Hii! I Just Saw Your Loren Art Work And HE. IS.SO. CUTEEE!!! The Pink Collar Around His Neck Is But It

Hii! I just saw your Loren art work and HE. IS.SO. CUTEEE!!! 💖💖 the pink collar around his neck is 😍😍 but it made me think of a funny scenario (most likely one where reader knows about his obsession with them and uses it to their advantage)

It was a huge game for the college team. Almost everyone and their grand mama came to see it! Two rival teams competing against each other, both known for their long streaks of winning, and not only that! Loren’s darling is on the sidelines cheering him on! (You are probably just watching the game bored out of your mind cuz the coach FORCED you to be there *saying it’ll give them a higher chance of winning*) unfortunately though Loren’s team seems to be losing by a couple points. The stands are restless and the other teams stands even started mocking the players! With Loren’s coach yelling and hollering he suddenly got an idea.

Coach: OY! Number 13’s (girlfriend/boyfriend)! Get over here!

Surprised at the sudden call over you quickly walked over to him. “What-“ “-no time for Lilly gagging! I need you to give number 13 a pep talk! Some type of motivation! You hear me!? I ain’t gonna let these assholes win!!” He cut you off and told you what to do. Thinking for a minute as he pushed you to where Loren was taking a break on the bench, a thought popped up. You sighed and stood in front of him, he looked up to you in with that cute gaze and a sad smile. “Hey (y/n), I know this ain’t look too good but I bet we can still turn this around!” He tried to stay positive (as positive as you can get when making a fool of your self in front of your crush). You just lowered yourself to his eye level and started talking.

(Y/n): don’t worry bout that, don’t worry about what already happened. Just focus on what you do next. Cuz like you said you still have time to turn it around. *you grabbed the back of his neck and leaned into his ear, whispering* if you do manage to win,I’ll celebrate with you-give you a reward. I’ll do things so VILE to you that it’ll make the devil blush~ *giving him a smirk and a kiss on the cheek you left him on the bench*

Meanwhile the other team:”We are destroying those fools!” “They can’t keep up with us!” “That trophy is—wait do y’all hear boss music??”

Long story short Loren’s team won, the other team had most of their players end up in the hospital and he didn’t leave your apartment for almost 3 days after. (He also couldn’t walk properly for a whole week and had to wear more “covering” clothes for a while) —💖💖 anon

I almost feel like I don’t need to write anything at this point! The scenario is too good too pass up though.

——————————

Loren was frustrated. You could see it from where you sat on the teams bench. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be sat their, as it was reserved for the team and all, but the coach had made an exception for you on account of Loren’s-….crush. Or whatever it was. You didn’t know and you didn’t care.

But you had to admit, seeing that look on his face was a little upsetting. The guy had been sweet to you. A little overbearing, but sweet. And you found it a bit hard to deny the butterflies in your stomach whenever he looked so eager for praise or attention from you.

You weren’t stupid. Loren had made his intentions very clear after the first few meetings. “My lucky charm” he so often said. You found that almost laughable, what with how unlucky you often seemed to be.

That felt all the more true when you watched Loren let out a frustrated sigh, his helmet being roughly pulled from his head as the coach called a time out.

You watched, in a somewhat flattered manner, as narrowed brown eyes found their place on you, and subsequently widened in shock and awe. A wide smile broke onto the star players face as he made a beeline straight towards you.

You stood up once he came to a stop infront of the bench you occupied, and handed him his water bottle.

Loren’s tan cheeks flushed darkly, though you weren’t ignorant enough to assume it was from sweat with the way he was staring at you.

It was intense enough to make your heart beat just a little faster.

He panted after a quick sip, trying to catch his breath and not sound more pathetic than he felt.

“What-“ a deep breath “what’re you doing here? I thought you had a test tomorrow?”

Loren didn’t do much to hide how happy he was seeing you. Though the embarrassment of his previous play seemed to quickly settle in when he realized you had been watching him flounder about on the field.

You gave a soft huff and folded your arms. “Yeah-, well.” You glanced to the side, a bit shyly. You weren’t embarrassed. Only a little actually. Maybe a lot. “I finished early and decided to come see the game. A friend of mine told me it was a big deal or something so I figured I’d might as well.” Actually you knew the whole time. And you skipped studying. The real reason you showed up was because you felt guilty after seeing his face when you first rejected the offer.

God it payed to be pretty didn’t it?

Loren’s smile became all the wider at your answer. Though you spotted what seemed like mirth dancing in his eyes, before he shook his head of the cold water he sprayed onto it and looked deeply at you.

“Well I’m glad you came. Though, I wish you hadn’t see us getting our asses kicked out there..”

Jesus that kicked puppy look was killing you. You imagined he probably felt the brunt of his teams failure. Since he was the captain and all. You felt a bit bad for the guy.

“….”

You bit your lip softly.

Am I really about to do this?

If there was one thing you learned about Loren, Is he was driven by motivation. And nothing got him more motivated than you. He was more like a dog than people realized.

With only a few minutes left in the game, you decided it was a now or never situation. Besides, it wasn’t the worse case scenario.

You didn’t mine the idea actually.

With quick resolve you gripped the front of Loren’s jersey with one hand, yanked him down to your height and gripped the hair on the back of his neck firmly with the other, earning a startled grunt from the burly player who looked at you with wide glazed over eyes.

The way he was staring at you was borderline…..

Whatever that wasn’t important right now.

“Loren. I don’t know why the fuck your playing like shit right now.” Your heart ached at the borderline whimper that poured from the poor brunettes chest, “But I know damn well you can kick this shitty little teams ass.”

Loren’s breath cought in his throat for a moment, and he stared deeply in your eyes as if searching for any hint that you didn’t believe what you just said. But when he found nothing he swallowed thickly with a raging flush.

“(Y/n)…”

Time to real him in.

With a heavy exhale you furrowed your brows and gripped tighter on to his shirt.

“If you make a come back and win this game…”

“I’ll give you a kiss.”

.

.

.

Somehow the deafening roar of the two teams crowds faded instantly into white noise. The bright lights of the night poles buzzed dully in your ears as Loren’s brown eyes burned so hard into you, you swore you’d go blind.

“On the lips?”

“On the lips.”

You watched as this 6’6 hunk of man slid onto his knees in front of you, and you forced yourself not to whip around in embarrassment at the sight and the possibly of a dozen eyes watching you.

Loren breathed deeply, pushing his head into your stomach softly, like a dog asking to be pet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingers through is soft wet hair.

He shuddered, and shakily exhaled. “Promise?” He begged this wasn’t a cruel joke. Something you were going to hang over head.

“Promise.”

Holy fuck

You’d never seen a guy bolt up like that before. With nimble feet he grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the pads of your fingers, like a promise of what was to come, before turning around and marching onto the field, helmet now securely placed on his head.

The aura he had was intense. Like he was officially in the game for the first time that night. And it seemed both teams realized this, with the way their shoulders tensed and the audience grew more frenzied.

It was over before the enemy could even blink, and the sound of cheers that followed was deafening.

You could feel yourself smile a bit at the sight of Loren’s teammates crowding around him excitedly, like kids who just won a new toy.

He laughed loudly, though quickly jerked away from their hold and ran to you.

He was out of breath when he reached you, and the furious red on his cheeks was very telling. In fact, you were pretty sure the sweat and heavy breathing wasn’t from the game he just played.

Guess you had to commit now huh?

Loren’s gaze was nothing short of eager and desperate, and the way he licked his lips, seemingly unconsciously made the whole thing seem much more vulgar than it actually was.

It was just a kiss right? Probably barely even a peck.

You should’ve known that Loren was gonna get as much out of that single kiss as he could though.

With quick confirmation from you, Loren’s large rough hands took careful hold of your face. He already looked ruined from just touching you, though that may have been the post game sweat.

Time slowed briefly, and before you knew it you felt a heavy breath on your lips, where the star players hovered for a moment before finally pressing down.

It was soft at first. Gentle. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer amongst the screams and roars of the fans who watched in awe.

Some angry. Most charmed by the romantic display.

Though when Loren’s other hand slid to your lower back, and his foot inched forward to press further into you, causing you trip, the noises faded out again.

Because Loren didn’t stop kissing you. Even when you’d fallen and your mouth popped open to gasp slightly, and his arms caught your head and cradled it tenderly and possessively, he continued to kiss you. Deeply, passionately, and above all else desperately.

What was supposed to be a pretty and simple kiss quickly turned into a make out, Loren’s hands groping at varying parts of your body but never breaking away. Your hands subsequently finding themselves tangled in his spiky soft hair.

At the sound of a low groan pouring from Loren’s lips you snapped out of it and pushed him away, though he resisted for a moment before remembering where he was.

Lifting himself up, he didn’t appear the least bit embarrassed by the public display as he hovered over you on the dewey grass field.

He looked almost frustrated at the interruption if anything.

The sky was dark above him, and the faint artificial lights glowed around you in his eyes. Though you could’ve argued similarly.

He almost looked angelic. If it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes and the odd firmness on your thigh.

Your embarrassment reached its peak when the coach blew his whistle at the two of you.

“Alright Ortega quite snoggin and get your puebescent ass over here! We still gotta wash up and go over the game! ”

Fuck you wanted to crawl in a hole and die so badly. At least your team won the game right?

It was best you didn’t know the only reason they had been losing in the first place was because a certain wonder boy was pouting over your previous rejection.

CRUSH (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

summary: wakatoshi has a crush.

word count: 720

warnings: fem!reader, its all just fluff

tags: @keiva1000

Ushijima knows he has fans. He might be simple-minded and a little oblivious, but he’s not stupid.

He knows girls stare at him from the balcony during practice. And he can hear their giggling when he passes them in the halls. Tendou often calls him Shiratorizawa’s Golden Boy, which Ushijima wholeheartedly disagrees with, but never voices out loud. Tendou often says strange things. He doesn’t mind.

Ushijima doesn’t understand his popularity. Sure, he is a good player. The best ace in the prefecture. But most of these girls have no understanding of volleyball. So why are they spending hours upon hours in the stands, watching him play?

“They’re not watching the match, Wakatoshi-kun. They are watching you.”

Hm. Strange. His play is very consistent. Watching him do the same thing over and over has to get boring, especially when they aren’t watching for the sake of the game.

But then he sees you for the first time.

You are in his third year English class. In his three years of high school, Ushijima is sure he has never seen you before. Because if he had, there was no way he would forget you.

He is curious. And a little enamored by you.

You are, by all means, a regular girl. You sit on the same chair every day, bring your own bento instead of eating from the cafeteria. It is always wrapped in a pretty multicolored patterned cloth, done up in a knot on top. You have a small stuffed cat chain on the zipper of your backpack. And you wear your hair differently every day. Some days it is tied up, some days it is let down. And some days it is half-up and half-down. You have one pink bunny hairclip that you wear maybe once every two or three days that Ushijima thinks is very cute. Your uniform is always immaculate.

There are so many tiny details about you that Ushijima has learned, and he finally understands why girls would stay hanging over the gym balcony to watch him for hours, because he could watch you for hours too.

You are very smart, he could tell. You always answer correctly when the teacher would call on you, and he has glimpsed at your notes. Simple, but neat and easy to understand, just the way he likes it. There are no crazy colors and highlighters, and your handwriting is neat and beautiful, just like the rest of you.

You are also quiet. You have a select group of friends that you talk to, and while you are nice to anyone who interacts with you, you don't go out of your way to stand out. Again, Ushijima loves that. It seems he loved everything about you. All the minor details that make you a little bit more unique to everyone else.

When you show up at his game, he nearly loses his focus.

It in’t an important game by any means, just a practice match with another local university team. So why are you here? Have your friends dragged you along? Or are you here by your own volition? Ushijima feels how sweaty his palms are when he clenches his fists, and it surprises him.

Is he….. nervous?

Why? Because you are watching? How ridiculous. Ushijima has never once doubted his own strength, or his ability to win. How could your presence alter that? The thought annoys him, and he is determined to prove that you being here would not be a hindrance to his play.

Turns out, he needn't have worried. It seems your presence had sharpened his senses more than ever. Shiratorizawa won in straight sets, and of the 50 points they scored, 39 had been from Ushijima’s hand.

“You were on fire today, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou comments as the final whistle rings. Ushijima unintentionally glances at you in the stands, cheering for the team. Cheering for him.

His heart is beating a mile a minute, and he doesn’t think it is because of the game he had just played. He hears Tendou let out a dreamy sigh.

“Ah, the miracles of having a crush.”

He feels his lips tick up in a tiny smile as he throws a towel over his shoulders. Tendou is wrong. Ushijima doesn’t think he has a crush.

He thinks he is in love.

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR’S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐸𝒴𝐸𝒮 — attractive things they do

info ⭑  includes: itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, oliver aiku, mikage reo, michael kaiser, yukimiya kenyu ﾉ suggestive bordering nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ all character written 19+  

₊˚ପ⊹ RIN guides you by your waist. when you’re playing around and purposely blocking his path, his arms stretch out to take a hold of you before effortlessly reversing your positions with the click of his tongue and an easy, lazy smirk. it’s also one of the few physical actions he’ll display in public, preferring it over holding hands or slinging an arm around your shoulders. he can see you this way, keep you in his sights. when you’re not paying any mind to your surroundings and nearly walk into traffic, he pulls you into him and gives you a squeeze, leaning down to whisper “be careful” against your skin. you jump at his touch and the feel of his breath tickling your ear, cheeks burning with the reminder of where his hands were roaming and exploring the night before.

₊˚ପ⊹ SHIDOU walks around the apartment in sweatpants that hang incredibly low on his hips. your focus shifts from the pot of water you’re waiting to boil to ryusei as he pads into the kitchen after finishing his shower. beads of water drip from his hair onto his bare chest and roll down his tanned skin until they reach his v-line. you don’t realize the water on the stove has come to a boil until shidou clears his throat, jerking his head at the stove. “you’re staring real hard, pretty,” he drawls with a lazy grin. it only takes a few strides for him to close the gap between the two of you. his hands grip the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place as fuchsia eyes filled with mischief stare down at your figure. “something more you wanna see?”

₊˚ପ⊹ OLIVER intently stares at your lips whenever you’re talking. to be fair, each conversation starts with his eyes on yours but they always happen to drift down to your mouth. he takes in their natural pout and the subtle shine that your chapstick leaves behind on them. eventually, his mind begins to wander. he thinks about how soft they would feel sucking hickeys onto the pulse of his neck and across his collarbone or wrapped around the head of his—"are you even listening?“ you ask with crossed arms, the corners of your lips turnings down in a frown. "of course i am,” he tells you, finally dragging his gaze up to your eyes. “i just hear you better this way, that’s all.”

₊˚ପ⊹ REO puts his hands over yours every time you reach for your wallet to pay. he can feel the way your fingers wriggle beneath his palm, but he ignores the movement, intertwining his fingers with yours while he pulls out his card and hands it to the cashier. he’s got more money to his name than he knows what to do with, so it only makes sense for him to spoil you. he might smile and breathe out a laugh when you slap his shoulder and frown, sulking about how you feel bad for spending all his money, but he hears you. if you really feel like paying him back, he can think of a couple of ways you could do so—some that are better suited taking place in the bedroom.

₊˚ପ⊹ KAISER tilts your chin up with his finger whenever you refuse to look at him. it shouldn’t surprise you, seeing him offer fans smiles and hugs, but you can’t help but think about it when the two of you are taking your leave. “are you seriously mad?” he asks from beside you, and it wouldn’t have upset you if he didn’t laugh like it was unreasonable. you scoff and roll your eyes but before you’re able to make it any closer to the door, you’re being tugged back. all too suddenly, kaiser is in front of you, his hooked finger angling your head up and forcing you to meet his azure gaze. “you know i only have eyes for you, right?” he murmurs, like his words are meant for you and you alone. he’ll show you that his statement holds true when you get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ YUKIMIYA uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe away his sweat. on the occasion that you accompany him to a weekend practice or individual workout, you tend to look out for it. after the intense training when he’s cooling down, you watch attentively as he drags the hem of his shirt across his upper lip to collect the beads of perspiration. the motion leaves his abdomen exposed, putting the defined lines of his abs and the trail of dark hair peeking out from his shorts on display. your staring isn’t as discreet as you think it is but yukimiya doesn’t mind it. even after he catches you gawking, he keeps his shirt pulled up so as to not interrupt your view. when finally do look up at him, he’s peering at you over his glasses, tongue running along his lower lip.

hey! it's manon :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

trick or treat!!! can i get something for solomon, maybe doing some halloween traditions with reader? could be platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer lol. thank you and happy halloween!! 👻🍬

note: this takes place during the nightbringer timeline. don't ever assume i won't JUMP at the chance to write solomon playing househusband (said in jest)

"should i enchant these? i can have them scream at anyone who approaches the porch. we'll save a fortune on our candy budget."

you chide solomon loudly, and he lets out a devious little giggle in response. his cape flutters behind him as you urge him back inside-- the last thing you need is to start rumors about cocytus hall while you're still stuck living there.

"alright," he starts up again once you're safely inside. "that's pumpkin carving and our final decorations finished."

"... and that's after i made the treats for that halloween party this weekend."

"why couldn't i help with that again? it looked like a lot of fun."

"i needed you to buy candy for the trick-or-treaters, remember? it was a very important task, and i was right to trust you! you did so well." you sell your excuse with a smile. solomon's cheeks grow rosy at your praise, and he smiles right back at you.

"i suppose i like when i you trust me so much." he begins to mumble to himself as his mind wanders. "the costumes are ready upstairs for later this week... yeah, i think that's everything."

"i can't think of anything else," you agree.

"so..."

"so?"

"what now?"

"did you have something in mind?"

solomon's grin sharpens the tiniest bit as he takes your face into his lukewarm palms. "i'm sure we could entertain ourselves accordingly. like, maybe--"

"-- watching scary movies and snuggling on the couch?" whatever flirtatious remark he had waiting for you dies on his tongue at your suggestion. he seems pleased, though-- his cheeks flush at your boldness.

"that's... nice, actually. i'd like that." a grin. "feel free to hold on to me if you get scared, though."

your eyes narrow suspiciously. "if i do, you'll use that as an excuse to scare me more often."

"maybe so. just think of it as another halloween tradition to add to the list."

"ugh. i don't want to watch a movie with you anymore," you groan, spinning on your heel to playfully scurry off so solomon'll chase after you.

"wait! mc! i was just kidding!"

HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 1.4K

series masterlist: 1/?

It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.

Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.

Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.

Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.

But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.

Until—

“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.

At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.

The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.

Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.

You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.

“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.

To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.

True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.

Helped? Helped?

The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.

Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.

It was mortifying. And exhilarating.

Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.

Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.

You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.

Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.

Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.

He hums, “You have”.

Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.

“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.

Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—

He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.

Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”

Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.

“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.

“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.

You squeeze back, “You did?”

Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.

You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”

“But I didn’t do anything”.

A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.

There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.

“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.

“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”

“You can,” you laugh softly.

Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.

“What?”

Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.