Love Love Love
love love love
— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍
summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.
You never did go pro.
Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development.
The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:
What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?
How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun?
You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago.
Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide.
You see it differently.
Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest.
You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent.
You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence.
Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.
What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time?
Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown.
He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care.
He isn't a villain-in-training.
None of them are.
It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children.
So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents.
You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet.
After all, you never did go pro.
And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.
He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it.
It was the beginning of the end, then.
His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class?
Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.
It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes.
Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:
Endeavor's wing.
There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now.
Very different.
Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."
"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"
"Oh, ho, no way!"
Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again.
"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"
"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."
It is you.
You look... good.
Happy.
You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time.
For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.
It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto.
"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"
Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.
Shoto is on the move.
The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.
Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero.
Shoto Todoroki.
He looks... good.
Really good.
He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.
For a second, you're seventeen again.
It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.
They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.
There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.
"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever."
You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk.
Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher.
"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"
"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember.
"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"
"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.
Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing.
"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"
There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle.
You're using him as a teaching moment.
Shoto's smile is soft.
You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."
"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"
Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute.
You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all.
He hangs back.
He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto.
...It's kinda cute.
Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was.
Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds.
And he deserves to be happy.
Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.
You hang back.
Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.
"Hey."
"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."
"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."
His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."
You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.
Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."
"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."
"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are... good."
Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose.
And the underdog in question can read a room.
This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.
"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"
You jump.
How long has he even been there?
"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.
"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"
"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."
Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.
"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"
"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."
Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."
"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."
There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions.
It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment.
"Would you like to—"
"Are you free—"
Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.
"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"
You make yourself available.
Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.
Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell.
From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.
"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?"
"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy."
"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.
"Father was the one who suggested it."
"...That old dog."
Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"
The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.
Shoto winces.
"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.
"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."
Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.
"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.
Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya.
"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."
"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"
"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"
"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."
"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?"
"She wants me to call her after—"
"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"
Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.
"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."
Shoto lets out a long breath.
Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"
"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"
It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."
Easier said than done.
You never did go pro.
Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates.
You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.
He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful.
Fuyumi's contribution.
You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.
The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back.
It feels like you've been lit on fire.
You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine.
Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables.
The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.
You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you.
For a second, you're seventeen again.
Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A.
You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks.
A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass.
He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy.
"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."
Graduation day was the last time you saw him.
Until this morning, that is.
You smile into your drink.
"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.
His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.
"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."
Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."
He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."
The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."
You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.
He notices.
Shoto's face feels hot.
He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school.
Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.
Now, less so.
It's adorable.
Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home.
While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it.
Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.
His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you.
His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss.
But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen.
The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you.
It's sweet.
Really sweet.
The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit.
"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.
His hand settles there.
Your stomach does a flip.
You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure.
Keep it together.
He isn't seventeen.
He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years.
...Right?
Green light.
His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment.
The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park.
It makes your chest ache.
Shoto swallows thickly.
Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.
He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.
What if you don't want to kiss him?
When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?
Why does he feel like he's going to die?
"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly.
"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."
You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."
"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."
"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"
Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."
"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"
"I'm not being weird—"
"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.
"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."
His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest.
It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?
Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now.
"You don't need to be."
Shoto's breath catches at that.
So, he makes his move.
His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment.
Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.
Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone.
He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful.
The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.
Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together.
Then, his eyes stick to your lips.
"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face.
You never did go pro.
But, Shoto did.
It shows.
Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—
His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory.
It's better than anything he could have ever imagined.
And then you whimper.
It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching.
You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.
He needs to slow down.
He is not having sex with you in his father's car.
That's shameless.
He needs to slow down.
He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up.
Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him.
You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.
It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that?
He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect.
"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."
A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person.
"Are you serious?"
"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.
"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"
Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face.
"Are you free this weekend?"
"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."
"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"
"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."
Shoto scoffs.
Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:
"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."
Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.
Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend.
Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki.
More Posts from Ninrixs and Others
Having the Number One pro hero as your boyfriend is not easy.
Especially when you're a pro hero yourself.
And especially when your relationship is supposed to be a secret.
And even more especially when your boyfriend needs to be around you every second of every day like his life depends on it.
Izuku's a sweet man, he always has been and always will be. But sweet isn't even close to the word someone could use to describe how he treated you. In fact, even infatuated wouldn't be sufficient.
But Izuku's love has a price. He knows you can damn well defend yourself (trust me, he probably knows best after you almost stabbed him by accident when he came home in the middle of the night with no warning)—but still, he worries.
Which is why, much to his chagrin more than your own, you kept your relationship hidden from the public.
But like I said, Izuku's love for you is a force stronger than One for All itself.
So you can imagine this 'secret relationship' thing didn't really work out..
It was after a mission, a big operation in the city - the heroes had won but barely.
You were all exhausted.
And your boyfriend Pro Hero Deku more than most.
You were talking with a reporter, trying to reassure the civilians that everything was now resolved, when Izuku stumbles over and just starts peppering your face with kisses tiredly, the battle taking so much out of him that he forgets where he is.
he just wants his baby :(
All you can really do is stand there and take it, face bright red as a stunned cameraman and civilians start snapping photos and taking videos of the affectionate pro hero.
...Good thing you can defend yourself.
A/N: Deku's not one of my favs heh but he's such a sweetheart we need more loverboys in the world 😔
gimme, gimme, gimme a man
calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae
notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that
༄ isagi: “... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”
✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.
⁀➷ “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”
༄ nagi:
“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”
✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.
⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.
༄ rin:
“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”
✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that. ⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.
༄ sae:
“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”
✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.
⁀➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.
Swapping Secrets and Spit (*NSFW*)
Pairing: D.M x Gryffindor! Reader Summary: You and Draco were notorious for meeting up for only moments to exchange information. You helped to let him know what Harry was up to, and he let you know exactly how to get an Outstanding on your potions exam. But would your feelings end up pushing him away or starting something exciting? W/C: 2.9k Tags: Sexual Content / cock teasing / oral stimulation (f/m) / face fucking A/N: NSFWWW. Lmao this got out of hand so fast LMAO [masterlist] Much Love, Saige
You exited transfigurations class and straight into the chaos of the hallways. Students coming from every corner attempting to make their way to their next class. Now usually was the perfect time for you and Draco to spot each other in the crowd and find a place to speak briefly. The roaring conversation of the students and the clamoring of their feet distracted most people from noticing the Slytherin Prince talking with a no-name Gryffindor.
You didn’t dislike Harry, that wasn't why you were feeding information to Draco at all. To be honest you were fascinated by him, and had a close schedule with the bunch to be able to inconspicuously listen and hear what they were up to. It wasn’t until your third year when Draco ultimately started teasing you about your involvement with them when you stood up for yourself. He found it surprising, and more interesting that you were bold enough to separate yourself from the Gryffindor heart throb.
Again.. You didn’t hate Harry Potter. But the interactions with Draco made you feel something, and if it meant just relaying information that was harmless to be in a room alone with him, you’d do it.
Some would call it a dumb hopeless crush, but you didn’t see anything wrong with it. It wasn’t something you told your friends about or Draco would let his goons know about. It was your own little secret. And you loved it.
You looked around casually as you descended the stairs to the main hallway. You waited to notice the blonde boy in green robes before you walked towards a broom closet just out of sight from the passing students. Waiting in the dark, you sat fiddling with your book bag trying not to look awkward.
It took a few minutes but Draco cracked the door open, and snuck his body in, his chest heaving. You look at him, eyes wide, unsure why he was worked up.
“Crabbe is actually going to be the death of me. The way he trips over his own feet is embarrassing.” He huffed, running his hand through his tousled hair. You waited for him to say more, but he just sat next to you attempting to catch his breath.
You cleared your throat, ready to jump into what you had heard lately. Umbridge had implemented new rules across the school, and it was harder and harder for you and Draco to meet. Even though Draco was a part of the Inquisitorial Squad, he typically saw the rules didn’t apply to him.
“They’ve started a club.” You whispered. Draco's eyebrows furrowed-
“A club? What, his three friends weren’t enough to soak up his emotional negligence as a child?” Draco snorted.
You just rolled your eyes. He didn’t understand but you didn’t understand the implications of the club either.
”No its like. A fighting club? A dueling club? I heard the sign up sheet had a curse on it, if you spoke about the club you’d get boils all over your face.” You added. His eyebrows relaxed as he took in your information.
“A dueling club? There’s not a place in the castle where they could do that secretly.” Draco chuffed. He believed you, but a part of him didn’t believe that they’d be able to get away with something under Umbridge's rule.
“That’s all I know.” You shrugged your shoulders. Draco sighed, but nodded his head satisfied with what you gave him. You couldn’t help but notice the new badge placed on his robes. You were about to compliment it before he pulled out his potions book, breaking you from your daze.
”Snape let us know that the O.W.L’s will have a practical and written examination but only of specific potions. You only need to know how to prepare and successfully write down the Draught of Peace, Strengthening solution, the invigor-“ Draco’s instructions were cut short, stopping to listen to the noise outside the door. He outstretched his hand to stop your writing, your hands vigorously attempting to write down everything he was saying. You paused with him leaning your body closer to the door. From down the hall, the voices of Blaise and Crabbe echoed. While he focused on the sounds in the hall, all you could think about was his hand resting softly on yours.
“Oy! Draco!” Crabbe started.
“Emergency meeting in 10!” Blaise finished.
Draco sighed looking at you almost apologetically, but his body language stayed firm. He took his hand back, letting it guide off your knuckles softly before collecting his things. He closed the textbook and shoved it in his bag.
“Meet me later in the library after curfew. Take the left stairway near the gargoyle statue and keep right. I'll wait for you.” Draco mumbled leaving you in the broom closet surrounded by silence. He came and went faster than you anticipated but that typically was how your meetings were arranged. Though this time was different, you were never invited to meet him again, nonetheless after curfew.
You tried your best not to imagine anything romantic, your mind wandering to a private meeting late at night with the boy. Part of you hated how you fell for him like the rest of the school girls. He was a brat, no good, but charming, beautiful, and suave. His demeanor in your little meetings felt different than when you saw him with his friends. He didn’t treat you the same, actually he didn’t really act like you existed outside of your meetings. But something festers within you, dumb hope perhaps.
You waited in your dorm, watching the clock on the wall tick meticulously. The other girls in your room were already fast asleep, all exhausted by the application of O.W.L’s and the combination of Umbridge's unfair laws. You took another look around before slowly unwrapping yourself from your bed, tiptoeing out of the room. It was just past 11:45, not too late into the night. You wrapped yourself in your sweatshirt and walked out the common room in just your socks. You thought the soft pads of your feet were a quieter way to get down the stone hallways.
Like Draco insisted, you walked around the castle finding the gargoyle and the left stairwell. You hadn’t heard or bumped into a single professor or heaven forbid Filch and his damn cat. The stairwell forked and you kept left. Your heart raced as you got closer to the library. He said he’d meet you but you didn’t know where. It wasn't until you turned the stairs again when your arm was tugged back and handed over your mouth.
Eyes wide, a voice whispered into your ear.
“Shh, It’s just me. Follow and don't make a noise. Okay?” Draco's voice was just barely audible. You nodded, his hand slowly moving away from your mouth. He walked ahead of you in silence to the top of the stairwell. You held your own hand against your cheeks, feeling the rush of blood turn you a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but watch him as he walked in front of you, his green plaid bottoms and black short sleeve shirt suited him well. It was as if he was wearing a separate Slytherin uniform, kept clean and pressed. His hair was damp, noting that he took night showers. You wished you could turn off your brain, he was just using you for information. That was it.
You got to an empty hallway, Draco opening a broom closet just near the library, ushering you in. You got inside, surprised by how much smaller it was to the one you typically shared downstairs. You waited for a moment as he joined you, lifting his arm up to pull a string, dull yellow light now cascading over you both.
You both stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Both of you weren’t exactly sure that the other would show up, the meeting feeling almost forbidden.
Draco cleared his throat. Unable to find his voice. He was incredibly close to you, your eyes looking up to him through your lashes. After a moment he looked up and around, trying not to stare. You stood there, breathing in his cologne, unable to think about anything else. You didn’t know whether to start speaking or wait to be spoken to. The silence was deafening.
“I just wanted to, let you know more about the potions exam.” Draco finally spoke, his voice raspy and slightly shaken. His hands were firmly to his sides, the sinking feeling of how close you two really were. He thought about asking if you wanted to find another closet, but he liked how you looked, looking up at him through your lashes. Blood rushed throughout his body, the room now getting warmer with both of you occupying such little space.
“That would be nice.” You spoke softly. All you could do was smile, adjusting your shirt slightly. You tried to look down to adjust your clothes further, out of anxiety mostly, but your forehead hit his chest, bumping into him. Your hand flung up to your mouth astonished and embarrassed. He just laughed, his arm moving and holding you up.
“I’m terribly sorry.” You whispered, trying to stand back as far as you can, though it didn’t make much of a difference. He now stood, his back to the door, his hands still on your shoulder. Both of you looked into each other's eyes for another second before the grip on your body pulled you every so slightly back into him. Draco leaned down, meeting you just before your lips met, hesitating before softly planting a kiss.
His hands slid up your shoulders, holding your neck as he kissed you again now, deeper. Your hands at your sides, almost afraid to reach out and touch him. You melted into his hands, your neck leaning to the side to let him get deeper. His hands moved from your neck to your arms, guiding them to his torso.
You smiled into the kiss, your fingers raking up and down his back. Draco started kissing you harder, his tongue flicking around your lips begging for more. You opened wider, both of your tongues meeting each other, moving around each other's mouths in quick succession. You could feel the room heat up, the sounds of your mouths enveloping all of your senses. Draco felt focused, curious about how far you’d let him. He craved your touch, the countless private meetings in broom closets, his mind constantly thinking of what he would do if you were really alone. How you were his pretty little detective, a spy on the inside.
His hand traveled to your knee, pulling it up around his torso as he leaned you back. You moaned into the kiss, taken away slightly by his movements. His hips met yours, the feeling of his growing member beneath his bottoms bumping slightly into your core as he kissed you. You ran your hands through his hair, the feeling of the cold damp strands bringing you some relief.
Draco began to lean his hips further into yours, his movements becoming more rhythmic with every passing movement. You were aching for his touch, the slight friction of your pants and his only partially alleviating your needs. You let your hands travel down his torso, breaking the kiss, palming him lightly. Draco's head dropped to his chest, his eyes fixated on your hands. You bit your lip, impressed by your confidence.
“Fuck darling.” His hands were still cupping your face lightly, holding your head as he enjoyed your touch. Soon your hands slipped under his waistband, tugging them lightly. He smiled, pulling you back into a kiss. His hands removed yours from his waistband and up above your head.
He trailed kisses from your arms to your neck, biting ever so slightly behind your ear. It took everything in him not to leave bruises, but he wanted to keep you his secret more than anything. His hands let go of yours, your arms now resting on your head. He lifted your shirt, kissing down your torso towards your waistline. He licked seductively at your navel, his hands slowly inching your pants down, your underwear still on.
Your breath hitched, the feeling of his hands rubbing down your legs, kissing and sucking your skin. He urged your foot to rest on his shoulder, his smile as he maneuvered himself closer in between your legs. You closed your eyes, your arm covering any light from coming through. He kissed your clit through the material, his thumb rubbing against the wet spot forming just below. He just smirked, rubbing soft circles watching your body react to his touch. He kept removing his hands, waiting for you to moan in protest, loving how you begged for him to continue. He did it one more time, waiting to hear your voice.
“Draco please.” You whispered, your knees shaking slightly in anticipation. He could feel his core seize hearing your voice say his name. So breathless, so low. His fingers moved your underwear to the side, his tongue immediately shoved down your cunt. The savory taste made Draco go crazy, his head bobbed slowly, using his hands to care for your clit as he focused on your hole.
He felt monstrous. He could be down there forever, enjoying every last drop of you. The way your leg pushed against his shoulder, the way you arched your back against the wall, clawing your hands in his hair. He was in heaven, and he wanted to make you feel good.
He moved his fingers off your clit, replacing it with his mouth, lapping and sucking lightly. His fingers teasing your hole, entering only slightly watching you get closer to your climax. Your body twitching, your knees slowly getting closer to the sides of his head. He let you move your legs, hips buckling as he sped up, the rush of euphoria overcoming you.
Draco stayed under you, watching you catch your breath. Your breasts now exposed, your hands pulling at your shirt in any attempt to release tension. Draco's hands moved to your hips, pulling himself up lightly. He moved your hands from your blushing face, kissing you deeply. The rush of your climax brought you back to reality, you two were in the broom closet on the top floor, making out … and doing much more. You couldn't believe it.
Your hands traveled back to his waistband, this time more demanding. You turned away from the kiss, moving to his jawline and around his neck. You continued to palm him through his pants, the feeling of his cock much larger than before. Your hands rubbed methodically through the paternal until you couldn’t take it anymore.
Lowering to your knees, you shimmied his pants down, your mouth filling with saliva as the seconds passed. You slightly scratched down his hips as you took off his underwear, the feeling making Draco’s head snap back in pleasure. His cock fully erect in front of you, almost intimidating in size. You took a deep breath placing your hands close to the shaft, kissing lightly at his tip.
You swirled your tongue around, savoring the salty precum before you took as much as you could in your mouth. Using your hands, you slowly started moving your head in motion, the sounds of Draco whimpering only making you go deeper.
His hands ran through your hand, grabbing all of it in his hand forcing you to take him deeper. You gagged, the vibrations making Draco’s hips twitch. The combination of his hands and his hips simultaneously forcing his cock down your throat with every thrust. The saliva was now dripping down your chin, all over your hands. You reached up to his hands on your head, urging him to push you further.
”Are you sure?” He asked, his voice breathless. You just nodded, your head still bobbing with his assistance. He soon used his hands to hold you in place, his hips pushing his cock into your mouth, face fucking you. The feeling was out of this world, you focused your cheeks and breath in between his movements. Your eyes welled with tears but the moment made you rush. Your hands ran down in between your legs, quickly rubbing your clit sloppily as Draco used your mouth.
Draco's moans were suppressed, only the sounds of you gagging making him slip up, moaning your name into the air. He thrusted his hips one last time, his thighs shaking as he shot a warm liquid down your throat. Your jaw sore and tongue chaffed from the event. He leaned back taking his cock out of your mouth allowing you to fully breath in and out, juices spilling over your mouth. You stayed on the floor catching your breath. Draco turned noticing paper towels just to his left, wiping his tip before pulling his pants up. Kneeling down to you, he lovingly wiped your face, taking the time to make sure he got everything off. Your face was flustered, eyes closed just enjoying the peace.
Draco stared at you, your face red, the small smile on your face. He was absolutely smitten by you. He hated that he’d credit Potter to you two meeting, but he would never have it any other way.
𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠
request; Hello I was wondering if you could do a Liam Mairi x reader where involving the side-effects of having bonded mated dragons pair so they absolutely go feral with eachother while using the prompt "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."
synopsis; you and liam discover the trouble with mated dragons when you wind up in his bed. hidden feelings threaten to come to light.
pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader
warnings; smut (18+ only), p in v, soft sex w feels
word count; 2.6k
Reaching out blindly until your hand snags against the soft fabric of Liam’s sleep shirt, you take a shuddering breath as a surge of arousal locks you on the spot, every muscle coiling tight when you press your forehead to the wall and tug him closer. His thighs are bare and they flex when he stumbles towards you, bracing himself by means of a hand either side of your head, corded biceps caging you in when a ragged pant rips through you and you grit your teeth.
“Easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, the veins that wrap the lengths of his forearms like vines protruding from the creamy skin. You suppress a pathetic little noise that bubbles from the base of your throat, tipping your head back as Liam’s hand makes contact with the skin there. “Shh, shh.”
“Li-“ you whisper through gritted teeth. “I need you to tell me to go away. I can’t- can’t control myself.”
“No-“ he says, quickly – too quickly, desperation lining his every syllable. You’re all too familiar with the feeling, the panic that seeps into his voice at the prospect of you leaving in search of another man’s bed. He’s not too proud to beg you. “No. Stay, please.”
The thought of you leaving is near unbearable now he’s close enough to touch you — feel you. Close enough to smell the shampoo in the wisps of hair that fall around your flushed face, close enough that the scent of you cloys in his nostrils and throws all inhibitions out the window.
His body presses against yours and the contact sets every nerve ending you possess alight. You tremble when he glides steady fingers - much steadier than you’re feeling right now - over your half-bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped downward, coming to a halt over your skittering pulse. His head falls forward into the juncture of your neck.
“Fuck.” His voice is rasping, barely there in your ears as Deigh does something Áine particularly likes and a crusade of need slams through him.
You thread your fingers through the blond tresses that tickle at your skin, pointedly ignoring the obvious disparity of your bodies, how his dwarfs your own, the way it makes your head spin with the need to get closer, to claw your way into his skin and feel every inch of him.
“Liam,” you whine softly, arching into him as those thick arms twine around your waist, pulling your torso flush to his own. He squeezes you, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt you’re clad in, palming and groping at every bump and ridge, every hill and valley of flesh he can reach. He ventures lower; your fingers tense where they still lay in his soft hair, and when his palms flatten and tap firmly at the backs of your thighs, you know what he wants.
You oblige the clear instruction, pushing yourself up from the balls of your feet until you’re in Liam’s arms, legs looped around his waist and ankles crossed at the base of his spine. Your back hits the wall as he surges forward to nose at your jugular. His lips part, tongue flicking forward to lave at your balmy skin. As his head dips, trailing a hot, wet path of half moons in the wake of his lips, you shudder.
“I know, my girl. I know,” he coos, sympathetic. His words slur and jumble, each sound melting into the next as though he’s drunk from the feel - the taste - of you alone.
The pet name would be enough to have you melting with affection under usual circumstances— now, it’s enough to have you whining, craning your head to slant your lips hungrily over his own, uncaring if it’s messy or filthy or downright sinful. Your only mission is to feel him, to get closer, to roam every inch of him with your ravenous tongue and teeth and lips— greedy for his touch.
If anyone were to walk in they’d certainly blanch at the sight; you pinned against the wall closest to the door of Liam’s room, his eager fingers splayed over your ass as you breathe into each other’s mouths. You’re unconsciously grinding down into him in quick, fervent bursts, and he reciprocates the movement appreciatively, letting you slide down the cold wall until the thick length of him presses to your wet cunt— hindered only by the fabric of his boxers and the lace of your panties.
The material is almost translucent, soaked through with your arousal. Liam coos something sympathetic that you can’t quite decipher for the fog that clouds your every nerve ending, for the hand that slips between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing tight circles into your swollen clit through the ruined fabric. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes and you tremble round him, the pleasure everything you need and somehow nowhere near enough, all at once.
“Shh, shh,” he murmurs. “‘ve got you, angel. ‘S okay.”
You gasp wetly against his kiss-bitten lips, the only warning you give as you begin shuddering against him, your climax ripping through you before you even have time to think. Everything is so sensitive, every brush and graze of his skin against your own amplified tenfold— it’s too much but still, you greedily accept everything he’s willing to give you, teary eyes trained to his throat that works around a swallow as he watches you cum with heavy lidded eyes. Babbling around a sob, you part your lips from his in favour of sinking down into the juncture of his neck, your hot cheeks searing against the cooler skin that greets you like a soothing balm.
“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”
“Liam,” you hiccup, grabbing large fistfuls of his t-shirt, the flimsy material the only thing that separates you from miles of toned skin and muscle. That lopsided grin cracks across his face, a dimple cratering onto the centre of his cheek as his teeth flash in an amused smile; his chest heaves, even more so when you slip your hands underneath his tee to palm at bare skin.
Setting you down on shaking legs, his hand encircles one of your wrists and tugs, leading you until you’re perched at the edge of the bed. He turns, elbows flaring wide as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt and drags the material over his head in one fluid motion. The planes of his back are bared to you, each individual muscle rolling and moving with one another as though they’re cogs in a well oiled machine. You want your mouth on every inch of that skin– no corner, no crevice left untouched.
And then he’s on you, prowling with a predatory glint in those cerulean eyes as his pupils swallow the bright hue of his irises; all he sees is you– the way you shrink and tremble at the fervent way he surveys you.
A wide palm slips beneath your own tee and curls around your ribcage, frantically rising and falling with every laboured breath. He shucks the fabric upward to expose your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, and watches with rapt fascination as your nipples harden into peaks under his attention.
You shift until you’re propped up on your elbows to allow him space to discard the item of clothing, complying when he nudges you until you’re flat against the mattress, legs hooked over his hips. Your head turns, face burning at the wolfish way his eyes rake over you, a great contrast to the flattened hands that scrub sweeping lines over the tops of your thighs to soothe your nerves.
“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, folding at the waist to smear a kiss against the curve of your jaw. His next words are a rumble against your skin that seep into your pores, into your very bones. “If it gets too much for you, all you have to do is tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”
His cadence is low and rasping, and the feel of the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek sending a wave of affection through you that knocks the breath from your lungs. You nod.
“Words, sweet girl.”
“Okay,” you croak.
“Good girl.”
Your pussy aches with a sharp throb when he reaches down to press his thumb back to your swollen bundle of nerves; you whine, hips canting up into his touch unconsciously as he slips the wet material down your legs and discards them somewhere behind him.
He presses a kiss to your tummy, your knee, your ankle, and then pushes your legs up and back until they’re folded atop your chest. You gasp when his warm breath fans over your bare sex.
“Liam.”
“I know, angel,” he grunts. His voice patters out into breathless silence as you part your thighs, splaying a hand across his thrumming pulse to wrench him upwards and towards you. He doesn’t resist, putty in your hands. Absolutely, wholly yours.
“Please,” you whisper; his nose brushes yours. “Need you.”
He parts your lips with his own, slaking his hunger on you. He revels in every noise he pulls from your slick lips, every whine and gasp and plead for him to give you what you want. He swallows them all greedily and when - and only when - he’s decided you’ve begged him prettily enough, does he free his weeping cock and line up with your entrance.
He sinks in slowly, every thick inch of him splitting you wider than the previous. He’s thick, cock twitching against your cunt as the flushed head practically begs to be buried inside of you. The colour bleeds from your knuckles as you clutch his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents in the wake of your cruel touch; he hisses, and when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he sweeps down again to press wet, ardent kisses to your face and neck. He hooks your legs up against his hips, pulling back to rock back into the tight clutch of your cunt with slow, rhythmic movements.
He hits every spot inside of you without trying, the spongy head of him rubbing continuously over a particular spot you haven’t discovered yet; it has you keening, sobbing out a broken moan against his balmy cheek as he coos gentle praises against the shell of your ear.
His entire focus is fixated on him desperately trying to not blow his load at the first feel of your cunt clasping him, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he props a forearm either side of your head.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, picking up his pace as your enthusiasm starts to peak, your shaking fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Your body arches beneath him, head tipping back when a soft whine spills from your swollen lips.
The lewd sound of slapping skin and heavy breathing encases your senses, drives you further to that edge that you’ve been aching for since you entered the room.
He’s so beautiful like this it sets you alight with adoration— and arousal: blond hair mussed and falling over his eyes, face flushed as he dips down to brush his nose with your own, plush, pink lips parted into a gasp when you clench around him.
“‘M so close, Li,” you croak, tightening your fingers where they’re carding through his hair.
“I know, angel. I know.” Deft fingers slide between your bodies as he works over your clit rhythmically— sweeping movements that alternate between tight circles and up and down motions as he places pressure on that bundle of nerves.
A sweet, quiet little gasp spills from your lips, and Liam doesn’t miss the way you tense, clinging to him harder as you shatter.
He coaxes you through it, movements never slowing as you ride out your peak, whining against his lips when he swallows your sounds with his mouth.
He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming and writhing beneath him, kicking your legs feebly to push him away; he shudders at the movement, back bowing in the centre until he’s spilling into you with a groan. He braces himself with his head buried in the juncture of your neck, arms hooking around the base of your spine to hold you flush to him.
You both collapse in a haphazard mound of limbs and you roll onto your side to face Liam, his cheek still pressed to yours. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the length of your cheekbone, his smile imprinted into your skin as you hum and needle your way closer into his chest.
You don’t know what to say— neither does he. This silence is comfortable regardless, the gentle, lulling energy encasing the pair of you in this bubble.
He brushes a stray lock of hair from your sticky forehead, smearing a kiss along the crown of your skull. Your lashes flutter, body soft and lax against his own as you greedily seep up his warmth. You’re weightless, your head pleasantly blank when he pulls the blankets over you, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed and to the bathroom.
There’s some shuffling and then emerges seconds later, clad in a clean pair of boxers and clutching a t-shirt for you to take. You’re still how he left you, laying on your side and dozing, cheek smushed against the back of your hand.
“C’mon, angel,” he murmurs, hooking an arm beneath your shoulder to hike you upright, handing you the tee; you rub at your heavy eyes with the backs of your fingers, swiping the fog away. He settles himself between your legs to clean you up, swiping a tissue between your thighs.
“You don’t have to do that, Li,” you croak. “‘M okay, I’ve got it.”
You make to loop your fingers around his wrist to halt his movements, but he only tuts and swats your hand away with a smile. Affection rises in your chest, hot and fast and blinding.
“I’ve got you, my girl.”
There’s that name again. My girl. You’re melting, sure you’re nothing but a pile of mush following those two little words; he surveys you with those cerulean eyes, laced with nothing less than adoration.
“Liam,” you whine, protesting.
“Oh, hush.” He presses a kiss to the curve of your kneecap before pushing the blankets back over your legs.
You pull the oversized tee he’s pushed into your hands over your head appreciatively, resisting the urge to bury your face into the fabric and inhale at the scent of him that cloys the room, that swirls around your face in tantalising tendrils.
You love him, you realise. The admission isn’t terrifying as you thought it would be, but rather a calm wave that washes over you and grants you a newfound clarity. You want this all the time with him. You want everything.
The bed dips as he returns to your side, an arm around your waist until you’re both propped against the headboard, your face resting in the dip of his collarbone. You feel his cheek pressed to the top of your head.
Your chest feels as though it might cave in at any moment, the sheer volume of love you hold for this boy too much for your body to hold onto. You brush your lips against his shoulder, blinking slowly in your haze. The rumble of his laugh carries right down to your bones.
“You’re beautiful,” you mumble, already half-asleep.
“You’re more beautiful,” he whispers back as though it’s a secret. Private words shared between the pair of you, for no one else to hear.
You’re asleep before you can respond, draped lazily over his torso. He shucks the blankets up until they’re covering you right up to your shoulders. Your nose scrunches unconsciously.
Fuck, he loves you.
For Your Own Good (AO3) ► Series see warnings on series page
ANBU Kakashi (AO3) ► Series see warnings on series page
Famished (AO3) warnings: fluff and smut, cunnilingus, oral sex, masturbation, cum eating, praise kink, POV Kakashi
What Do You Say? (AO3) warnings: fluff and smut, oral sex, blow job, cunnilingus, face-sitting, masturbation, cum swallowing, praise kink, POV reader
Distractions (AO3) warnings: smut, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow jobs, 69, vaginal fingering, praise kink, cum swallowing, no plot at all, POV Kakashi
Maybe I Don't Have to Choose (AO3) warnings: smut, threesome (M/F/M), use of shadow clones, oral sex, blow jobs, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, spit-roasting, cum swallowing, praise kink, masturbation, POV reader
That's What I Thought (AO3) warnings: smut, rough sex, rough oral sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, praise kink, blow jobs, cum swallowing, choking, overstimulation, POV reader
Remember What You Said (AO3) warnings: smut, light angst, teasing, nipple play, vaginal sex, hurt/comfort, POV Kakashi
Leave It On (AO3) warnings: smut, teasing, vaginal fingering, doggy-style, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, breeding kink
It'll Be Easier If I Show You (AO3) warnings: fluff, smut, spooning, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, light angst if you squint
As Close As Possible (AO3) warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie | written for the sex me up event
Don't Mind Me (AO3) warnings: smut, established relationship, masturbation (male), teasing, cockwarming, riding, voice kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, POV reader
Kinktober '23 Masterlist
One: Biting w/ Volo
Three: Blowjob w/ Ryomen Sukuna
Five: Blood w/ Kokichi Ouma
Seven: Hands/Fingers w/ Izuru Kamukura
Nine: Taste Game w/ PG! Shuichi Saihara (Request)
Eleven: Overstimulation w/ Kokichi Ouma (Request)
Thirteen: Degradation w/ Nagito Komaeda
Fifteen: Urophilia w/ Ryomen Sukuna
Seventeen: Upskirt w/ Kokichi Ouma
Nineteen: Forced w/ Volo
Twenty-One: Cigarettes w/ Junko Enoshima
Twenty-Three: Breeding w/ Beam
Twenty-Five: Spitroast w/ Junko Enoshima and Mukuro Ikusaba
Twenty-Seven: Exhibitionism w/ Satoru Gojo
Twenty-Nine: Possessive w/ Nagito Komaeda
Thirty-One: Edging w/ Ryomen Sukuna
Headcanon
Oneshot
Please read warnings for each fic as some will contain non-con and dub-con elements ❤️
Spotify playlist here
View on AO3 here
Tight Black Leathers
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *
Pairing(s): Liam x reader
Warnings: SMUT, mdni, 18+
Summary: As Liam's girlfriend, you've been feeling rather... fed up, lately, that he's been ordered to hang out all day with another female. So... whatever will you do about it?
SR’s Note: Ooh, switching it up with a Fourth Wing fic? Okay, okay... and yes of course, Liam is my favorite character from Fourth Wing. No, I still haven't recovered. No, I probably never will. Denial is a river in Egypt-
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *
You clicked the power button on your phone once more, checking fruitlessly to see if your boyfriend had responded to your message. Of course, he hadn't -- but you'd expected as much. It was Friday, which meant he was on Violet-duty today, per usual.
With a sigh, you tucked the device into your pocket, zipping it shut as a familiar voice approached behind you.
"Hey Y/N!" Rhiannon's usual bubbly tone made you smile, and she took in your state. Her face softened as she took you in a warm embrace. You appreciated the kindness she offered you -- her friendship was a priceless one you'd made after crossing the parapet. She was one of the only people, other than your boyfriend, who truly understood how hard it was to be a rider when you were meant your whole life to be a healer instead.
"Still haven't heard from him?" She asks softly, releasing you. You shake your head, and she loops her arm through yours, pulling you with her in a cadence down the dormitory hallway.
"Well, there's no point in waiting around doing nothing," she starts. "We may as well have some lunch, hmm?" As if on cue, your stomach gurgles, and you both chuckle at the sound. You truly couldn't be more grateful -- you hadn't eaten all morning.
Entering the cafeteria, you find your squad -- well, most of them. Imogene's unmissable pink hair shakes back and forth as she listens to a ridiculous story Ridoc recounts; Sawyer is laughing at something Bodhi is saying across the table. You can't help but wonder...
"Hey guys!" Ridoc greets Rhiannon and you with a smile, but you only continue to search the tables near you. Imogene folds her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair.
"He's not here," she says, and you look to her. Rhiannon takes a seat, motioning for you to sit by her, but you only stare at Imogene in hopes she'll keep talking. "Violet took the lunch break to get in extra training time, so-"
You squeeze your eyes shut, head dropping to face the floor. You'd been missing him so much recently, since Xaden assigned him to follow your fellow cadet around like a guardian, you barely saw him anymore. Your own boyfriend. He was spending time with another female. That was really starting to get old.
"Of course." You clip. Ridoc huffs a laugh, and Rhiannon glares at him.
"He's only doing what Xaden tells him-" Bodhi begins, and your eyes slide to his.
"Anymore, I don't really care what Xaden-" Your rage begins to bubble over, and the table falls silent as their gazes drift behind you. Shadows curl around your fists, the cool tendrils working against your warmed skin.
"Care what Xaden... what, exactly? As your Wingleader, I would love to hear you finish that sentence, Y/N." Xaden's lethally calm voice sounds from behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, face falling at the realization. You shake your head.
"I... it's... look, I just think it's a bit much to have Liam following Violet around all day, don't you think? Can't she defend herself?" You ask. His hard gaze on you only intensifies.
"I would say Liam is one of the strongest in this wing, wouldn't you agree?" He asks, and you nod.
"Yes, but-"
"So he will continue to defend what's most precious to me." He says in finality, turning to walk away as you scoff, throwing your hands in the air.
"What about what's most precious to me, huh? I never get to see him anymore because you're always having him whisked away to defend your girlfriend -- isn't that your job!?" You nearly shout. The entire room goes silent, and Bodhi slaps a hand over his mouth. Rhiannon's jaw is practically on the floor, but your eyes are only met with Xaden's searing gaze as he turns to face you once more. He steps close to you, speaking again in his constrained, calm voice.
"I highly suggest you take the rest of the afternoon off, cadet y/l/n. You seem a bit high strung -- wouldn't want you too worked up for the challenges later this evening." The muscle in his jaw ticks as you turn on your heel, beelining for the exit and stomping all the way back to your dorm room.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
You know what? Xaden was right. The afternoon off was exactly what you needed before a night full of challenges. You spent the whole afternoon getting yourself more riled up within the confines of your dorm, pacing back and forth and glaring into your mirror. Did you nap? Nope. Try to calm down, do some meditation, maybe? Absolutely not. Perhaps stretch, or read a book so you were at ease before the night began then. Hell no.
You were ripping a brush through your long hair, slamming it down on your desk when you decided the strands were untangled enough. You yanked at the band around your wrist, muscle memory causing your hands to wind your hair into a ponytail atop your head when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You glance down at your phone still dark on your desk, and an idea sparks in your mind. Dropping your hands, you run them through the strands a few times before separating the mass into three sections. Since he likes the Sorrengail so damn bad, you thought. Maybe you'd show him you she wasn't anything special. She was just like everyone else here; she was just like you.
Securing the band at the base of the tight braid, you sway side to side, pleased with the result. Pulling on your tightest-fitting leathers and boots, you sheath your finest daggers and head out of your room. Within minutes, you've crossed the courtyard and are in the training center, approaching a mat near the center where you find Ridoc and Bodhi and Rhiannon gathered. Rhiannon turns when Ridoc whistles loudly at you. You lighten your steps on instinct, realizing you're still stomping your way across the mats toward them.
"Ohhhh my, Y/N," she looks you up and down, taking you in fully. You huff a breath, pretending not to notice her stare. Or Ridoc's. Or Bodhi's. Or Violet's...
Or Liam's. From three mats over.
"New tactic?" Ridoc laughs, and you roll your eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uhhh, distracting your opponent with the tightest black fighting leathers you could find?" Rhiannon giggles, and you scoff, feigning innocence. Bodhi only groans.
"CADETS, attention please!" Emmetario shouts. He stalks closer to the mat you stand before, calling off more pairs for challenges. You and your friends watch as people fight and wrestle match after match. Rhiannon wins her challenge, Ridoc hands Jack Barlowe's ass to him, and your attention snags on the mat a few feet away as a new pairing is called forth. Your perfect, wonderful boyfriend is taking the mat, shucking off his tee and revealing his perfectly toned body, abdominals flexing as he laughs at something Xaden says. He takes a fighting stance as another guy from third wing stands opposite him, and they begin. It's not long before Liam has the poor fella on the floor, tapping out. Being the kind male he is, Liam hops off and helps him up, shaking his hand and offering him a kind smile after they finish their challenge.
As he is exiting the mat, his eyes meet yours and widen slightly, raking over your body as he slowly steps off the platform. They linger on the straps clinging to the curve of your ass, then trail back up to the form-fitting compression shirt you've chosen and his brows knit in confusion when he notices your new hairstyle. You tilt your chin up and flip your hair over your shoulder, just as Emmetario bellows once more.
"Bodhi and Y/N!"
You walk onto the mat, Rhiannon cheering from the sidelines. Bodhi looks to you in silent apology, and you position yourself close to your friend, taking your beginning stance. You can see the worry in his expression, and you glance to your left as Liam, Violet, and Xaden flank the edge of the mat to observe as well.
"Bodhi, it's alright. I know you won't hurt me for real," You say. He grins at you.
"Never." Is all he says, taking his beginning position, not-so-subtly drinking in your form so close to his. You smirk.
"Begin!" Emmetario calls. Bodhi immediately lunges for you, but you're quick and dodge his advance, and he stumbles forward -- you've trained with him countless times, you knew he'd make the first move. You snake to the side, wrapping your arms around his midsection and using your whole body weight to throw yourselves both to the ground. You cry out as you land on your own elbow, and he tries to roll you onto your back. You dig your heels into the ground, fighting with all your strength to stay to the side of him and not let him get on top. He's stronger though, flipping you with his hands around your knees. You plant both feet in his ribs, knocking into him with as much force as you can muster and he falls back with a sharp cry.
The growing crowd winces and you jump to your feet once more, him following suit and clutching his side only for a moment before charging you once more. You crouch; but you're too slow this time. In seconds, his hands wrap around your waist and your thrown over his shoulder, hands smacking against his back.
You know what comes next -- this is the part where your opponent will throw you onto the mat, onto your back, knocking the wind out of you. You won't let that happen; not tonight. You tap into the rage you felt, all day, all week, and unleash it, feeling every feeling all over again.
Anger. You push against Bodhi, his hands losing grip and you tumbling haphazardly down his back. "Keep pushing, Y/N!" Rhiannon shouts.
Hate. You turn, Bodhi's still doubled over. Now's your chance. You run, jump, cling onto him, grabbing his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist-
Jealousy. It was a ploy. He whips you around, throwing you to the mat, hard. You shriek, breath catching in your throat as he holds you down with his forearm. He gazes down at you, his familiar friendly orbs glowing with warmth as he shifts uncomfortably above you.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N, but... I'll be damned if anyone ever climbs me like a fuckin' tree-" the words die in his throat as your red-hot emotions dissipate, laughter rising and breaking free past your lips as he chuckles along with you.
"I don't care! I said she's done!" The sharp tone has your gaze turning to the left, the crowd making way as Emmetario calls after the tall male entering the mat and heading straight for you. In seconds, Bodhi's weight is completely lifted off of you and you suck in a breath of full, delightful air.
"Yep, and you can stay the fuck off of her, thank you very much," Liam gripes, bending down to grasp both of your hands in his and pull you up. You gasp as pain blooms in your back, and he begins leading you off the mat, away from the crowd. Toward the exit.
"Liam... Liam... I didn't tap out; my challenge wasn't over-" you stutter. He turns, his raging blue eyes narrowed on you. Yours widened in shock as you register an emotion so rare, especially for him you almost missed it.
Sadness.
"Trust me. It was over."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
"Liam, it's only a bruise, it'll be healed in a few-"
"He shouldn't have been man-handling you like that."
You stare at him, pacing back and forth in your dorm room from the bed where you sit. He half carried you back here a half hour ago, ending your challenge early and ignoring orders from a professor in the process. Now he seemed all worked up over your injuries, which were rather minor, at that.
"Like what, exactly? Liam, I've trained with Bodhi a million times. I know he would never hurt me. Not for real, anyways." You say, and Liam meets your gaze. His deep blue eyes are as dark as the midnight sea, only illuminated by the candle lights in your room. He chews on his bottom lip, halting his pacing.
"He trains with you?" He asks quietly. You scoff incredulously, fiddling with the band at the end of your braid and loosening the strands.
"Yeah? He's my friend, Liam. I have to have someone to spar with, right? It's not like my boyfriend is exactly... available..." you trail off, casting your eyes toward the floor. You finish undoing your braid, the strands hanging in loose waves over your shoulders. His brows knot in confusion.
"Y/N, what are you... what do you mean?" he walks close, kneeling before you, placing his hands on your knees. His face is level with yours, and Gods damn you if you don't want to kiss him-
"You know I'm always here for you Y/N..." he says softly. You meet his gaze, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth to keep it from quivering.
"Liam... I barely even see you anymore." Oh boy, here we go. "You always have to be with... with Violet... and if I do see you, it's never in our own privacy... I never just get you alone, to myself..." you trail off. He presses a soft kiss to your knee, and you praise yourself for changing into shorts and one of his big shirts when you returned earlier.
"Baby... you know I just have to hang out with Violet for now, just because of all the attacks and such, but," he places another soft kiss further up your thigh, and you feel your pulse quickening by the second. "...you have me alone... right now, right?" He asks sweetly, his eyes meeting yours again. You lean back on your elbows, and though his tone is sweet, the lust swirling in his irises tells a different story. You nod wordlessly, and he continues moving up your body, softly pushing up the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. His eyes remain in contact with your as he plants soft kisses up your abdomen, the muscles flexing as you fight to remain calm under his searing touch.
He pulls back, lips curing into a wicked grin as his eyes waver to your waistband, and he hooks a finger under the seam.
"If you wanted to be... man-handled... you could have just... asked." He says, your eyes widening at his words. Heat pools between your thighs, the incessant need for your boyfriend to ravage you only growing with every passing second he teases you. He chuckles, slipping a hand beneath the bands of both your shorts and underwear and wasting no time sliding a finger through your folds, easily gliding through the slickness. His lusting gaze meets yours again, and his free hand pushes himself closer to you on the bed.
"Mmm... you really have been missing me, haven't you?" You nod, looking up at him doe-eyed and innocent. He shakes his head, cupping your jaw and running a thumb over your lower lip while continuing to tease your leaking heat with his other hand.
"Such a good girl... I haven't been around as much as I should, have I." He says it more to himself, his forefinger circling your entrance and you rock your hips forward, aching for more.
"I haven't been as good of a boyfriend lately, and I'm sorry for that, okay?" He cups your cheek, and you meet his gaze.
"Liam... please..." you beg.
"Let me make it up to you?" He asks. Your nod of confirmation is all he needs as he slips both his index and middle fingers in -- knuckles deep. You gasp, jolting forward a bit and he pulls out, reinserting and driving them back in again. You bite out a moan, leaning back on your hands and looking up into his eyes. He's smirking down at you, drinking in every inch of your complexion as he massages that spongy spot inside of you.
"Liam..." you chant. "Liam, oh... my..... please-" He rises from his knees on the floor, continuing to curl his fingers inside you, to hover over you. He cuts off your whimpers with a beautiful, bruising kiss that is both sloppy and salivating. A mix of tongue and teeth clash as you make out with a primal need, his teeth finding your swollen bottom lip and playfully latching on. You groan once more, feeling the warm band in your stomach tightening.
"Gods I'm... I'm so-" Liam retracts his fingers and you groan, his lips finding yours again. He shucks his trousers off, kicking his boots off moments later. He breaks the kiss, yanking his shirt over his head and pulling yours off after, your bottoms following. Laying bare before him, he breathes deep, loosing his breath through the nose as he hovers overtop of your naked form.
"Y/N, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says sweetly. You blush, even though this is the hundredth time you've had sex with the man and probably the hundred millionth time he's called you pretty. You feel his hard on grounding against you, and you wiggle your hips, only creating more friction. Liams hand meets your hip, holding firm.
"Tsk tsk," he says, kissing your nose. His hand snakes between the two of you, his knuckles brushing against your pelvis making you shiver. His fingers wrap around the length of his cock and stroke a few times as he inches closer, and when the head finally makes contact with your dripping core, you whimper.
"Li... please..." He flashes you a devilish grin, his cute dimple warming your heart as your hands find their way to his built shoulders atop you.
"Since you asked so nicely," he says lowly, and pushes into you. You suck in a breath, the small stretch increasingly painful as he continues to push in, inch by delicious inch. The pleasure courses through you when he is finally fully sheathed inside of you, a growl escaping his throat as his hips retract and slam back in with immeasurable force.
"LIAM-" You shout. He pulls his hips back again, only pulling out half way as he continues to pound into you relentlessly, relishing in every breathless moan and scream of his name he can pull from your perfect lips.
"So tight, baby.... my gorgeous, gorgeous girl," he praises. Your hands slide down his tones arms, and the calloused fingers on one of his hands thread through your delicate ones, holding them to the mattress above your head. His breath comes out in short pants, and you let out a particularly sharp gasp.
"Ugh, fuck Liam; just like that," you breathe. His fingers let go of yours and wrap around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest. HIs pace quickens as your breasts bounce with every quick thrust he delivers.
"You feel so good, Y/N," he says between breaths. His soft grunts almost send you over the edge, the new pace and angle spurring the impending orgasm from within. His warm breath tickles your neck, and his lips find your cheek, placing a single kiss as he continues to savagely thrust into you. "So perfect..." he whimpers.
You can't hold it together long enough to warn him this time as you fly over the edge, your orgasm barreling through you. You cry out, hands tugging on the ends of Liam's hair as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock that hasn't yet slowed, riding you through your high. Your thighs start to shake, and Liam's mouth drops open as his eyes meet yours once more.
"Oh fuck, Y/N-" he jolts, releasing inside of your pulsing core as his movements begin to slow. Your combined ragged breaths are the only sounds filling the room, and his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone as his eyes lovingly gaze into yours again. You offer him a soft smile in your fucked-out state and he chuckles, slowly slipping out of you and retrieving a cloth from your desk. You move to take it from him, but per usual, he insists on cleaning you up himself.
Ahh, the gentleman he is.
He returns from tossing the cloth in the wastebasket, and you pull his big tee over your head for the second time today. He frowns at you, and shrugs, reaching for his pants and pulling them back up over his hips. He takes the spot on the bed next to you, propping up on an elbow to stare down upon you.
"I meant it," he starts, and you sigh.
"Liam-"
"Really, Y/N. I know its shitty that I have to always hang around with Violet. I know it sucks that it means I have less time with you. And... and I know it isn't your favorite thing. It isn't mine either." He says, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around his index finger before letting it fall, and going for another piece.
"I know this, and I still listen to Xaden's orders. I know that doesn't make me a very good boyfriend, and I need to do better." He says in finality with a nod. "I'll talk to Xaden in the morning about it." You lean up off the bed, planting your lips on his. His hands cradle the back of your head, kissing you back with all the love he has to give. When you pull away, you know that no matter what, no matter how much or how little time you have together, there's no changing the connection the two of you share.
"Liam, I don't think I could find a better boyfriend than the one laying next to me in this very moment. You're as good as they get, my love."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
lk i just posted smth else anonymous but could you make a isagi bday special pretty pls
like reader make a plan to go hang out as a date and when he gets home he’s surprised with a little party with him and his friends/family.
you have free rein with everything else lol
“𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢!”
a/n: i love my man
isagi barely had time to kick off his cleats before you practically tackled him at the door, arms wrapping around his waist as you beamed up at him.
“happy birthday, birthday boy!” you cheered, rocking side to side while still latched onto him.
he huffed a laugh, dropping his bag and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re way too excited for my birthday.”
“of course i am!” you grinned, finally pulling back to let him breathe. “now, hurry up and shower. we have a date to go on!”
“a date?” he blinked, tilting his head. “weren’t we just gonna have dinner at home?”
“nope, i made a special plan for your special day.” you grinned mischievously, and he could already tell you were up to something. “now, go, go! i need you clean and smelling good.”
he snorted but obeyed, letting you push him toward the bathroom while you busied yourself in the kitchen, making sure everything was ready. when he emerged, fresh and slightly damp from his shower, he was greeted by the sight of you holding up a neatly wrapped scarf.
“what’s this?” he asked, suspicious.
“a blindfold.”
“i – what?”
“trust the process, isagi yoichi.”
with an exasperated sigh but a fond smile, he let you tie it over his eyes, and soon enough, you were leading him out the door. “this isn’t a murder plot, right?” he joked as you carefully guided him to your destination. “because rin told me once that you look like the type to commit a crime of passion.”
“oh my gosh, what?” you cackled. “first of all, rude. second of all, no. but if i were, you’d never see it coming.”
“that’s not comforting!”
ignoring his protests, you finally reached your planned date spot: a cute little arcade, which, conveniently, was close enough to home for your surprise to work seamlessly. removing his blindfold, you gestured grandly to the flashing lights and game machines.
“tadaaa! birthday boy gets to play whatever he wants!”
his eyes widened with childlike excitement. “seriously?”
“seriously.” you smirked, holding up a cup filled with tokens. “but fair warning, i’m gonna destroy you in every game.”
“you’re talking big for someone who lost in air hockey last time.”
“what are you talking about? that was rigged.”
and just like that, the two of you dove into battle. from racing games to claw machines, to an absolutely ruthless dance battle where you may or may not have tripped over your own foot, the date was filled with laughter and competitiveness. isagi, of course, had to show off his accuracy skills in a shooting game, and you had to flex your button-mashing abilities in a classic fighting game.
by the end of it, he was grinning so wide his cheeks probably hurt, pockets filled with tiny prizes he’d won (including a ridiculous keychain of a cat wearing sunglasses that you insisted was “his energy in an item”).
“okay, that was actually the best,” he admitted as you both walked back home. “thank you.”
“ah ah ah, not done yet.” you shot him another mischievous smile, quickening your pace. he furrowed his brows but followed, only to be met with a pitch-dark apartment when you stepped inside.
“huh?” he muttered. “did we forget to –”
“SURPRISE!!”
the lights flicked on, revealing a small but lively gathering of his closest friends and family. bachira was the first to practically launch himself at isagi, clinging onto him like a koala.
“happy birthday, isagiii! i missed you so much today, man. did she treat you well? did she pamper you? did she give you birthday kisses?” he looked right over at you, making you roll your eyes playfully.
“get off me, bachira,” isagi laughed, though he didn’t push him away.
“we got you a cake, yoichi,” his mother piped up from the side, smiling warmly. “but first, you should eat real food before you fill up on sugar.”
“yeah, yeah,” rin muttered, arms crossed. “and don’t expect me to sing. i was forced to be here.”
“you love me, rin,” isagi teased, to which rin merely scoffed and looked away.
“you guys took your time, huh?” nagi yawned from the couch.
reo smacked his arm. “don’t fall asleep yet.”
“yeah, we gotta get to the gifts!” bachira added excitedly, finally detaching himself from isagi. “we all got you something super cool.”
“oh?” isagi glanced at you curiously. “did you plan all this?”
“maybe,” you said with a smug smile. “but it wasn’t just me. everyone helped.”
his heart swelled at the thought. he never expected anything grand for his birthday, just spending time with you would have been more than enough. but this? this was perfect.
as the night went on, filled with food, laughter, and some absolutely terrible karaoke courtesy of sendou and shidou, isagi found himself staring at you from across the room, feeling a warmth he couldn’t quite put into words.
when the cake was brought out and everyone sang (yes, even rin, begrudgingly), he blew out his candles, making a silent wish.
later, when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch after everyone had left, he murmured, “this was the best birthday i’ve ever had.”
“really?” you poked his cheek. “better than last year when i let you win in mario kart?”
“you didn’t let me win.”
“… okay, maybe not.”
he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “thank you, seriously.”
“anything for my birthday boy.” you grinned. “same time next year?”
“definitely.”
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
"𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭"
it had been three years that you and isagi yoichi have been dating for. so you couldn’t help but be suspicious why he was leading your hand to the beach known as the “sea of stars” in maldives, also the same place that you told him you dreamt of being proposed to at.
“your eyes are still closed, right?”
“uh huh,” you nod, heart beating in your chest furiously. was tonight the night?
it could have been. this whole trip was very spontaneous after all. your boyfriend had even wanted to book the whole thing and pay for all your expenses himself, even pre-trip stuff like a fresh mani/pedi and new clothes and bags. it was a nice surprise, but he was extra insistent about everything.
the two of you had just finished eating dinner at a fancy restaurant. your lips still taste sweet from the dessert, too. but after getting lost in conversation for an hour, yoichi all of a sudden said he wanted to “take you somewhere,” but “you have to close your eyes.”
the familiar warmth and texture of the grainy sand hits your bare toes as he takes off your heels. you hear him shuffling to take off his shoes, too, then his large hand grabs yours, gently leading you ashore. the relaxing sounds of ocean waves crashing grow louder and louder with each step.
“you’re not gonna push me in the water, right?”
his chuckle fills the air. “wouldn’t dream of it. plus, i wouldn’t wanna ruin that beautiful black off-the-shoulder dress.”
“... you’re acting weird.”
“am i?”
it seemed as if you wouldn’t shut up, trying to mask the nervousness bubbling in your gut. but before you could begin yapping about your favorite part of the dessert you shared an hour ago, you hear, “open your eyes.”
the sight in front of you is breathtaking. stars scattered above in the sky and in the ocean, dark blue neon dots glowing brighter with every movement of a calm wave. you’ve dreamed of seeing bioluminescent phytoplankton like this before, kneeling down gently to lift your dress and place your feet in the water, watching blue glow around your skin.
“wow, it’s so pretty!” you exclaim.
yoichi nods, watching you from a few feet behind as you play around in the water. he’s not one to get his long pants wet, but he’s all for seeing you happy.
after you’re done, you walk back up to him. “there’s like almost no one here!”
“i might’ve paid them to leave us alone for ten minutes,” yoichi shrugs, earning a playful slap to his chest. with a laugh, he points to your left. “look over there.”
you turn to your left, cocking your head as to what he was possibly pointing at. there’s nothing, no boats, no people. just the water and more ethereal bioluminescence. you turn back around, confused.
“i don’t see –”
you’re cut off with yoichi on one knee in front of you, a hand covering half of his face as the other holds a velvet box with a large oval-cut diamond ring on a simple gold band.
“i don’t even know where to start,” he laughs nervously, removing the hand from his face. it’s a bit dark, the only source of light being from the ocean, but you can tell he’s red. “i’ve been rehearsing since 3 AM in the hotel bathroom and i couldn’t sleep.”
you already feel hot tears brimming at your eyelids. yoichi notices, but for you, for this moment, he tries his best to keep himself composed.
“honestly, i’ve been in love with you since the moment i laid eyes on you. and every single day since then, i’ve fallen harder, deeper, and more helplessly into this love. you have completely ruined me, in the best way possible. i can’t function without thinking about you. i wake up thinking about you. i go to sleep thinking about you. every little thing you do, every smile, every laugh, every time you look at me… i swear, it feels like my heart is about to explode."
he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief at just how gone he is.
“you are my entire world. you are my best friend, my greatest joy, my deepest love, and, honestly, my only personality trait at this point. i would do anything for you. anything. If you told me to swim across this entire ocean right now, i’d ask you if you wanted me to backstroke or freestyle. if you asked me to count every single star in the sky just so you’d know how much i love you, i’d be out here all night, every night, for the rest of my life."
his voice is thick with emotion, looking up at you with complete devotion.
“i have never, not for a second, doubted that you are the one for me. you are my forever, my always, my everything. so, here i am, in front of the most beautiful person in the world, under the most beautiful sky, by the most beautiful ocean, asking the most important question i will ever ask… will you let me spend forever proving that i was meant to be your husband?"
the waves crash softly, the stars above shining brighter, as if the universe itself is waiting for the only answer that could possibly exist.
“yes.”
it was an easy answer, one that needed no hesitation from you. with the happiest smile and a weight lifted off his chest, yoichi slides the ring onto your left ring finger, standing up, picking you up, and twirling you around with joy.
on this night, the stars bore witness to the two of you beginning forever.
𐙚
it’s safe to say that the internet BLEW up after you posted pictures of you with your diamond engagement ring with the caption: “in my fiance eraaa”
everyone knew of your engagement, shippers going crazy and every social media algorithm showing users your beautiful diamond ring that probably cost $1 million easily.
your comments flooded with fans expressing heartfelt congratulations and jealous haters who could only dream of having a love like yours. your family and friends were also very happy for you and so were yoichi’s family and teammates.
a/n: i am aware that everyone has different skin tones, i just used this pic to show off what the ring looks like!
it would be a lie to say you didn’t spend the next day on pinterest looking at wedding inspo instead of enjoying your vacation.
𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:
the wedding ceremony was held a year later.
you made sure to keep it private, only inviting close friends and family from both sides, but there were still a lot of people.
though you might need to be studied, because how did you break the internet again?
shortly after releasing your wedding pictures, they went just as viral as your engagement announcement.
it wasn’t just the off-shoulder lace mermaid dress, or the way yoichi basically began crying the moment he saw you, or the fact you opted to walk down the aisle alone to show how no one but you was going to give yourself away to the love of your life, or how bachira had a dance-off moment with a soccer ball on the middle of the stage, or the fact that rin actually gave a speech.
no, it was your long trailing veil scattered across the ground with two words delicately embroidered at the end: “MRS. ISAGI.”
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
a/n: yes i am gonna keep writing about my man
(･ω･)つ andy’s notes: many folks requested this menace, enjoy! cws: smut, all characters 20+, fantasies about oral - m!receiving, face fucking, dirty talk, degradation, gn!reader
touchstarved!isagi who practically has entire playbooks dedicated to how to talk to you. attempts to get advice from his teammates, but they're all equally bad at flirting
touchstarved!isagi who is about as subtle as a brick to the head when it comes to liking you. big ol’ eyes following you around wherever you go, yap mode set to 11 whenever you sit next to him
touchstarved!isagi who is the nastiest little pervert as soon as he’s alone, fisting his cock and daydreaming about you trembling underneath him
touchstarved!isagi who can’t believe his fucking luck when you agree to go out with him
touchstarved!isagi who stutters and blushes when you hold his hand on your after-dinner stroll
touchstarved!isagi whose makes his confidence known later that night, laughing between your thighs, your arousal dripping from his chin. "did you think I was done, princess? just gettin' started" (good luck walking tomorrow)
2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. divider by @bernardsbendystraws
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