse with your My Mel keychains attached, and then you were walking to the door. You opened it, Bakugou in a pair of jeans, button-up shirt, and matching denim jacket greeting you. You giggled, immediately crashing into his arms to give him a big bear hug. He chuckled at your affection, one hand around your upper back and the other patting your head. You were in heaven just by being in his arms, inhaling his smoky-sweet scent, and this was just the beginning of the night.

“I missed you.” “I can tell,” he looked down at you, grinning wide. “Wanna get going?” You nodded in response. He had his arm wrapped around you as he whisked you away. Where he was taking you though was a surprise.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

He parked the car on one of the busy main roads, coming over to the passenger side to offer you a hand out of the car. You smiled, enjoying his act of gentlemanliness. He took your hand and let you down the strip, keeping you closest to the shops and him to the road. You walked for a couple of minutes before Bakugou stopped. You stopped too, arm pulled back by his. You looked up at him and watched as he nodded to something behind you. You turned around, hand still holding his. You saw where he had brought you and squealed in delight. You were so happy and excited that you started jumping up and down and gave him a big cuddle. He laughed, teasingly asking you, “Oh, you like?” You nodded and grabbed his hand tight, practically dragging Bakugou into the newly opened Sanrio Miniso.

You two worked your way around the store, Bakugou holding a basket which you filled with careful deliberation. Cinnamoroll perfume, Kuromi flask and matching bento set, blind box, new My Melody slippers. You were ecstatic as Bakugou paid for your birthday haul and carried the bag. Even so, as you two left the store and walked further down the crowded street. You were in a frenzied dopamine daze. You couldn’t stop smiling and giggling and thanking your boyfriend for being so thoughtful and paying for your new Sanrio goodies.

The night was still young. He took you for dinner and ice cream afterwards. All the while, holding your hand or the small of your back and teasing you sweetly. The night ended with him dropping you back to your dorm, walking you to your front door of course. You drew him into a passionate kiss, hands grasping his button-up shirt as his jacket was around your shoulders. He smiled into your lips, hands on the back of your neck and waist. You could taste the caramel ice cream he had eaten only half an hour earlier. It’s sweetness made you melt into his arms, knees weakening as he drew your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at it.

At last, you two pulled away from each other, foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. You breathed out, “Thank you for the best birthday ever.” He chuckled, moving back so he could cup your face in his large hands. He shook his head at you, still laughing a little. “What?” “Nothing,” he smiled. He let go of you, handing you your miniso bag. “I’ll see you later. Don’t stay up too late.” He stepped back. “If I do it’s your fault,” you joked. You turned around, fishing your dorm key out of your bag. Luckily, you found it quickly and unlocked your door. You pushed it open and half-stepped inside before turning to look back at him. He was standing there with his hands in his jean pockets.

“Let me put this down and I’ll give you back your jac—” “Keep it.” And with that, Bakugou walked away. You watched as he stopped at the elevator down the hall and pushed the button.

You dropped your bags inside your door and started running after him. “Bakugou! Wait!” He turned around, eyebrows raised at your enthusiasm and sudden outburst of exercise. You were huffing by the time you reached him. The elevator dinged. You threw your arms around him, your heart beating erratically against his slightly elevated one. The elevator doors opened and closed as you held him and he held you. “What is it?” You looked up at him. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He scoffed and ruffled your hair. “Weirdo,” he said as he pulled away from you. He pressed the elevator down button again and the doors opened. “Go back to your dorm already.” He eyed you as he stepped into the elevator. You giggled and you saluted him. “Yes sir.” The elevator doors shut, taking your boyfriend away from you for the night. You couldn’t stop smiling and excitedly whispering to yourself as you made your way back to your dorm and took your makeup and dress off. Even once you had put your silk pjs on and brushed your teeth, you were still so excited and happy. That night, it took a while for you to get to sleep, but you had the sweetest dreams.

okay so i'm writing an nsfw chapter of my bakusquad omegaverse fic right now and like it's dawning on me like... can omegas even swallow an alphas cumshot?

am i fucking dumb or like??? sorry if you weren't ready to read that btw.

so like right if slick and knotting is turned up to 100 in omegaverse, how could you swallow that knot, ya know? it's like GUSHING mountains of cum like?

i'm not saying that you (as an omega) should take it like in there okay but where else is it gonna go? like on you? i mean yes ma'am but fr like, you're gonna need an everything shower after that cause it's probably soaked into your pores, iced you like a cake.

has anyone else ever had these thoughts before or am i like...😃

okay but plot twist omegas are like snakes. like you know how snakes will lay next to their prey and size them up and like get larger and starve themselves so they can consume their prey.

hear me out... so like, omega's stomachs prepare themselves by speeding up the digestive process to swallow their alphas cum. and the stomach knows to do this because of pheromones the alpha releases as they approach their orgasm. was that too much?

or maybe omegas shouldn't swallow cumshots idk.

bless your sweet souls if this came across your feed i'm dearly sorry but also thank you for taking a moment to glimpse into my mind

upgrade pt.1

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — most of izu's arm has been amputated, hurt comfort, swearing, 4k words, resources used linked at the end, non-mha characters are made-up

pt.2, pt.3, epilogue

You were stirring tofu curry in your kitchen. It’s delicious scent curling up your nostrils, tendrils seeking your body and your home. The television was playing in the back. Sliced spring onions freshly chopped on the wooden chopping board next to the stove. You were humming softly to yourself your favourite song.

Today was the day that your pookie bear, Izuku, was coming back from his month long mission. It had been a gruelling four weeks of rushed phone calls.

Quick “How’s your day been? and even quicker “I love you’s”. You missed his nerdy talk about all the latest heroes new moves and how much he still admires All Might, his cuddles and warm hands on your tummy when it was that time of the month.

You missed how he would always try to pick you up from work, clad in a face mask and Dynamight’s new merch. You missed making dinner together. You missed waking up together whenever you two slept together (cause separate beds in relationships is superior convince me otherwise).

He had been on an undercover mission to bring an underground quirk breeding organisation to justice. The fact that those still existed sent shivers down your spine. One time, you had asked him over call what it was like, being so close to all of that.

To which he dodged with, “It’s what heroes are expected to deal with, so don’t worry about it honey.” You probably shouldn’t have asked as all mission information is classified until the news gets their grimy hands on it. But, it still had taken you back that he didn’t want to talk about it.

But, you know that when he gets home, he’ll be tired but he’ll want to talk. And you’ll sit there, looking up to him, reminded of how strong he is and of how hard he works to protect you, to protect all of Japan. Speaking of which, he should be home by now.

Plucking you from your daze is the reporter’s voice shouting into her mic, “Breaking News!” You turn around, seeing her standing in front of Central Hospital on the small television screen.

“Japan’s Number One Pro Hero ‘Deku’ severely injured during quirk breeding rescue mission.” Your mind goes blank. You rush over to the TV, grabbing the remote, turning the volume up, and plonking down on the tan sofa.

You watch as footage comes on screen, showing Deku, outside of what looks to be an on-fire night club, surrounded by several villains in coordinated suits. Dynamight’s explosions can be heard in the back muffling the screams of girls chained and barely clothed who are being taken out of the building, covered in soot and coughing, by Shoto and Ingenium.

You watch intently as the villains lung at your hero. He dodges, expertly, using the intricacies of One For All to knock them unconscious. As gentlemanly as ever, even when he fights.

But it’s not enough. You continue watching, enraptured by the fight, as the reporter continues, “Pro Hero ‘Deku’, along with other heroes like Japan’s Number Two ‘Dynamight’, Number Three ‘Shoto’, and ‘Ingenuim’ have been on an undercover mission investigating quirk breeding auctions in downtown Tokyo’s underground night clubs for the past month. Tonight, things went awry as Dynamight engages, fed up with the secrecy of the mission, dragging the pro heroes into an intense fight with the villains orchestrating this conspiracy.”

“Of course it’s fucking Dynamight,” you mumble under your breath.

Deku’s now taking five villains at once when the left side of the building collapses due to the flames. It had been the entrance, where Shoto and Ingenium had been hauling out what you assume to be the victims of this scheme.

Shoto hands the young girl in his arms to one the firefighters at scene before turning around and yelling to Deku, “There’s still one more left in the building.”

Your hands have begun to shake. The suspense is wracking your nervous system.

“Deku attempts to dash back into the building when the villains he was just fighting jump onto him—”

They drag him to the ground, delivering some serious blows to his torso. The left side of the building further crumbles in on itself.

“Approaching Deku is another villain known to authorities as ‘Bon Appétit’. Quirk is knife.” Bon Appétit’s arms are comprised of different knives and swords, jutting out, sharp and glinting evilly. You cringe and yelp as the villain thrusts the blades into Deku’s left arm.

“Reeling from this blow, Deku uses One For All at what sources suspect to be full capacity, to fend off the villains and rescue the victim inside. Emerging—” The video pauses on a shot of him, girl on his back, left arm bloodied and dangling limply. From what you can see from the awful lighting, shaky cameraman, and torn shreds of Deku’s suit, his flesh is torn and skin (beneath the blood) has gone purple. No! “Deku’s left arm appears to be severely injured.”

The broadcast cuts back to the reporter outside of Central Hospital. There are a flurry of reporters and police surrounding the entrance to the hospital. She stands with her back to them and continues, “Pro Hero Deku was taken to Central Hospital to be treated shortly after 7pm. Our cameras caught—”

A video of an ambulance pulling up to the entrance plays on screen. Once it’s stopped, Deku is ushered out, flanked by paramedics. Dynamight steps out after him, shouting a string of censored curses and insults after broccoli boy in front—

“footage of Pro Hero ‘Deku’ being escorted by ambulance here with Dynamight and Shoto following suit. Love and support is being poured out by fans to Deku and his family tonight for his swift recovery. Hirota Miu, TBS Television.”

You sit there, hunched over, elbows on knees, shell-shocked. You don’t know how much time passes after the broadcast before you hear your phone ringing. You grab it from the low coffee table in front of you, clicking the green phone icon and bringing it to your ear reflexively.

“Miss [l/n], this is Dr Kita from Central Hospital. Deku gave us your details as his emergency contact.” You blink… and blink again. What? “Deku’s been seriously injured in his recent fight. He’s being prepared for emergency surgery on his left arm right now. You’re welcome to come in and visit once he’s out. The procedure should take 60 to 90 minutes. Just come to the front desk and give your information to the receptionists, and they’ll direct you.”

You stare out the window, looking at all the lights sparkling from above and below your apartment. How could everything seem so peaceful right now when your partner, your hero, was going in for emergency surgery?

“Yes I’ll, um, I’ll be right there. Um…”

“Is there anything else, Miss [l/n]?” You stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to think of what to say.

“No, sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“See you soon then, Miss [l/n].”

You move routinely, going to your bedroom to put on a bra before lacing up some sneakers, throwing on one of Izuku’s hoodies over your t-shirt and mini shorts, and grabbing your bag. You leave your apartment hastily and practically run to the station, taking it to the one closest to Central Hospital.

There are no words to describe how you feel. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest, and not from the exercise. Your skin is crawling with anxiety. Your shirt clings to the sweat dripping down your back, and every so often you wipe your sweat-laced palms on your shorts.

Your thoughts consist of “Is he okay?”, “Why is he going into emergency surgery?”, “That idiot, I told him never to use One For All at 100% because it could lead to some serious damage! He knows that. Why would he risk it?! The blow from that villain was bad enough, why did he have to…?”, and the like. One thought triggers the next, an endless cycle until Central Hospital is towering above your small figure.

You keep it calm and steady as you walk into the lobby. The receptionist greets you and tell her your name and why you’re here. She nods knowingly, not bothering to confirm details and telling you to take the elevator to level 3.

You follow her directions, down the hall and to the left. You’re met with dull blue double doors. The sign above reading ‘Recovery Room’. You push it open, involuntarily inviting numerous stares from doctors, nurses, and recovering patients who are conscious.

A tall, lanky man comes over to you, dressed in slacks and white lab coat. He has a clip board in hand. “I’m Dr Kita. You must be Miss [l/n]. We spoke on the phone.” You nod, trying to gulp down your nerves.

“Mr Midoriya’s surgery will be finished in about,” Dr Kita looks down at his silver watch, “an hour. You’re free to walk around, get some snacks or something. Visiting hours end at 8pm, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He smiles gently at you. You nod and thank him before looking away from him, thinking about how you were going to kill time.

You felt sick to your stomach, knowing that your boyfriend was undergoing surgery at the moment. What else could you possibly think about but that?

“Actually, Dr Kita, I’d like to just wait here.” You look back up at him. He has jet black hair tied neatly into a low bun. His rectangle glasses slip ever-so-slightly down his nose, behind which sleek brown eyes stare at you with a look of understanding.

“You can’t wait in the recovery room but you can wait outside. We’ll call you in once Mr Midoriya’s is out of surgery.”

Your response is a whisper, “Oh… okay.” You look down to your feet, shoulders slumping. Quickly, you pick yourself back up, raising your head back up and asking, “So, I’ll just wait in the corridor?”

Dr Kita nods and says, “That’s fine.”

You turn to leave before realising that you hadn’t even been told what surgery Izuku was undergoing. You turn back around, noticing that Dr Kita hadn’t moved an inch. “What’s his surgery for?”

Long, slender fingers push the glasses back up his hooked nose. He sighs, “Unfortunately, Mr Midoriya’s left arm has suffered trauma beyond repair. The decision was made to amputate part of his arm.” Your mouth falls open. Amputate. His. Left. Arm?

“And who made that decision?” Dr Kita shifts under your piercing gaze. You make a mental note to apologise later for staring daggers into him.

“The trauma surgeon did. He’s in there right now performing the procedure on Mr Midoriya. I understand that this may come as a shock, but he explained to me that it was necessary and urgent to amputate Mr Midoriya’s left arm as the tissues in his forearm and hand were damaged severely. Mr Midoriya was losing too much blood and some bones in the forearm had been shattered. There is too much damage and danger to simply reset the bones and stitch him up. The surgeon’s doing what he can to salvage what’s left of Mr Midoriya’s arm.”

Are you actually hearing this right now? Is this real? Are you actually in the hospital right now, hearing a doctor tell you that Izu-chan’s arm is to be amputated? Did you turn off the curry before leaving? Fuck.

“Do you mean that the whole arm won’t be amputated?” You ask.

“It’s possible that the whole left arm won’t be amputated. The main damage was done at the forearm and elbow.” Dr Kita’s tone was fairly dead-pan. But you’re not thinking about how many patients he must of seen in similar or worse situations, or the worst situations. All you’re thinking about is your boyfriend who might be losing most of his arm right now.

You gulp and say, “I see… Thank you for clarifying. I’ll, um, I’ll go wait outside now.” Dr Kita nods in acknowledgement before you spin on your heel and take your leave.

For the next hour, you pace back and forth, up and down the hallways of level 3. You check your phone every five minutes, making sure that you have enough time for another lap of the level. After one painstaking, anxiety-inducing, palm-sweaty hour, you’re standing outside of the recovery room, waiting to be called in.

You’ve been thinking it over… just how will it be, Izuku without his left arm. He’ll be devastated. He confided in you soon after you two first started dating that one of his biggest fears was pushing his body beyond its’ limits. He wanted to protect people, to be an incredible hero, and he would do anything to achieve that. He was afraid that one day, he would go too far and he wouldn’t be able to come back from that. And then, he wouldn’t be able to protect people anymore. How would he react, knowing that part of that fear had become reality? What would this mean for his hero career? For your relationship?

Even as this new reality dawned on you, not once did you even consider leaving him. How could you? He was the man that you were so deeply in love with. You two were discussing marriage just before he left for that mission. Oh, why did he have to go on that mission?!

He means so much to you. He’s been there for you at some of your hardest times, like when you first moved to Japan to pursue a career at the front of biomedical engineering. Or when the public had found out about you two and had bullied you relentlessly for your quirk due to it’s similarities to All For One’s. It was all the tabloids could talk about for the entire week, before Izuku had released a statement under his agency, clarifying the differences between your quirks and re-affirming his love and trust in you.

He had been the reason that your life in Japan had become so much more inclusive, joyful, and prosperous. Hell, he had even taught you Japanese at the beginning of your relationship, and continues to help you whenever there’s an expression or word that you don’t understand.

That All Might otaku has been there for you through everything. If that had been you. If you had lost your arm. He wouldn’t even consider the possibility of breaking up with you. How could you?

“Miss [l/n].” You’re brought out of your thoughts, seeing one of the nurses peaking out from behind the recovery room doors. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “He’s out.”

You rush over to her, entering when she pushes the door open for you and thanking her. And then, you spot ruffled deep green curls crowding a peaceful looking face. He’s still asleep. You let out a breath.

You follow the nurse over to the side of his bed, where you notice some other doctors in slacks. Dr Kita comes over almost immediately after you do. You’re by Izuku’s side, watching him. Speechless. About half of his left upper arm remains, wrapped beneath bandages with a stocking and drainage tubes attached. You can feel the tears starting come on. You tilt your head back, blinking rapidly. Not now! Not yet.

You look back down. The medical staff are talking in medical gibberish, so you focus on your pookie. It’s not that you can’t understand medical jargon. Being a biomedical engineer, you often work with such terminology. You’d just rather not right now. Not when Izu looks like an angel that’s fallen from the heavens as he sleeps. He’s got little cuts on his face that have been cleaned and had betadine dabbed onto them. His other arm has a cannula in it. It too is scarred and has other minor cuts that have also been cleaned up.

You sit on the side of his bed, waiting patiently for him to wake up. After a few minutes, his eyelids begin to flutter and soon, he opens his beautiful green eyes. You draw in a breath, taking in the dazed look on his face as he looks around and starts to move his head from side to side.

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita says. His voice is calm and steady. It stops you from leaning over to cup Izu’s cheeks. For now anyways.

“Mr Midoriya, can you hear me?” Izuku groans in response, he begins lifting his right hand to touch his face when the nurse beside him gently grabs it mid-air and brings it back down the bed.

“Try to not to move too much, Mr Midoriya," Dr Kita says.

“Ugh,” he groans, his voice hoarse. “What happened?” Dr Kita holds up two of his fingers in front of Izuku’s face.

“Mr Midoriya, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Izu grumbles, “Two.”

“Good. How are you feeling? Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” Izuku shuts his eyes, his brows creased. He hums in response, "Both."

You can’t stop yourself from calling his name this time. “Izu-chan.” His eyes open immediately and he looks down at you from the slightly raised bedhead. He squints, murmuring with uncertainty at first, “[Y/n]?”

You bite the side of your lip, shifting closer to him, “Yea.”

“You’re here, babe.” His voice is still raspy.

You hum in agreement, “Of course, I’m here. You okay?”

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm I—”

Fuck. He goes to move his left hand, presumably up to his face again. He usually rubs the back of neck when gets nervous. But no hand moves. Because there’s no hand to move. You watch, lump in your throat, as he winces, letting out a groan of pain. Your eyes move with his, to the empty space that was the rest of his left arm. He looks back up at you, before turning his gaze to the doctors and nurses watching him cautiously.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand. Am I?” He tries to move his left hand again but lets out another groan. “I-No, this can’t. I—”

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita cuts him off. “Yes, we had to amputate most of your left arm. You had experienced trauma beyond repair to your left forearm and elbow from a combination of severe wounds and the use of One For All at what we suspect to be full capacity. The surgeon decided that this was for the best.”

It’s like you can hear his heart shattering into a million pieces. It shatters alongside your own. The look of pain, of sheer, tortuous, anguish across his face hearing those words, you can’t hold back your tears any longer.

You sniffle quietly as they roll down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice heavy with sadness. You mentally berate yourself for crying, drawing the attention to yourself when it’s not your moment. But, you can’t help it. All you want to do is give your boyfriend cuddles and tell him everything is going to be okay. That you’re going to make it through this together. But all you can do is sit there and start quietly sobbing.

“Honey.” You look up through your tears and fingers trying to wipe them away. He looks like he’s about to start crying too.

Izuku shifts his gaze from you to the doctors. “Can you give us a moment?”

“Mr Midoriya, we need to some che—”

“I’m happy to do whatever checks you want. Please, just give us some space first?”

The doctors look amongst each other, communicating in an unspoken code before taking their leave. You let out a shaky breath, looking at your boyfriend lying beside you.

“Hey," he says, his voice cracking. You both laugh. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands. His right hand grasps your lower back softly.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

“For what? It’s not your fault.” He looks at you with a gentle gaze, just as gentle as his touch.

“I know but I—” you choke on your sobs.

“Hey, it’s alright.” His hand pressures you to move forward so you can lay on his chest. But you don’t. You look up into those glassy green eyes.

“I can’t," you say, your voice tight. One of your hand goes to his chest. “You’re in pain," you continue, shaking your head.

His brows knit together at this, “I-It doesn’t hurt there.” You pause before you nod knowingly.

You too can’t help but want to be close to him like this. You lay your head on his chest with care, hands close to yourself. His right hand strokes the top of your head, scarred fingers threading through your silky [h/c] locks.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him. “You don’t have to pretend it’s okay. I-I know it’s not okay.” You plant a shaky small kiss on his jaw. His hand cups your shoulder.

“Yea,” his voice trembles. “I…” You can feel his chest vibrate with the emotions rising to the surface. You hear him sniffle, and soon, you two just lay there, crying together. One of the nurses brings over a tissue box which you two drain, wiping tears away and blowing noses. No words can articulate the kind of moment you two share.

It’s only when you two have calmed down that you lift yourself up from his chest. You cup his cheek in your right palm and murmur, “You hungry? D’you want some water?” He shakes his head, sniffling up those last tears. You dab his under eyes with the ruined tissue in your other hand.

“I was m-making—” You stop to inhale and exhale a deep breath before continuing, “tofu curry when they called me.” ‘Your favourite’ you leave unspoken.

“Can you b-bring me some?” He pouts. You nod your head ‘yes’, chuckling softly as you look down, “I will but, I don’t think they’ll let me back in if I leave now. Visiting hours are over.” Izuku nods, gulping down those straggler tears.

“I think I might have left it on, so I’ll bring some tomorrow, okay?” He nods again, bringing his right hand to your cheek, thumb gently caressing the delicate skin below your eyes.

“Mr Midoriya, Miss [l/n]. Do you mind if we continue with the general check-up?” You both look at each other before looking back at Dr Kita.

“Of course,” you reply as you move away from Izuku and stand up next to his bed. “Do I have to go now or?”

Dr Kita looks up from his clipboard, “We’ve given you special clearance for tonight. In future, you’ll have to abide by visiting hours.” He’s moved from the foot of the bed to the left side, a distance away from you.

“Visiting hours are from 10am to 8pm. I would advise leaving soon if you’re catching the train back to your apartment. I’m sure you know that it’s not very safe walking around alone at night.” You hum in response.

You look back at Izuku who shakes his head in agreement. He sniffles, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You nod, moving closer and leaning over him, placing a small kiss on his lips. Your first in a month. It’s brief but sweet. Just enough to keep you going until tomorrow.

“Stay strong for me, okay?” You say. Izuku smiles back at you.

You pull back and turn towards Dr Kita, “Thank you for all of your help, doctor. I’ll be back here tomorrow. Should I just ask at reception?”

He hums in response and says, "See you tomorrow, Miss [l/n].” You walk past Dr Kita, turning around once your approaching the doors, locking eyes with your Izu before leaving the recovery room.

The trip home is filled with replays of all that had just happened. When you got back, you found that luckily, you had in fact turned the curry off. You turn it back on, following the recipe in your mind to finish it off. Dinner, packing leftovers, dishes, all go by mindlessly. You’re still stuck in a daze by the time you sit in your plush chair in the corner of your room, pulling at your journal. It’s time to talk about it.

these are the links that I used to write this story:

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/10iiud/amputees_of_reddit_what_was_it_like_to_lose_a/

https://www.quora.com/What-is-it-like-to-lose-a-limb-in-an-accident-and-how-did-you-handle-the-emergency

https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/psychology/cyborg#:~:text=Initially%2C%20a%20cyborg%20was%20described,to%20compensate%20for%20some%20disabilities

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyborg_(DC_Comics)#:~:text=transform%20the%20city.-,Powers%20and%20abilities,speed%2C%20stamina%2C%20and%20flight

https://www.fairviewrehab.com/nursing-care/care-after-amputation/

https://www.cancercouncil.com.au/cancer-information/cancer-treatment/surgery/recovery/hospital-recovery-room/

https://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/definition-amputation

https://my-hero-academia-fanon.fandom.com/wiki/Cybernetic_Arms

https://newsinhealth.nih.gov/2018/08/bionic-movements#:~:text=The%20bionic%20hand%20sends%20signals,hand%20is%20closing%20or%20opening

truth or dare

shigaraki tomura x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — insistent and unwanted touching from dabi, angst, shiggy keeps freezing up, 4.9k words

It was a typical night at the hideout. You can hear the sounds of the city roaring in the distance from your abandoned cabin in the woods. You are sitting on a chewed-out sofa, legs curled beneath you and head resting on Toga’s shoulder. She sits next to you, a thin blanket strewn over your lap.

On the couch adjacent, Shigaraki and Spinner are playing video games. You watch them with fascination. Well, you watch Shigaraki with fascination. There was something so interesting about the way he was hunched over, the way his blue wavy hair fell over his face so that only his red eyes were visible. His fingers move the controller, their grip relaxed. You like the way he licked his chapped lips every so often.

You are in a daze as you stare at him, the object of your affection, your thoughts. He was the man that you had secretly been in love with ever since you joined the league. Not like you could ever tell him anyway, oh but how you longed to. You remain oblivious to the world around you, solely focusing on him.

You don’t even realise that Dabi has plopped down next to you until Toga shifts back and your head slips down her chest. Blinking away your stupor, you lift yourself up and off her, looking into her golden eyes. She smiles at you as you lean back, your body coming far too close to Dabi’s than you are comfortable with. You turn around quickly to look at him. He gives you a lazy smile before chuckling low, seeing how his closeness freaks you out.

“What’s wrong, doll? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He coos. You laugh nervously, shifting back from him and towards Toga. You don’t dare to tear your gaze away from his. Those icy eyes burning into yours.

He clears his throat and continues, “That’s not very convincing, dear.” He leans over to you, making you fall into Toga. She yelps from behind you but it’s too late, Dabi’s body ghosts yours, the blanket doing nothing to keep him off you. His face is close to yours and you can smell the convenience store ramen you all had for dinner on his breath.

“D-Dabi!” You stutter. Your hands are pressed into the cushions of the couch, head reared back so that you still meet his gaze.

He laughs, “What is it, dollface? Don’t want anyone to catch us?” You move one of your hands to grip Toga’s calf, squeezing it in a silent plea for her to save you from Dabi’s unwanted attention. She gets the message and you watch as she shoves Dabi’s shoulder backwards. The strength of her push is minimal, but he shifts back, those eyes still piercing into you.

She pouts and says, “Dabi, don’t be such a meanie. [Y/n]-chan doesn’t want you right now. She obviously wants me.” Toga wraps her arms around you, hands gripping opposite shoulders. You let out an anxious chuckle, your throat suddenly dry. You break out of her hold and get off the couch, rounding to stare at them, your hands on your hips.

“Come on, guys. It’s not funny!” You say. Your brows are knit together, teeth grinding as you watch them laugh at you.

Dabi chuckles, “It’s pretty funny, darling.” Toga slaps his arm lightly as she giggles. The wrinkles only deepen on your forehead as they continue to laugh and make fun of you for how sensitive you are. You can’t help it! You know that Shigaraki could care less about what’s going on between all of you if anything was going on at all. But you wanted to make sure that if he was suddenly paying attention, you would seem as single as possible, ripe for the taking. You huff in frustration as your fellow villains collect themselves.

A warm hand grasps your shoulder and you look up to see Sako, still in his villain costume as always. He looks down at you all from beneath his mask and sighs, “What are you up to now? Giving [y/n] trouble again, huh?” Toga giggles as she shakes her head vigorously to the side. Dabi seems unfazed, stretching himself out on the couch, that lazy smile on his mismatched lips one more.

“They were,” you say, pouting as you look up at Sako. He gives you a reassuring smile before scolding Dabi and Toga playfully. You all end up back on the couch, laughing and arguing and then laughing again as the night passes.

It’s getting pretty late now, but you’re not tired yet. Your gaze wanders over to Shigaraki more often than you’d like to admit, seeing him still focused on playing his game.

You’re on the verge of spacing out again, your mind getting carried away by all of these thoughts of him, when Toga squeals, “Why don’t we play a game?” She squeezes your arm and shakes you in her sudden excitement. “Oh oh! Let’s play truth or dare.”

She smiles wide, staring at all of you. Dabi laughs derisively as he says, “Yea, that game is for losers.”

Toga pokes her tongue out at him, retorting, “You’re scared of what happened last time we p—”

“Okay, shut up!” He says harshly, giving the bubbly girl before him a dangerous look.

You chuckle, remembering how the last time you all played truth or dare, Dabi got dared to wear an ‘#1 Endeavor Fan’ cap into a gas station and lost his shit, almost setting the entire place alight, when the man behind the desk commented on it. It had been diabolically hilarious at the time, and you were about to erupt into a fit of laughter thinking about how much Dabi seemed to despise Endeavor. Part of you is curious whether Dabi really hates all pro heroes that much or if it’s just an Endeavor thing, as it seems to be an Endeavor-only thing.

Sako pats Dabi’s knee, earning him a glare from the younger man. He says, “Well, you kids have fun. I’m going to bed now.” He stands up and bows to you before leaving the room. You watch him leave and with a smile, you turn back to Dabi and Toga who are bickering over playing truth or dare.

You say, “Let’s ask Spinner and Shiggy if they wanna play.” Toga nods furiously while Dabi glares at both of you with narrow eyes. You smile at them and get off the couch, heading over to where Spinner and Shigaraki are sitting. You stand next to Spinner, eyeing him and then Shigaraki nervously. They don’t seem to notice your presence until Spinner huffs and throws down his controller.

“Every time,” he sighs. You are beginning to think that maybe now isn’t the best time and begin to back away slowly when Spinner notices you.

“Oh, [y/n]. What is it?” He asks.

You smile at him and say, “Uh well, Toga and I wanna play truth or dare, and so we were wondering if you two wanted to play as well.” You’re fiddling with your hands behind your back as you watch Spinner turn and nudge Shigaraki. The blue-haired man seems confused like he’s been snapped out of a daze with the movement.

“What?” He says, his voice flat and uninterested.

Spinner elbows him and points to you, saying, “[Y/n] asked if you wanted to play truth or dare.” Shigaraki sighs, finally tearing his gaze from the TV. He lowers his controller to his lap as he looks at you. His gaze is bored yet it has you internally screaming. You feel like he knows. Like he can see how nervous he makes you and ultimately, knows that you have a fatal crush on him. Was he just being nice by not saying anything? You think. You can feel your face heating up, cheeks reddening, as his eyes linger on you. And then he looks away.

“No,” he murmurs. He raises his controller and resumes the game, once again ignorant of your presence.

Spinner sighs and says, “I’ll play.”

You giggle, “Yay!” Toga claps from her spot on the other mangled couch seeing Spinner coming over with you.

In the end, you, Toga, Spinner, and Dabi end up playing truth or dare. Shigaraki was still going at his video game across the living room as you all sat on the floor in a circle, staring at each other with cautious eyes. You had been playing for a few rounds now and nothing too crazy had happened so far. At the moment, it was Toga’s go.

“Dabi,” she says, locking eyes with him. “Truth or dare?” He stares at her, clearly still hesitant to pick ‘dare’ since it was Toga who gave him the Endeavor-cap dare last time. After 30 seconds or so, she whines, “Come on, Dabiiii. Just pick one.”

Dabi grumbles “truth” which makes you all laugh.

Once all of you calm down, Toga asks, “Out of everyone in the room, who would survive a zombie apocalypse?” Dabi sighs and pinches his nose bridge. Toga giggles as you wait for his response.

At last, he sighs, “Not you, vampire. Probably Jin—”

“Jin’s not in the room, silly!” She squeals.

Dabi groans, “Still not you.” He looks around the room, seeming to assess each one of you including your boss in the back for your zombie apocalypse survival skills. He finally says, “You Spinner because you look like one.”

“Ha ha very funny,” Spinner drawls.

You shake your head and say, “He doesn’t even, Dabi. Stop being a dick.”

“When am I not?” He chuckles, the sound sudden and short. You roll your eyes at him and lean back, your back hurting from slouching over your knees.

Toga chimes in, “Okay, okay, your turn Dabi!” You look back at him, seeing him grinning at you like he was up to no good.

He says, “[Y/n]. Truth or dare?” You can hear the challenge in his voice, daring you to be bold and to pick the latter. You usually picked ‘truth’ (boring👎) but this time, you were feeling a little adventurous.

You say with a smirk, “Dare.” The look Dabi gives you tells you that you have made the wrong decision.

He grins wide as he says, “I dare you to kiss one person in this room.” Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as you stare at him. The room has gone silent. You can’t even hear the clicking of Shigaraki’s controller. Your mind is whirring with a million thoughts. You berate yourself for being so dumb and falling into his trap. ‘Trap’ because obviously, you’re supposed to kiss him. You and Spinner were just friends, Shigaraki wasn’t playing, and Toga… Well…

“Toga,” you say frantically as you look at her. She shakes her head. “But—”

“Sorry, [y/n]. My kisses are reserved right now,” she says pouting.

“For who?!” Your eyes are wild and the pitch of your voice is high. You stare at her in complete and utter confusion as she giggles.

“It’s a secret,” she says coyly. She leans over to you from across the circle, her hand cupping your ear as she whispers into it, “Do you think I can still see Izu-chan tonight?” You scowl and pull back, glaring at her. The fact that Izuku had won her affections just by being cute and bloodied up, and you hadn’t— It didn’t mean much to you usually as that wasn’t how you felt about Toga. But right now, when you needed her ambiguous sexuality the most and you couldn’t take advantage of it!

“Fine,” you huff as you sit back. You catch sight of Dabi’s smirk and you just know that things weren’t going to work out well.

“Looks like you’re all out of options, doll face,” Dabi coos. His grin widens, grinding your gears.

You pout as you say, “I’m not gonna kiss you, Dabi.”

He groans, “Don’t be such a brat, [y/n]. It’s just a dare.”

Unfortunately, you two are seated next to each other and without warning, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you towards him. You let out a squeal, feeling like the fun and games have gone too far. Maybe that’s how it felt for Dabi last time, you think.

“Dabi!” You shriek. Your hands are on his chest, trying to push him away from you. But you’re easily overpowered by his strength, and soon, you’re nestled in his lap. You look down at him with big, frightened eyes and pouty lips. You liked Dabi, sure. He was your… friend? Your fellow league member. But you had no romantic or sexual interest in him, and the last thing you wanted to do while your crush was in the room was kiss another man.

His hand is at the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his. You clamp your eyes shut and lips into a hard line, hoping that it will all stop. You feel his nose brush against yours and you let out a small whine. You’re trying to mentally prepare yourself for what’s about to happen when—

“Dabi,” Shigaraki says, his tone cold. Not flat. Cold. The same cold it always was when he became annoyed. You open one eyelid and then the other, seeing your crush standing behind Toga, looking down at you two. You take this opportunity to get away from Dabi. He grunts as you scamper off him and run and hide Shigaraki. Your hands grip his arm as your body ghosts his. You can feel how his muscles tense beneath your touch.

You peek out from behind Shigaraki, seeing how he stares Dabi down. You gulp nervously, unsure of what to do or say.

Shigaraki says between tight teeth, “She doesn’t want to kiss you.” You watch as Dabi scoffs and rolls his eyes.

He retorts, “Yea well, you’re not much better, freak.” You can see just how hard Shigaraki is clutching his jaw, the veins popping out from beneath his dry skin.

It’s only a few moments before he turns around to look at you. Your hands fall from his arm as he moves. Those red eyes stare down at you. Within them, you can see his internal conflict. You can tell that right now he’s overthinking, wondering whether you want to kiss him, whether you’re repulsed by the monster he believes he is, whether you want to run away from him or cry or scream.

You shake your head and say his name quietly. The sound of it leaving your lips draws his eyes down to your mouth. His tongue darts out across his dry lips and you wonder whether he’s kissed anyone before. 

You shift closer to him, testing the waters. He’s frozen, unable to move. His mind can’t form a coherent thought with you so close to him. You begin to think that this was a mistake, slowly shifting back to put some space between you when you gasp.

Shigaraki’s hand grips your bicep, holding it firmly. His mouth is open slightly and he looks like he’s going to say something, but no words come out. You nod, urging him to go on, but he can’t. He physically just can’t. He feels like he’s going to ruin everything right now. He keeps thinking that he’ll slip up and suddenly, you’ll be gone. Nothing more than ashes floating and falling in the breeze. The room is suddenly stifling and he can barely breathe.

You bite the side of your lower lip subconsciously as you gaze into his eyes. You can’t take the silence anymore. You can’t handle not knowing how he feels or what he wants, especially at this moment.

You whisper, “Shiggy. If you’re going to kiss me then just kiss me, please.”

You fail to realise that Toga is leaning over to you two from her spot on the floor, craning her neck up so that she can hear what you’re saying. But your voice is so quiet, she can’t catch it. She looks back at Dabi and Spinner and shakes her head, pouting and shrugging.

Shigaraki clears his throat, gently pulling you by the arm closer to him. You’re obedient, your body shifting to press against his. The hardness of him beneath his thin, black shirt shocks you. Your [e/c] eyes are huge and round as they stare up into Shigaraki’s. Your breathing is hitched, the reality of this all dawning on you. You are really about to kiss him! The man you’ve been obsessing over since day one. Who you’ve been trying to get close to all this time. He’s drawing you in, holding you in his hands, slowly leaning down. Your faces are getting nearer and nearer.

Your noses brush and you close your eyes, feeling his hair tickling your forehead. You can feel his chapped lips brush yours. A feeling that you’ve imagined far too many times. One that feels much better in real life than it did in your dreams. As his lips finally press against yours, you sigh.

The kiss is slow and soft, either party unsure of how things should proceed. Locked between your lips were far too many emotions left unsaid. Your hands tightened into fists, grabbing onto his long sleeve while his hands remained on your arms.

You pulled him further down, pressing your lips harder into his. Shigaraki’s eyes open wide and they stare down at you in shock. He freezes up, wishing that he could just decay himself in this moment. He was embarrassing himself beyond repair right now with how stiff he was.

Feeling him tense up, you pull away. Your eyes flutter open and you see his bulging out of their sockets; the redness at the top of his ears and pink dusting of his sallow cheeks is noticed. You gulp nervously, screaming at yourself in your mind for going too far. And now you’ve made things awkward. You want to burst into tears seeing how uncomfortable he is right now.

A whine escapes your throat as you step back, Shigaraki letting you go with ease. You look down at the rest of the league on the floor, their eyes curious (Dabi’s narrow) at what has just occurred in the living room. You look back up at Shigaraki, his hand outstretched mid-air towards you. His mouth is slightly open once more as he stares at you.

You run off, racing up the stairs to your bedroom. Your footsteps thud down the hall, and you don’t care if you wake anyone up (probably Jin, as he’s such a light sleeper). Once you make it to your bedroom, you swing the door open and then slam it shut. You plonk face-first down onto your bed and start to sob uncontrollably. The sadness wrecks through your body, leaving you gasping and trembling into your thin, blood-stained quilt.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki stands there, unmoving, as he processes what just happened. Toga gets up and stands next to him. She leans over and waves her hand in front of her face, saying, “Shigaraki-kun, are you okay?”

Shigaraki still stands there, replaying the memory of you running out. The look on your face, the glassiness of your doe eyes. It hurts him in a way that he hasn’t been hurt in a very long time.

At some point, things began to feel numb, the hatred and rage blending. But since you had come into his life, you had made him feel all of these foreign emotions. You had brought light into his life with your sweet laugh and teasing. You had come to mean so much more to him than he ever thought you would. And watching you stumble out, away from him, running from him. That was a pain unlike any other. To know that he had made you feel uncomfortable, unwanted, rejected even, was so much worse than any kind of repulsion you could have felt for him.

With all eyes on him, he walked out of the room and up the stairs. His pace was even but his heart and mind were racing. He could hear the sick slosh of his blood gushing in his ears once he stopped at your door. The sounds of your sobs clear over his panic. He knocked on the door, the skin taut, almost splitting across his knuckles.

You pushed yourself up, hearing the knock on the door. You felt so defeated that you couldn’t even sit up, let alone open the door for whoever it was. It's not like you wanted to see anyone anyway. All you wanted right now was to wallow in your pain and sadness, in the grief that the man you had come to… love… didn’t feel the same about you. How could he? You had felt the way he froze up. There was no way that he liked you. Not even a little bit. If he did, he wouldn’t have reacted like that, right?

You heard someone rap on the door again. This time, the sound was louder. You sniffled and sighed into your quilt, groaning out, “Come in.” The words were muffled by your blankets but the door pushed open and heavy footsteps shuffled against the wooden floorboards.

You whimpered, “Dabi, I-I swear if that’s you, I’m going to break your fu—”

“[Y/n].”

You push yourself up and sit back. Turning your head to the side, you see those red eyes trained on you. You let out a whine before burying yourself back into your blankets, crying even harder into them.

What did he want? You think. To see how much he hurt you? To tease you for being ‘too sensitive’? For fuck’s sake, of course, you were sensitive. This was the man you had been ogling every chance you got since you met. The man whose words you would write down in your journal to savour the memory of him talking (bonus points if it was to you).

“[Y/n],” he repeats. You can feel the edge of your bed dip with his weight. You (somehow) cry even harder into your bed, your body shaking like a dog that had been left out on a freezing, winter night. You felt like a dog that had been left out on a winter night, too. Your love was unrequited. You felt abandoned. Your legs are curled up, your body in a foetus position as you air out your sorrows.

You gasp and choke on your sobs as you feel a hand squeeze your ankle.

Shigaraki’s hand.

His grip is loose, touch warm. You’re gasping and sniffling and coughing as you feel his fingers trail across the delicate skin, dipping to your Achilles tendon and then back over the bone of your ankle, drawing small circles on your flesh. The movement was slow and soothing. It helps you quiet down so that now, you’re only sniffling and hiccuping every couple of minutes. Your hands clench your quilt in tiny fists as you focus on breathing.

Shigaraki says softly, “I’m sorry.” You gasp as you strain to hear his next words that are barely audible. “For ruining everything.” You start hiccuping, the sobs picking back up at his words. You begin to cry again, feeling even more sad and confused. What did he mean by ‘ruin everything’? You think. Did he mean your relationship as league members? With him as your boss? You didn’t understand. These feelings of helplessness made you cry even more intensely.

The guilt and anguish Shigaraki was feeling only swelled seeing how much he was upsetting you. He was internally shouting at himself, telling himself to leave you alone because he was only making it worse. But for some reason, he wanted to lay down beside you and hold you, cuddle with you until you told him everything that was on your mind.

He wanted to listen to you yap away. He wanted you to scream at him and be angry with him, to tell him how awful of being he was, how much you hated him, how much he disgusted you. The last thing he wanted was to see you like this. Your beautiful soul crushed as you cried and cried.

His hand left your ankle and came to stroke your hair as he leaned over your trembling frame. You looked up through teary eyes to see him staring down at you, the look in his eyes a mixture of sadness and anger and something else… hatred. Not for you but for himself and how badly he hurt you.

You turn and lie on your back. Still sniffling, you look up at Shigaraki with those big, teary eyes. You choke on your breath. His hand gently cups your cheek, thumb brushing over the wetness of your tears.

Shigaraki sighs, “I’m just making it worse.” You shake your head, hiccuping. Your fingers wrap around his wrist. You can feel the beat of his pulse, the heat of his touch.

You sniffle as you say, “Sh-Shiggy, I-I don’t under-understand.” You choke on your sobs, unable to continue.

What he does next shocks you. Shigaraki leans over your body and props himself up on his elbows as his hands cup your cheeks. His face is close to yours. You hiccup, your lips trembling as you press them together. He leans down and kisses your forehead with shy lips, your nose brushing against his jaw.

The feeling of his dry lips, their cracked surface, on your sweaty skin has you hyperventilating through your sniffles. He pulls back but instead of giving you space to breathe, he presses his forehead to yours. His fingers tangle in your locks as they push your messy hair back from your angelic face. Even now, with cheeks and eyes puffy, nose red and snotty, you are still the most beautiful woman Shigaraki has ever seen.

You are the only woman he has ever desired.

You shut your eyes, allowing stray tears to fall as you bask in the feeling of Shigaraki so close to you. You wish that your nose wasn’t so blocked so that you could smell his musk. You wish that you would stop hiccuping and choking out sobs because you feel like you’re being too loud and ruining the moment.

But Shigaraki doesn’t think that at all. He wants to hear it. He wants to see your pain. And he doesn’t ever want to forget it. He wants to add it to the vault of hatred and anger locked within him. Fuel for the fire forever blazing in his mind and body.

“Sh-Shiggy,” you mumble, your voice thick with sorrow. He hums in response, his eyes opening slowly and gazing into yours. You realise that it’s now or never. And so you resolve to say it. You resolve to tell him how you feel.

“Sh-Shiggy. I’m-I’m sorry.” He shushes you but you press on. “Sh-Shiggy,” you whine. You pause and take a deep breath. Exhaling, you admit, “I love you.”

You tilt your head back, nose brushing his as you get a good look at his blood-red eyes. They’re wide with shock as they stare down at you. If things weren’t ruined before, then they were ruined now.

You two are quiet for the next few minutes. You’re determined to hear what Shigaraki has to say on the matter. And Shigaraki doesn’t have a clue how to respond. He feels like he’s malfunctioning, short-circuiting at hearing those words slip from your swollen lips. He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out.

You’re so close to bursting into tears again when he finally mutters, “Don’t-don’t be sorry, dummy. Just-I.” You whimper hearing that. His eyes widen again and he stumbles over his words, “Don’t cry-I just-look it’s n-not-I—”

“Sh-Shiggy, please,” you whine. “Please just-just.” You can feel the tears coming on.

Shigaraki smashes his lips onto yours, kissing you roughly and messily. His teeth gnash yours far too many times as you cry into the kiss, your hands clutching his blue locks at the roots. Your body is shaking but it doesn’t matter because he holds you.

He holds you, he steadies you, he takes your breath and your sorrow away with his lips.

Once he pulls away, your hands wrap around his neck and you nuzzle your face into him. He flips you over so that you’re lying at his side, your body instinctively curled into his. You continue to sob into the crook of his neck. His hands rub your back and your arm as he mutters to you how sorry he is for making you feel like this.

He mumbles into the top of your head, “You have every right to be angry with me. Hate me. Take it out on me.” You shake your head vigorously, earning a grumble from him. With all of your remaining strength, you push yourself up. Your nose ghosts his as you look into his eyes.

“I l-love you, Shiggy.” You lean in closer, saying on his lips, “I love you.” You gently kiss him, moaning into the feeling of it.

You know that he wouldn’t be doing this for just anyone. And the thought that maybe he felt something for you other than loathing kept you hooked on his lips and the feeling of his body pressed against yours.