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loves124 · 2 years

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𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's not expected of the head cheerleader to go to the run-down bar to watch eddie munsons' band. but it's also not expected of the two of you to ever meet. and what can eddie do, ignore his number one fan?

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, smut, blow jobs, messy make-outs, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, teasing, cum eating, unprotected piv, Eddie kind of having a corruption kink but when does he never

Friday nights. That’s when they play. Leather jackets, smudged eyeliner, voices all yelling in harmony as they play for their usuals, you included. Sometimes they were a bit off beat, or just completely forgot the lyrics, but it didn’t stop you from coming back every week, soda in hand as you giggled at their funny antics before and after the show.

And you’d also be lying to yourself if you thought that the only reason you were coming was because of their little jokes. Because deep down you knew that the lead guitarist had caught your eye ever since you first saw him.

You couldn’t lie, Eddie Munson was just irresistible.

And yes, by your school, (and society’s) standard, Eddie Munson was supposed to be untouchable, and not in a good way. You were supposed to avoid him like the plague, pretend like his sort never existed, and get along with your day. He was satanic, or so your mother would say as she angrily chopped her vegetables, and was the leader of your highschools so-called “cult”.

You called bull, but you knew it would take a lot more than logical thinking to convince the town of Hawkins that the Hellfire Club didn’t exactly keep true to its name.

So after a lucky mistake, you found yourself searching for cheap food and stumbled across the mangy bar, not expecting to find your school's most decorated student riffing on his electric guitar.

Unlike you, Eddie could still recall that night almost like it happened yesterday. It was rather crowded, meaning that there were more than five people filling the empty seats as he introduced the band and what they were going to sing. His eye scanned the crowd, almost like they almost did, but they stopped, widening for a second in recognition.

“This song's a cover from the one and only…” He trailed off, his hand wrapped around the microphone loosening when he saw you sitting in the crowd, Hawkins High’s golden girl, still in your cheer uniform from practice as he stammered, getting a hold of himself as he cleared his throat and mumbled out a quiet; “Black Sabbath.”

He thought that maybe you were here for a date, but you looked relatively cheery for being there by yourself, giving them encouraging claps whenever they’d start a new song, obviously enjoying your time as you munched on the complimentary chips.

Eddie thought it was strange, sure, but he figured that you came that night out of ennui. But you kept reappearing every Friday, getting familiar with the people as you stayed up to midnight to listen to them sing. He knew that while he tried to convince himself that this band was going places, he knew that they weren’t professional or all that good; so you must have been really bored to come here in your free time.

For him, it was definitely new. Out of all people to keep coming back to their shows, he never would have bet his money on you. You who always kept your shoes and clothing clean and painted your nails a light baby pink as you walked around school flashing everybody who passed you by a friendly smile.

It eventually became a standard for you to go, though, feeling almost as if it were rude had you been a no-show. Clad in that green skirt, your cheer logo stamped on the jacket as you walked through the door, giving the woman behind the counter a grin as she waved to you.

“May I have a diet coke?” You ask, leaning over the counter as you tap your shoes on the floor in a little beat, “Please?”

“F’course,” She gave you a kind wink as she slid it over, the drink already prepared because, at this point, everybody knew that you were coming and what you liked to order.

“Thanks Suz,” You pay, pulling out a straw from the holder as you make your way over to your regular spot, drinking a little bit to quench your thirst. You looked around, noting that it was emptier than usual, but maybe this Friday people just weren’t up for metal music and room-temperature beer.

But the more closely you looked, the more confused you got. The stage was empty, which wasn’t unusual, but none of their usual pieces of equipment were up there, instead replaced by a lone maraca resting on a stool. And you were sure that the last time you checked, none of the four members used that instrument.

Your forehead wrinkled in bewilderment,

“Hey, Suz?” You called out as you turned in your seat, looking over to see him cleaning out a cup, “Are they playing tonight?”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused as her gaze fell to something behind you, giving you a knowing grin, jutting her chin to something behind you as she went back to cleaning her cup.

“Sorry, but,” You perked in your seat at the familiar voice, glancing back to see Eddie Munson standing right there, hovering over the seat next to you as he gave you an apologetic look, “Gareth’s got carpal tunnel at the moment. Can’t really work any magic on the drums when the hand holding the wand is immobile.”

Your eyes widen for a second, mouth running dry as if the weeks of preparing yourself to just talk to him had fallen short on you. He leaned against your little table, staring at you through furrowed grows as you gaped up at him.

“Oh…” You swallowed, rubbing nervously at your nose as you gave him an awkward chuckle, “Well, that um, that - that sucks.” And you watch as Eddie grins boyishly at your stammering, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Tell me about it.”

You feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the silly little crush that was growing on the boy surely about to be the death of you as you try to adjust yourself to look less gauche. It was stupid, really, just how minuscule you felt under his gaze, and even when he’d walk by you could feel your body heat up. You watched through nervous eyes as he silently motions to the empty seat next to you, a quiet question as you slowly nod.

“Fortunately, Per said he’d fill in on the, uh…” He motioned his hands to the maracas, “Cha-cha instruments.” A small giggle falls past your lips as you snort into your drink, some of the soda splashing on your cheeks as Eddie grins in triumph.

“Per?”

“Yeah, well, his name’s Casper but…” He shrugged, his nose wrinkling, “I can’t say that name without thinking of Casper the friendly ghost.” And your already contagious smile grows as you lean a bit on the table, your hand rubbing at the little beads of water falling down the sides of your drink.

He stared at you for while you took another tentative sip, your fingers drumming on the table as you rubbed at your nose. Yeah, he thought, you were really pretty up close.

“So…” You bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say, your leg bouncing up and down as you looked up at him, “When do you think you’ll be able to play?”

Eddie couldn’t help but feel his lips tilt upwards at your genuine curiosity, pursing his lips as he tried to think.

“A week, maybe two. Don’t sweat on it, Gareth’s got abnormal healing time.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile. You glance away as you twirl the straw around in your drink, the afternoon sun lighting up your features as Eddie stares at you, unknowingly. He couldn't help it. He thought you’d be off-put by him, giving him a short answer as you slowly pretended like he didn’t exist, but he wasn’t prepared to be bombarded with the same treatment you give everybody else.

“What about you?” He sits up in his seat at the question as you take another sip, looking him in the eyes as you wait for an answer.

“What about me?” He says through a little laugh, tilting his head to the side as you duck your chin down in embarrassment, heat flooding your cheeks under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Your fingers,” You muttered as you pointed to his hand, “Don’t they hurt? With playing the guitar and all?”

He looked down at his fingertips, the little indents from the guitar strings still there even after days of not playing, but he waves it off.

“Soak them in ice-cold water right afterward and don’t feel a thing,” He pauses, scratching his chin, “Might be because my fingers go numb from the cold, but it works.” You laugh again, the sound sweet and soft as a bell as your eyes wrinkle around the edges, your cheeks pulled up in the fullest way and he can’t help but understand why everybody at the school loved you so much.

“Y/n.” You say, sticking out your hand, your palm facing the left as you sit up a bit straighter in your seat. Eddie huffs, his hand grasping yours as shakes it lightly, his fingers lingering on the back of your hand.

“Eddie.” He mirrors and you give him a sheepish smile, embarrassed as you nod.

“I know. I’ve been coming here, and it’s-” You swallowed as your fingers fiddled with each other, “It’s hard to miss your name.”

Eddie contains a grin, cocking a brow at you as he interlaces his hands together, leaning back in his seat as he rubs at the corner of his eyes, the little dimples on the sides of his face about to make an appearance as you wait for him to say anything.

“Yeah,” He shakes his head in disbelief as he lets out another chuckle, “Yeah it’s kinda hard to believe that if I’m being totally honest.”

Your little smile falls as concern fills in.

“Hard to…believe?”

He nods, his curls bouncing as he tucks some of his loose hair behind his ear, fidgeting with some of his rings as he clicks his tongue, leaning into the table as you nervously sip on your drink.

“Well, the golden girl of Hawkins High just never really struck me as the type of person to…enjoy metal music, with the, y’know…” Eddie explains as he imitated pom-poms and you roll your eyes as you twirled the ice around, watching as the bubbles of carbonation rose to the top and popped.

“You guys do play a lot of Ozzy for die-hard metal fans. I’d prefer a bit of Pantera or Anthrax but,” You shrugged, never breaking eye contact as you take a sip, “I guess I’m just not into it as much as you are.”

Eddie almost choked on his spit, his eyes widening as you innocently looked up, a teasing smile on your face as you soaked in his reaction. Fuck, he was a total goner now. The biggest fool to underestimate just how much a grasp you could have on him in seconds because you knew his music. Knew it well enough that he could barely think of a witty comeback that could save him from this embarrassment. And you were easily using that as leverage against him.

He hated how he thought that maybe he could twist you over, see just what you were up to because surely you couldn’t be coming to their gigs out of enjoyment. But maybe he was being small-minded, and maybe that small-mindedness was coming back to bite him.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He rubbed at his chin, perplexed by you who was sitting right there in front of him.

“I like keeping people on their toes.”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as your hands fiddled with the delicate necklace you wore, moving the pendant around as Eddie tried his best to keep his eyes glued onto your face. But he felt as though you were teasing, maybe even testing him as his gaze dropped a bit, his eyes glazing over as you smirked consciously.

“Wanna see it?” He asks suddenly, and your brows instantly furrow in confusion. Eddie seemed to have been snapped out of his trance, happy to know that he caught you off-guard with his question.

“See what, Munson?” Though it could have been a genuine question, heat crawled up his neck as you used his last name, something ne never realized could sound so sweet falling off your tongue, and it took him an embarrassing couple of seconds to remember what the original question even was.

He stammered, and you tilted your head to the side, worried for him as he cracked his fingers, “The vessel that carries sound to showcase all that is good and holy with the world.” And damn you were fast to figure out what he meant because you waved off his exaggerated speech with a hand, your fingers grazing him as your shoulder shook with laughter.

“You mean your guitar?”

“Sure, if that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

Rolling your eyes you let out another giggle, ducking your head as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt, never expecting your little interaction with Eddie to go this far as he sat there waiting for your answer.

“Depends. Where is she?” Eddie smiles at your wording.

“This place is very accommodating to its attendees. She’s still in the backroom.” You purse your lips, your eyes giving away your pure excitement as you shrug unbiasedly, but Eddie could tell that you had already given in to his offer.

“Show the way,” You say, standing up from your seat as you pass Suz your empty cup, pulling at your skirt and uniform as you wait for him, “Rockstar.”

Eddie quietly groans, his eyes shutting for a second as he covers it up with a lame cough, missing the way you smiled triumphantly to yourself. Eddie muttered a couple of things to Suz, throwing her a thumbs up as the old lady sighed, shaking her head as she went back to cleaning the cups.

You felt a lingering warmth on your back, tentative and unsure as Eddie looked down at you, his doe eyes almost worried that you’d quickly change your mind and leave. But you just looked back up at him, almost defiantly as you squirm around, impatient as you wait for him to show the way.

“This way,” He jutted his chin towards one of the back doors, maneuvering around the sea of chairs and tables as he trailed a bit in front of you, opening the door with a happy little grin, seeing that they still hadn’t locked it yet.

You followed him down a small halfway, stopping at another door as he jiggled the knob around, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Partially because he knew his guitar was in there and didn’t want to go through the trouble of breaking down another door to get it.

The room was cramped, with a tiny little couch up against one wall, a mirror, and a chair facing you as you looked around in curiosity. You saw Eddie head for a black case resting on the couch, and you quietly shut the door behind you, a little bit awkward as you wondered to yourself what you were doing.

“There she is…” Eddie murmured to himself, gently taking his guitar out while he proudly showed it off, his hands gentle as he watched your face break into a big grin. You walked over, crouching down by the couch to get a closer look.

“Holy shit,” Your fingers hovered over the gloss, careful not to touch it as you looked at him in approval, “Warlock. You’ve got taste, Munson.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed his throat in a grip because how could he talk to you now? Knowing that you could dominate over every single field and he’d probably have zero knowledge in comparison to you.

“Y-yeah, you could say that. Either that or I just hate my savings.” You giggle, shaking your head as you sit back down, careful that your skirt didn’t move that much as your palm ran over the carpet.

“You’re dedicated.” You correct him and Eddie gives you a goofy smile, putting his hair behind his shoulder as he stares at his guitar and then back to you. There was a beat of silence, and you tapped your shoe on the ground, debating on whether or not to tell him something that had been weighing on your mind.

“I have a question.”

Eddie cocks a brow, stopping as he was mid-putting his guitar back in the case as he looks down with interest.

“Shoot.”

“Are you self-taught? Private instructor? Anybody who’s helped you out?” You ask, stammering out as you nervously play with your fingers, bending them back and forward as Eddie huffs out another laugh.

“Self-taught,” His head tilts to the left as a ghost of a smile lingers on his lips, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, pouting a bit as you sit on your calves, now in front of him as you glance shyly at his guitar.

“I’ve been interested, and I don’t really know anybody who can play.” You explain your voice dying off in the end as Eddie just stares, his hands twitching as he squints his eyes at you.

“There’s a guitar club at school, y’know.” You wave that off, shaking your head in frustration because you’ve already gone back and forth on that very idea. It just didn’t play out well in your mind, joining this late in the year.

“Who can play well.”

Even you could now see the bright blush that overtakes his face, he moves his hand to his mouth, rubbing at his chin to keep himself from looking like a total fool as you look up hopefully at him.

“If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working very well.” He muttered, moving his guitar so that it lay over his lap. He motions for you to move up a bit, and you oblige, standing up as he tries to make room for the two of you on the small couch.

“Yeah?” It felt like the words were sticking to the back of your throat, caught on your tongue as Eddie nodded slowly, eyes darkening as you swallowed thickly. The air was getting hotter and you felt like you could barely breathe.

“Yeah,” He muttered, his voice as dim as yours moving around in his seat feeling little beads of sweat roll down his neck.

This was really bad, he told himself over and over as a reminder, you were untouchable.

But maybe you didn’t seem to wholeheartedly agree with that ideology.

“Eddie?”

“...yeah?” He loathed how his eyes kept falling down to your lips as if he couldn’t make his feelings any more obvious. You grinned a bit, trying to contain it as you hitched your leg up onto the cushion, your knees touching as Eddie felt his heart lurch around in his chest.

“How far does that flattery go?” He could feel your little puffs of air hitting his cheek, and he just realized how close the two of you were. This wasn’t happening, there was no way he was sitting with the queen of Hawkins High.

“Far.”

It was comically quick how quickly the two of you advanced, his hands almost moving fast than the speed of light to tug you closer into his chest as if the two of you weren’t close enough. It’s much more different than what the two of you are used to. He liked going fast, to feel your teeth clashing with one another as the two of you begin to run out of air, and the feeling is something that simply encourages him.

He could taste the chapstick that lingered on your lips, artificially sweet as they always were, but he still moaned helplessly into the kiss because he just couldn’t get enough of it.

Everything about him was driving you crazy; from the way he carefully held your thigh, to his hand smoothing down your skirt from where it had gotten flipped over. He had a cologne wrapped around his neck, and the more you moved onto his lap the more the scent flooded your senses.

Your hand moved up to his chest, wrapping around his leather jacket for leverage as you slowly pulled away, not missing how his eyes fell for a second in trepidation, worried that he was being too rough and that he’d pushed you away.

But much to his relief you gave him a small smile, your other hand coming up to his neck, fiddling with the curls of hair as you leaned down just enough so that your noses brushed up against each other.

“You alright? Too much?” He murmured gently into the skin of your jaw, his lips brushing against your cheek as you shivered in his hold, weakly nodding as you tried to regain some of your dignity.

“N-no, just fine.” And you knew you were lying to yourself because it wasn’t just fine. You could swear you’ve never been kissed like that ever before. Held so close to somebody this tenderly as if he actually wanted you there.

And before he could even continue you swooped in, some of that confidence from earlier coming into play as Eddie groaned into your lips, biting and nipping at them as they traveled down his jaw to the upper side of his neck, swollen as they attached to his pulse. His hands clenched as you sucked, licking at the spot every now and then as you made your mark on him.

He was a fucking goner.

“S-shit, that’s,” His breathing was coming out choppy, and he threw his head back to give you more space, “That’s fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.” The little pet name fell from his mouth, accidental in nature, but it still managed to give you little butterflies as you smiled a little to yourself.

Your hands mindlessly roamed his chest, ducking under his shirt as your nails grazed the skin of his stomach and you felt it clench underneath you, his uneven breaths cute as you giggled quietly.

His mouth fell open for a second as your fingers palmed at his growing length, his eyes shutting momentarily as he pawed it through the material of his jeans, acting like a total menace as you pressed your thumb deeper into it.

Eddie went to move, to tell you that you didn’t have to but you shook your head, tugging at his zippers as you glanced up at his beet-red face.

“It’s okay, Munson,” Your fingers tug at the elastic of his boxers, his eyes already giving away his true feelings even though he felt terrible for allowing you to do this, “It’s the least I could do as your number one fan.” You pull his underwear and pants down, his cock springing free as it hits your cheek. You press a quick kiss to the tip, red in color as you clench your thighs at the sheer size of him. Forgetting where you were, you go back to attending to his hard-on, your tongue running up and down his length, spreading the precum on your tongue as he gives up, his head falling back against the wall as he grips tightly at the cushion.

His hands moved on their own, gripping the back of your head as he looked at you, a silent question in his eyes as he asked you if this was okay. When you gave him a faint nod, grinning against his tip he let out another moan, guiding you to where he wanted your mouth.

Your tongue was so, so hot as it enveloped his cock, wrapping around it as you enveloped him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down with the help of his hand as a flurry of curses followed.

“F-fuck that’s, that’s amazing sweetheart. You’re taking me so well, shit,” He groaned as you suctioned around him, his head almost hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to spring to your eyes as he cooed at your reaction, “You’re fucking amazing, yeah? S-shit, never felt this good before, god. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep d-doing that,” He’s trembling, his thighs shaking as you grip onto them for support. His hands curl around your scalp ever so gently to make sure he doesn't hurt you in the process.

His eyes glance over to the door, widening when he realized you two had forgotten to lock it, and the sheer thought that somebody could walk in on him fucking your throat sent him into a whining mess.

“Shit, it’s not even locked,” You don’t bother to care as your hands' pump and down the places your mouth couldn’t attend to, the extra stimulation causing him to see white, “But you want that, huh? Want people to see you getting wrecked? That your makeup’s getting all ruined because you’re my number one fan?” His words make you whine a bit, “S-shit, sweetheart, they’d never guess to see their golden girl on her knees, would they?” The thought of anybody just walking in on your tear-soaked face, eyeliner smudged as it trekked down your cheeks made you moan against him, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge as he spurts all over your tongue, his eye squeezing shut as a low groan escapes his lips.

“D-damn…” His chest heaved up and down, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he tugs you back up onto his chest, his fingers delicately running up and down the expanse of your arms as he pecks your lips, his thumb swiping at your cheeks to get rid of the tears, “You’re just as much of a freak as I am, huh?” It wasn’t a question so much because the way you smiled against him told him all he needed to know.

“I’m just a very devoted fan, Munson.” You reason with him and he lets out a weary chuckle, his hands roaming up and down your back, flying under your uniform as they travel up your navel. You whine slightly when his calloused fingers find your bra, tugging it down as they flicked your little nubs, smiling at him as you go limp in his hold.

“Don’t think it’s really fair that I’m basically naked while you’re all clothed up, hm?” He asks, his brows furrowing in mock annoyance, “And as much as I love your little uniform, believe me, I do, can I get this off of you? Please?” His weariness to approach just made you even more desperate, and you dimly nod as you let him slowly remove your top, his hands skimming your sides as you let out an airy giggle at the feeling.

“Sorry,” He whispers, smiling slyly against your lips as his fingers graze the same spot in a faster manner, “Didn’t know you were ticklish.” You shake your head as you let out another laugh, too focused on how he was making you feel, inside and out, to realize he had unclasped your bra in a single flick. However, what you couldn’t miss was how he tensed up a bit, his eyes dropping as his hands cupped your tits, groaning at how soft they felt against his rough skin.

“Can you sit up a bit sweetheart?” His hands moved under your thighs, tugging at the hem of your skirt as he looked at you with those damn eyes, and you nodded again, your words catching in your throat as you struggled to find something to say to him.

“Y-yeah, here…” You stammered, helping him move the flimsy material off your leg as you tossed it off somewhere to the side. His hand traveled up to cup your ass, squeezing it as you squealed, his curls tickling your bare chest as you fell deeper into his embrace, somewhat aware of how he was careful to take your panties off. You couldn’t see what he was doing but you melted when you saw him place the now-folded clothing somewhere where it wouldn’t get soiled.

“Don’t know why I waited s-so long.” You breathed out, your huff hitting his neck as he shivered, pulling away to look up at you to see your expression.

“So long for what sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, coming up to straddle your hips as you squirmed around on his dick, the two of you groaning slightly at the feeling, almost forgetting to answer him as he rubbed against your swollen clit.

“To just talk to you, Eddie, to do this…fuck,” And the way you muttered his name, coaxing it out of your honeyed mouth made him almost go feral. Alongside the way you were grinding on him, he felt like he was slowly losing his mind.

“Don’t know either,” He kissed your neck, his wet lips trailing down to the crevice of your collarbone, his nose rubbing against your soft skin still scented with your perfume as the smell infiltrated his senses, “Seems weird coming from my number one fan, no? Where’s the devotion, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, laughing as your head tilts back, the sound so genuine and pure that Eddie can’t help but feel his lips tug upwards to a gentle smile.

“You’re shameless Munson. Downright shameless.”

“D’you want me to stop then?” His fingers pinched your nipple, tugging on it as you wrung your eyes shut.

“N-no, don’t…just,” Your face heated up in embarrassment as he laughed again, his hand trailing down your stomach to find our mound as you sighed out in relief, the final gratitude you had been waiting for awarded as his thumb found your clit,” Y-yeah, perfect.”

Eddie laughed, dragging his thumb up and down your bundle of nerves, flicking it back and forth as your head fell into the crook of his neck, sweat lining your forehead and lips as you sucked onto his skin, not wanting him to hear your wanton moans as his finger rubbed against your slick entrance. He prodded at the skin of your inner thigh, teasing and testing the waters as he looked up for your approval. You gave him a small nod, your breath hitching as his cold rings dragged up the burning sensation of your pussy, something you longed for him to do again even though the first time was a total accident.

“You’re so wet, f-fuck,” He muttered, eyes in a trance as he watched his fingers disappear inside your pussy, groaning instantly at the way you clamped down needily on him, his fingers coming out glistening each time he went back to pump them in, “And so tight, fuck, let me know if it hurts, yeah sweetheart?” You nod limply against him, your hands cradling his neck, afraid to let go and become a total mess as he finger fucked you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, your hot lips pressing up against him, your hands playing and tugging on his curls as he huffed out a groan, “Fuck, f-faster Eddie, it feels so g-good, mm!” Your eyes snap open when he adds another finger, his thumb still on your clit as you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Shhh,” He said, clamping his free hand over his mouth as you rid his hand, his palm glistening with your essence as he kisses your forehead the act too innocent and sweet for the way he was ruining you, “Don’t want others to hear…do you?” He tilted his head, his answer rhetorical as you shook your head, not even knowing what you really wanted, “Or maybe you do…want people to hear the way you’re being absolutely fucking ruined, yeah? To see their little cheerleader soaked?”

He adds in his third finger, stretching you out, his motions never seizing and you feel like you're about to burst all on his hand when he stops. Your eyes snap open, whining as your climax dies down, and Eddie can only offer you a grin as he carefully slides you off of him, falling to the food as he lets you get comfortable on the couch as he lewdly spreads your legs open for him, his eyes darkening as he takes in your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” He moaned, whining as he glances up at you, “You’re so fucking pretty.” And it really shouldn’t make you heat up in the way that it did after everything he’s done to you, but you can’t help the warmth that quickly spreads through your chest.

He kisses your thighs, all the way up to your pulsing cunt as he smiles against your clit, giving little licks to the nub as your legs shake in his vice grip.

“F-fuck, Munson, h-holy shit…” You can barely speak as he continues, replacing his mouth with his finger as his tongue moves down to your pussy, his nose nudging at your folds as your words edge him on.

You move against his face, your wetness staining his lips and chin as you grind up and down, his tongue working at a faster pace than your hips can go as you tug his head even impossibly closer to your heat, guiding him where you wanted him most as he kneads the meat of your thigh.

His tongue is so skilled, his finger working on your clit as your climax quickly approaches and it’s not long until your back is arching on the sofa, your eyes squeezed shut as you see white, gushing all over his pretty face as your chest heaves with labored breaths.

When he pulls away you can see the sick that lines his face, glowing in the dim light of the room as you sling your arm over your face in embarrassment, groaning as he laughed, pulling himself up by the arm of the couch as he pecks your lips, his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks as he tries to coax you to let him see you.

“There you go,” He murmurs, fingers hovering over your cheekbones as he sees your fucked out and embarrassed smile, “Prettiest eyes in the goddamn world.” You turn your head to the side, swatting at his chest as he laughs along to your adorable reaction.

“You’re a lot of bark no bite,” You whisper, turning back so that you were facing him, your fingers trailing around his chin and jaw, pulling him closer as you kiss him, biting down on his swollen lip as he grunts in surprise, smiling as you run your hands along his back and up to his neck.

“Really?”

You would have argued with him that he was, that he liked seeing you flustered but did nothing about it but he never let you because he pushed himself into you in one thrust, the size of him making you choke on your words.

“F-fuck!” Your nails dig into his shoulder, and he hisses at the way you clamp down on him, “E-Eddie! S’big, f-fuck, you’re so big,” You wail, whining as his head falls into your shoulder, kissing your neck in his own form of an apology as his hands steady themselves on your hips.

“No bite, remember?” He murmurs and you would have pushed him at the audacity, but you could barely move as he slowly began to pull out of you, his tip still feeling your flutter around him as he pushes back in, your head thumping against the wall as he holds you tightly to him, moving you up and down on his dick as he pleased.

“S’tight, f-fuck, you’re m-milinkg me right now,” He groaned as he felt your heat wrap around him, the sinful smell of both sweat and sex swirling around your intertwined bodies as he got high off of it all.

His eyes rolled back into his skull in immediate pleasure as your nails left angry marks down his back, your walls fluttering beautifully around him as he continued to fuck you, rough but gentle in a way as he moved one of his hands up to the back of your head so that it didn’t hit the wall.

“Eds, please, please, hmmm…” You whined as he quickened his pace, his cock twitching inside of you as his brow lined with sweat. He watched as he disappeared back inside of you with every thrust, your slick staining his dick as he moaned at the sight.

“Shit, shit, you’re so fucking hot right now, I’m, oh my fucking god - you’re so tight…” His hands aggressively groped your breasts, and the two of you could feel how he stuttered, his hips faltering as he was getting closer and closer to his edge. And with the way you could barely let go of him, your hand trailing down your stomach to circle at your clit, you could feel your seconds release creeping up on you.

“Eddie! E-Eddie holy fuck, d-don’t stop, please! I’m going to - I’m going to c-cum oh fuck…” And you trialed off as the words slurred, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hanging open as your tongue rolled out, all of it rolling off of you as Eddie pulled out, coming all over your naked chest with a loud groan, falling onto you as the two of you tried to catch your breaths.

Your hand finds its way into his mess of curls, pulling them out of his face as you lean down, cupping his cheeks as you sloppily kiss him, overcome with a mix of euphoria and emotions as he chuckles into it.

You giggle as he pecks your lips once again, pulling back as he flicks your forehead, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he tries to pull his boxers up before he gets another hard-on by just staring at your tits.

“Can’t feel my dick right now.” He murmurs as he steadies himself, not missing how you snorted as he ruined the tender moment. He went to stand up before he momentarily behinds over, kissing your forehead as he smiths out your tears, kissing the corner of your eyes as he looks around the room for your clothes.

He finds your skirt and then your uniform, his nose wrinkling as he touched the scratchy material, feeling bad that this is what you’d have to wear after he just fucked you.

“Wait…” He turned around, going to the little closet in the back room, opening it up as he rummaged around old leather jackets and ripped jeans, his eyes widening in happiness as he found a comfortable enough looking shirt, (surely more comfortable than whatever that was).

He turned around to see you already tugging your panties and skirt back up, and he held up his finding, his face gleaming with pride as he waited for you to look up. When you finally did your eyes narrowed in confusion, mid-putting your bra on as your head tilted to the side as he wiggled the shirt around by the hanger.

“This looks a bit more comfier than your uniform, no?” He says, now nervous that he had taken a step too far into whatever had just happened, his smiling dropping as his hand fell, going to put it back, his mouth opening in an already forming apology before you ran over to him, taking the shirt into your hands as you grinned up innocently at him.

“You’re such a saint,” You take it from him, setting the hanger back in the closet as you tug the old band shirt over your chest, nodding as you smile contently. This was definitely better than your uniform, “Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie stammers, nodding his head as he mutters out a quiet no problem, not able to keep his eyes off of you as you try to tug your shoes back on.

“So…” Your hand's fiddle with each other, looking back to him as you give him an awkward smile, the air around you two heating up as his gaze follows the marks he sucked onto your skin, his bite marks, and everything that wasn’t covered up by the shirt and your skirt almost made him go feral again, “You still owe me a lesson.”

His brows furrow until he laughs, remembering just what started it all as he nods, tucking his hair behind his hair as he moves around something with the tip of his boot.

“Yeah, well, for my expertise, it’s gonna cost you, sweetheart. Can’t be giving away my tip secrets if I’m not getting rewarded for it.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you play with the hem of your skirt, suddenly away from how soft his eyes looked in the afternoon glow and that he had the most kissable lips you’d ever seen.

“Oh yeah…?” You laugh, your cheeks tugging up as he mirrors you, the distance between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller as each of you takes a tentative step forward, still new to whatever this was, but still yearning for more.

“Yeah,” He grinned, twirling his rings around as he shrugged, “Otherwise you’d just be robbing me blind.”

You smile like an idiot, standing on your toes, your hand cradling his cheek as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a reminder of what had just happened minutes ago as his hand curled to your back, not wanting to let you go even as you slowly pulled away.

“Think that would count as a downpayment?”

He pretends to think about it, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he slowly nods. His rings clink against each other as they rub against your flaming skin, working both to cool you down but also rile you back up.

“It’s a start.”

“I’ll take it, hellfire.” And he smiles against your lips at the nickname, kissing your cheeks and forehead as he wonders who he appeased that’s working up there to give him such a miracle, to have you the most sought-out girl in your high school to be giddily laughing away in his arms as though you two had known each other for long. You kiss his nose, going to pull away when a loud knock interrupts you, both of you freezing in your spots as your necks snap over to the door.

“Hey, uh - Eddie? Is that you, man? Listen, it’s Casper. My shows in a couple of minutes and I f-forgot my headband there. I told you how it’s my good luck charm, right? A-anyways, I really don’t want to interrupt your hanky-panky time, really. But bro, please, for the love of god, don't have your dick out when I come in."

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loves124 · 2 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛!

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson feels terrible that a sweet girl like you has such a terrible boyfriend. it'd be a real shame if he couldn't help you out.

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, smut, cheating, blow jobs, eddie eating the shit out of you, fingering, teasing, heavy make-outs, mentions of weed/smoking weed, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, eddie being a little bit possessive, corruption kink if you squint

Covered with ink, the smell of weed lingering in his hair, the Hellfire Club enthusiast could only leave so much to the mind's imagination. He liked to keep true to his name, to let people think their scandalous thoughts about him as he walked by, never asking because that would mean they were communicating with the sinner himself.

But Eddie Munson, alongside other things, was a fun person to hang around. He didn’t give a flying shit if the old ladies he passed by wrinkled their noses at his hair, or if people liked to gossip whether or not he made a deal with the devil. He was easy to talk to, comforting at times, and even caring if he truly tried hard.

With that, there were other things that only you could see. The little laugh he let out when you opened up your front door to him, shushing him as the two of you tiptoed to your room. Or the way he pressed a little kiss to your cheek before leaving out the back, waving farewell to you from your window as you suppressed the giddy smile that made its way to your face.

And it would be fine, really. Eddie could probably stay the night over, (maybe hide in your bathroom if your parents came up the stairs), but you two knew you could get away with it. And you could even stay over at his trailer if you wanted to, but both you and Eddie knew that there was one thing keeping you from spending the night tucked away in his arms.

It’s just that your boyfriend just wasn’t a big fan of Eddie Munson.

But you think that’s what spurs Eddie on even more.

Of being the sole person that everybody despises, of being able to defile you whenever he wants. Of being just too loud to raise suspicion, to have him look just around the corner and into your room to see you getting ruined by Eddie “the freak” Munson.

Sometimes Eddie likes to play with fire, to challenge the devil as he leaves dark marks just high enough on your chest and neck so that most of your clothing could just barely cover it, and most times you’d resort to having to conceal it with makeup.

Other times he’d like to write his name on the inside of your thigh, knowing that your pure and angelic boyfriend wouldn’t go looking down there anytime soon, but the thrill of your skirt being blown up by the spring winds and revealing the sinister acts that lay upon your supple skin.

But what Eddie finds funny about the whole thing is that most of the time, you don’t even try to hide it. Your hickies are almost always peeking through the layer of makeup or your clothing as if you wanted people to see them. Or how you wore the shortest skirt you could possibly find in hopes of having it scrunch up by accident, leaving people wandering eyes to zero in on the black marker lining your thighs.

Something Eddie noticed about you was that you were a lot more sinister than you let on. Sure you went to school every day, acting as if you enjoyed it. And made the teachers happy with your grades and preppy attitude, but you were honestly a little minx that Eddie had never expected.

Last week, for example, Eddie almost choked on the water he was drinking when you strolled into the cafeteria, not looking his way, caught up in something that your boyfriend was saying as you gave him a fake little laugh. But Eddie could see how you peeked over at his table, a sly grin on your lips as you went to rub your neck, his rings littering your finger as his eyes widened ever so slightly. Even worse was that you were wearing his shirt, the one he left at your house over the weekend. All while your boyfriend had his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you protectively to his chest as if you were his girl.

So when he came by later that day, knocking on the door, twice, letting you know it was him as you ran past your parents to open it, you cracked it open to see him leaning on the frame, his hands behind his back, a sneaky smile on his face as you shielded him from your parents view.

“Eddie!” You hissed, watching him gleam at your annoyance at his lack of caution.

“What? Wanted to surprise you,” He whispers with a pout, eyes racking over your form as he lets out a low whistle, “Prettiest girl in the whole damn world.” And he knows exactly what to say to make you forget why you were mad at him.

It had been days without you two seeing each other like this, being so close that you could see his doe eyes watching you carefully, hoping that he wasn’t crossing the line showing up like this. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t. Because as lonely as he was without you, you could barely function properly these days spent without having him by your side.

You watch as he pulls out his hands and shows you a little bag, “Someone was selling these while I was driving by and thought you’d want some.” And your frown can’t stay there for long as he motions for you to pick a cherry, ripe as it was just the perfect time of year for them. You bashfully grin, obliging him as you grab the ruby-colored fruit, popping it in your mouth as he gave you a little wink.

You had no idea how he could remember the little things you told him alongside all the other things happening in his life. But he’d do little thighs like this; bring you food when you called him late at night, tapping on your window to let him in, remembering the little things you liked and bringing them up late in conversation. It just made you fall even more in love with him, and it was painful that at the end of the day none of it would matter.

“Y/n? Who is it?” You heard your mom call out, worried about your quick behavior change, peeking over to see who it was but you slammed the door shut. You quickly swallowed, spitting out the seed into your hand as you waved her worry off.

“It’s Chrissy! She wants to study for our test!” You paused, “Can I go with her?” And you knew your mother wouldn’t ever say no to you hanging out with Chrissy Cunnigham.

“Of course! Tell Laura I said hello!” And that’s all you needed as you said your haste goodbyes, sprinting out the door as you were stopped by long arms, his signature smell wafting around you as you giggled against his chest.

He held out the bag of cherries again, his eyes softening as you took another, nudging him with your shoulder as you smiled down into the ground.

“Trying to butter me up, Munson? I’m not going to suck you off while you drive, it’s a safety hazard.” You tell him with a raised brow as you chew, your lips tinting red.

“You know me so well Y/n,” He shakes his head, grinning to himself as he lets out a laugh, “But no, not today, pretty. Just thought you’d like it,” You roll your eyes, reaching for another one as you walk with Eddie to his van.

You were close enough to him that his hair tickled your nose, and his skin was hot as yours was he opened the car door for you with an exaggerated movement, causing you to laugh at his chivalry as he gave you a playful wink.

“Ladies first, sweetheart.” And you let go of his hand, letting him shut the door for you as he rounded the car, climbing in the driver's seat as the van roared to life. He placed the little bag of cherries in the middle, opening it towards you as you softened up at his little gesture.

You drummed your fingers on your thigh, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes as he caught your stare, giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you laughed, unable to control yourself around him.

“My rings, huh?” He asked as he turned the corner, glancing at your fingers that were still littered with his jewelry, a sort of brand he had on you that even your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend couldn’t ever achieve, “Little bit risqué don’t you think?”

“Thought you’d like it.” You answer coyly, reaching for his hand as you played with his fingers, tracing his palm as he let you, his cheeks dusted in light pink as he tore his eyes away from the road for a second to see you mindlessly toying with the skin of his arm.

“Yeah, more than liked it,” He grumbled as he remembered you fidgeting with his rings that day, tugging at the collar of his shirt as you sneakily put his little love bites on display, “Almost ran over there and fucked you on the table.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but it didn’t stop you from tugging at his fingers playfully.

“Everybody would have rioted,” You joke as you put his hand back down to his lap, not missing the sound he made at the back of his throat, the one that told you he didn’t want you to stop as you grinned, “Think my boyfriend would drop from a seizure.”

You pause, your lips pursing as silence floods between the two of you. You knew how he felt about your boyfriend, even though he never outwardly said it. Though glances shared in between periods, walking down the hall with you in his arms and the glares Eddie would shoot him didn’t leave much room for questioning.

“Want a cherry?” You ask, trying to break the tense air as you plucked one from the bag, twisting off the stem as you held it up for him.

He leaned to your side, eyes never leaving the road as he opened his mouth, letting you drop it on his tongue as he heard you let out a chuckle, rubbing his hand on the gearshift as he warmed up under your touch.

“Still think apples are better but … not bad,” He murmured, spitting out the seed into his hand, “Better not be though ‘cause that shit cost me a fucking arm and a leg. Roadside vendors just rob you blind.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, your smile dropping at his words.

“Eddie…” You say with a sigh, pulling out another cherry as you held it up to his mouth, his brows furrowing as he shrugged at your tone.

“What?” He opened his mouth for another and you obliged, “My girl likes cherries, so I bought her some cherries.” Your heart almost stopped as he spoke, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention to his words, nudging your elbow with his as he silently asked for another cherry.

My girl.

This whole arrangement was supposed to be a one-time thing. Your boyfriend refused to touch you, saying that he’d wait until the two of you were married. He’d go as far as a peck against your lips, but your hormones were raging and you doubted his little kiss was going to cut it for you.

Ever since you saw him, you knew that in some way or another Eddie Munson was going to be your savior. At first, you only talked when you wanted an escape, and he seemed to always have it ready in that little bin he carried around.

Smoking with him at first was unusual, seeing how you normally did it in the confines of the forest, hidden away from the naked eye. But you slowly warmed up to him, your mind betraying you as you began to realize that the so-called “freak” of the school was probably the sanest one out there.

Since then, lingering touches turned into experimental kisses, kisses turned into long hours spent in his trailer, and soon Eddie was fucking you on every surface he could find. Ranging from the back of his van, his bed, your bed, and the woods behind the school. And at first, you felt guilty, you did, but you couldn’t feel that way for long when Eddie made you feel the way you did.

You told him that it would never happen again, that this was a mistake and you should have never played into lust's temptation, but Eddie Munson managed to reel you back, and after a while, it seemed like you truly longed for his touch.

And the worst part is, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this way about anybody before.

Not even your boyfriend, who seemed intent on sharing a future with you. You can’t recall the last time somebody had made you laugh as much as Eddie had, or held you close to his chest as if you mattered. He liked to talk about things, never focusing on just himself when he told stories.

You knew that you had said it was only beneficiary, nothing else, no feeling attached. But glancing over at Eddie as he drove, his head somewhere else as he hummed a tune to a song he had heard on the radio, you felt yourself wanting to break your own rules.

So instead of dwelling on your warping feeling, the mind-numbing hope that maybe Eddie felt the same way you do, you opted to do something else. You looked out the window, staring at the flashing trees and the road as you saw the familiar sign that welcomed you into the trailer park, and he could see how you almost perked in your seat as he slowed down the van as he pulled up into his trailer.

“Home sweet home,” He muttered, leaning across from you as he dragged your door open, the action making you let out a playful giggle as you lightly pushed his shoulder, kissing his mess of hair as you hopped out.

Eddie raced you to the door, opening it for you as you gave him a little curtsy, earning a hearty chuckle from his end as he followed you inside, thankful that his uncle was away at the plant because he didn’t want him around for what would be following.

You had become familiar with the flower-printed walls of the trailer, the scent of his recently smoked blunt lingering in the air. The bra you had forgotten here last week was probably somewhere hidden under his bed and you kept kicking yourself for forgetting to bring it with you whenever you come over.

“So…” You clap your hands together, turning around to find Eddie already getting his boots off, shrugging off his leather coat as he placed it on the nook on the wall, “Do you want to- mph,” Before you could finish the question you felt your back being pushed roughly against the counter, quick fingers kneading at the skin of your hips as his nose nudged against yours.

“Needy much?” You ask, your sarcastic nature peeking through as Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands eagerly moved across your body. He could barely think straight after everything you had put him through, much less try to be patient.

“If I parade around in that black shirt you like so much all day, you tell me how needy you are.” He lamented, biting at your neck as your eyes widened, hands trailing up his back as they found purchase tugging at his hair.

He was right. You’d jump him when you had the chance.

“I just…” Your voice caught in the back of your throat when his lips pressed against the skin of your jaw, hot as they pressed little kisses along your skin, “I just thought it’d be a good idea.” You whimper slightly when Eddie presses you deeper into the counter, the wood digging into your back as he pushes more of his weight onto you.

“Yeah?” You could feel his breath against your cheek, heat flaming upwards as you looked up into his eyes, “That was your definition of a good idea?”

And honestly, you would have answered him back had he not leaned back down, his lips pressing feverishly against yours as you let out a surprised squeal. He was rough, your teeth clashing with one another as he tried to put his emotions into his actions, his hands coming up as they cradled the back of your neck, thumbs resting alongside your face as he tilted your head upwards.

He kissed you in that particular way you liked, the one that he knew made you go crazy. With his tongue swiping against yours, toying with you as he barely let you get a breather. He could still taste the cherries he had bought for you, making him moan into the kiss as you tugged at his roots. You were wearing that lipgloss he liked so much, too, which just seemed to make him go feral.

“Taste like fuckin heaven,” He teased as he pulled away, his soft eyes looking at your dazed ones as you shot him a lazy smile. His thumb rubbed at the corner of your mouth, trying to clean it off the smeared gloss. He stared at your swollen lips, at the way you followed his every move and his thumb slipped through the corner of your lips.

He went to pull away, his movements too slow and you too fast as your tongue swirled around it, never breaking eye contact with him as he whimpered, pressing his finger tight against the roof of your tongue, hearing your sweet little sounds following shortly after. He gently pulled your jaw down, your compliance making it easy for him to move you to his command. Seeing how the spit was pooling around his finger, he could feel his pants getting tighter at the sight.

“Shit,” He muttered, “You don’t h-have to…fuck,” Eddie could barely think as you let go of his thumb with a pop, his cock straining as your hands pawed at the zipper, your eyes wide, silently asking him if it was okay. He wanted to laugh if he could; as if he’d ever say no.

He nodded, his lips slightly shaking as he watched you fall to your knees, slow in your actions as you played with him a bit. You knew he liked it when you looked up, his pupils blown wide when your nose nudged at the bulge, a twinkling look in your eyes, knowing he was going to be wrecked in a couple of seconds.

He saw your hands moving gracefully, tugging at the zipper, undoing the buttons of his jeans, gingerly taking off his belt as his pants quickly pooled around his legs.

You could see the contour of his dick against his boxers, the little beads of precum that stained the fabric. You grinned, fingers moving as they softly traced the outline, hearing his shuddering breaths as you squeezed the tip.

“Y-you're killin’ me up here sweetheart.” He muttered, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he tried to smile.

“Be patient Eddie,” You giggled, pressing a little kiss to the precum forming, the salty taste familiar as you went to tug his briefs down. You watched as his dick sprang free, slapping you on the cheek as you let out a little moan, the size of him never fails to surprise you, “You’re so big - fuck Eddie.” He whines at your words, at the way your nails drag up and down the long vein that wrapped around his cock.

Eddie can’t wait anymore with your teasing, waiting days to do this as he grasps the back of your head, jutting his hips forward so that his dick pushes past your lips, a little groan escaping your throat as he keeps pushing himself deeper into your open mouth.

“Jesus fucking Christ - shit - just,” He shut his eyes for a second, trying to compose himself, “Just like that. You’re so… so good at this - shit,” He began moving after letting you get adjusted, your nose hitting his pelvis as it brushed against his little tufts of hair. You let him guide your head, let him set the pace as he let out the sweet little moans you cherished so much, “What would your boyfriend say if he knew - fuck - that his girlfriend was such a slut for my cock?” And even though you don’t answer, he knew how his words affected you.

When this whole thing started, he tried to be as gentle and caring as possible. You told him all about how your boyfriend would neglect you, leaving you to fend for yourself, and that you were shy and genuinely had no idea what you were doing.

So he’d coax you through it, tell you had to suck him off as you obediently listened to his every instruction. But now, after months of bending you to his will, Eddie couldn’t control himself when he was around you anymore.

“No one’s as good as you,” He stopped momentarily, shuddering as your tongue ran up and down his length, “Fuck, you take me so well…” And you did because Eddie taught you how. You hoped that after months of letting him fuck your throat you had picked up something, tricks that you knew made him go crazy.

And you could feel him shaking, his grips on your head weakening as his fingers tugged at your roots. He was getting close, but before you could feel him release down your throat he pulled away, your brows furrowing in confusion as you looked up at him.

“Thanks, sweetheart, but,” He murmured, his thumb rubbing at your lips, smiling as he went to collect a mixture of his pre and your spit, bringing it up to his mouth as he watched you clench your thighs at the sight, “Wanna finish with you tonight.”

Your chest was heaving, but you smiled, shakily standing up, feeling the sting of the carpet on your knees as you winced a little. Eddie cooed at your reaction, rubbing at your neck as he pressed a kiss to your lips, guiding you towards the direction of his bedroom as you followed him silently.

The familiar walls and smell of his room made you smile, a comfort you had been reaching out for in the last couple of weeks seeing that Eddie was busier with his campaign. Before you could look around too much he followed in, hands on your waist as he closed the door behind the two of you.

He didn’t want to waste any time as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his hands cradling your head so that it wouldn’t thump too harshly against the springs like it did last time and he smiled against your chin, almost forgetting where he was as you nudged his hips. He motioned for you to crawl on his lap, and you obliged, settling yourself so that you rubbed against his hardon, earning a little gasp whenever you tried to adjust yourself on his thighs.

“You are so gonna be the death of me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Munson.” He laughs, the sound vibrating against your chest as he plays with the little necklace you had worn, staring up at you as you carded your finger through his chocolate curls. He stares deeply, not wanting to ever forget that he has Hawkins High's golden girl straddling his lap, looking at him like he exists. It drives him insane and riddles his mind every night about how you could possibly come back to him whenever you do.

“So pretty…” He murmured, sucking at your neck as you shuffled around in his iron grip, your eyes squeezed shut as he moved to your collarbone, “You’re always so pretty.” He hopes you know he’s not just saying it to make you like him more because the way you look right now could make him lift the world if he really wanted to.

Your nose wrinkles and his heart drops, worried that he did something wrong, that his room smells too much for you, but your brows furrow in that cute way, your tongue poking out as you try to think of what was different.

“Is that a new shampoo?” You tug his head closer to your nose, your attitude different from the one you had seconds ago as he chuckles, his chest vibrating against yours as he nods in your hands as he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Mhm,” He kissed your collarbone as you were busy sniffing his hair, “It’s that one I kept telling you about, remember?”

You nod, hoping that he knows you remember almost everything about him. How you want to remember because you couldn’t ever forget the little snippets of his life he tells you about. You know how he likes his eggs, where he places each ring (because he has a system - he’s not an animal), and how every nook and cranny of his room is decorated with memorabilia he collected over the years.

“Of course I do, that green one, right?” You mutter, and he nods as you kiss the crown of his head, “It smells really good.” He beamed, rubbing at your back as his hands slipped up your shirt.

You felt him tug at the hem of your shirt, a little sign you had picked up on over the months as you helped him as you lifted your arms, your shirt quickly coming off as he never left your tits and the lacey bra you were wearing.

He swallowed dryly, the sound audible as you raised a brow at his reaction, your lips tugging up into a little grin as his hands moved up your back to find the clasps. When he finally got it after seconds of playing with it he was quick as he tugged the straps down your arm, tossing the bra to the side, surely another one lost to the many you had left in his room.

“You’re acting like you’re in middle school Eddie,” You tell him with a chuckle, poking his sides as he glances at you, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” And he shakes his head, his fingers playing with your nipples as your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. His rings drag against your skin, the temperature difference causing goosebumps to follow in their wake as your thighs clench at the feeling.

“Shut up,” He murmurs, flushing pink as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He rubs at the other one, not leaving it unattended as you, and you heat up in embarrassment as he flashes you a smirk, cupping them in his palms as he gives both of them a gentle kiss, “Let me have my moment.”

You groan, covering your face in your hands as he laughs against your soft skin, taking this opportunity to trail his fingers downwards, pulling at your shorts as he slowly rubs against your clothed mound.

“E-Eddie!” You squeal, squirming as he simply smiles, his thumb moving around to find your clit, your mouth falling slack as he continues to rub against it, the friction of the fabric causing you to squirm around in his hold, “P-please, oh…” You trail off when he quickened his pace.

“Please what?” His tone was taunting, the kind you hated because now you knew what he wanted, “‘M not going to give you anything if you don’t ask for it. Where're your manners, sweetheart?” You let out a little cry, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his other hands gingerly stroked your back in a comforting way.

“Eddie,” You whimpered against the column of his skin, searching for the spot that made him go weak, his breathing shuddering as you dragged your lips against it, “Please…god fuck, please touch me.” Eddie snorts, his hands stopping their movements as he raises his brow in questioning.

“Where?” His thumb presses up harshly against your swollen clit, dragging it down south as you whine again, “Here?” And you dumbly nod, not knowing if you had it in yourself to tell him what you want.

He didn’t have to be told twice as he hooked his fingers along the waistband of your panties, tugging them down as he flung them off into the abyss of his room. He could see how your chest was heaving with labored breaths, and he grinned inwardly knowing that nobody else would be able to see you like this.

He flattened you down on the bed, pushing down on your stomach as you followed his movements, watching as he stretched, flashing you a charming grin.

He pressed a little kiss to the inner corner of your thighs, each one closer to your awaiting cunt, his nose rubbing alongside your clit, giving it a little sniff as you groaned, your hands pawing at the bedsheets as he smiled against you.

“You’re such a perv, Eddie.” You mutter, turning your head to the side so that he couldn’t see your expression.

“Yeah, I know,” He chuckled, giving little kitten licks as you shuddered again, “But you like it, don’t you? Like knowing that I’m the only one that can touch you like this?” And you can’t answer him because you both know he’s right.

You can’t say anything as his tongues swirl against your folds, lapping up your essence as you moan, your cries growing louder and louder as he increases his movements. Everything he did was driving you towards the edge, especially when he looked up from between your thighs, smiling knowingly against your skin as he sucked loudly at your clit

“So wet - fuck,” He groans, his tongue moving past your entrance as he watches your eyes roll back, “Shit…and you taste so fucking good,” And the obscene sounds mixed with the way he swirls his tongue around your hole is enough to make you go crazy.

You knew he hadn’t been going at it for long but he was so skilled in knowing how to unravel you that you could already feel your thighs shaking, his grips on them tightening as he tried to hold you down. You carded your fingers through his hair, trying to move his head up and down the expanse of your cunt.

“Just like that,” He’d say, his tongue moving up to your clit as he pumped a finger in and out, his eyes shutting momentarily as he felt you clamp down on him, “S-sweetheart you’re so fucking tight. Even after all this time,” You let out unintelligible babble as he drew circles on the bundle of nerves, adding another finger as you cried out for him.

“Eddie! Fuck, s-shit,” Your words slurred together as he quicked his pace, feeling how you squeezed against his digits, “Don’t stop - umph!” You bit down at the back of your hand to muffle the scream you would have let out.

“God, Eddie, please, oh, just,” You cry out, “Faster, please!” And he obliges your change in nature from when he first met you only going south.

“Come on sweetheart, almost there,” He coaxed you through it, his fingers and tongue never letting up, “You’re doing fucking amazing, come on, cum, there you go…” You twitched around as your toes curled, white flashing before your eyes as you let out a scream, your climax washing over you as Eddie made sure not to waste a drop of your release, quick to lap it all as he sucked his fingers dry.

He grinned as he took in your wasted state; your legs spread wide open for him, pussy twitching from your orgasm, wet and shiny in the dim light of his room. He wanted to punch himself for forgetting to stock up on film to take a picture of this very moment.

“You look ruined.” He said teasingly, moving down as he balanced himself on his arms, pressed a sloppy kiss to your lips as you whined at the taste of yourself on him. He trailed down, sucking at your neck, just above your collarbone. He made sure to leave another mark for tonight, reveling in the way you’d groan at him, smacking him in the arm for not being conspicuous enough, but not even bothering to cover it up when the time came.

“Because of you,” You muttered weakly, stretching your legs wider so that he could situate himself more comfortably. His fingers kneaded at the meat of your thighs, running down your calves, and he winked as he caught your stare.

His hands grasped at your ankles, moving them up and to his shoulders as you winced a little bit at the uncomfortable stretch. He pressed a kiss to them, a small thank you for being so acquiescent.

Before he could continue you saw how he paused, his fingers still rubbing at your calves as he looked at the drawer next to his desk. You followed his gaze, your mind working fast as you tried to contain the little grin that graced your face when you tapped his shoulder, bringing his attention back to you.

“Don’t have to,” You whisper, your voice thick as his brows furrowed in confusion before you continued, “I’m on the pill.”

And he chokes a little bit, his eyes widening as you giggle at his reaction. The idea of doing it raw with you had been plaguing his mind ever since he first felt you wrap around him, wondering just how warm you were, and he could barely think straight when he thought about spilling in you, his cum overflowing from your pretty pussy as he marked you in the most intimate way possible. He was so lost in the little trance you had placed upon him that he could barely register your gentle touch as you rubbed at his cheeks.

“Y’hear me, Eds?” You asked, worried as he seemed like he went to his little world as his grip on you tightened just a bit. And he nodded, looking back to you as he leaned back down, his hands moving away from your legs as your ankles slid down, catching you in an unexpected kiss. It was feverish and crazy how he moved against you, wet and sloppy as he tried to make it fast but he couldn’t with the way you held his jaw in your hands, looking up at him softly as your eyes searched his.

“Y-yeah, heard you just fine, sweetheart.” He said through a grumble as he cleared his throat, pressing another peck to your forehead as he moved back down, readjusting himself to where he originally was as he rubbed at his ears glowing pink.

“Make me go crazy, seeing you like this,” Eddie murmurs as he aligns his tip with your entrance, groaning at the feeling as you stroke his arms, your finger trailing upwards as they push the hair out of his face, “You’re so fucking hot, y’know that, right?”

“Eddie please just,” You press your lips together as he quirks a brow, “God - please - just fuck me already!” He laughs at your outburst, evading the little punch you threw at his chest as he pressed a kiss up against your knuckles.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He pushes his cock in, bottoming out in you as you scream at the feeling of him. It was much more different than you expected, feeling all of him in you as your lips trembled at the feeling of his veins dragging up your walls.

“Eddie! Fuck, ugh, oh fuck you’re s-so big!”

He whines at the way you grip his wrists, how tears spring up to your eyes as you try to get used to his size.

He can feel your nails drag along his back, the pain not enough to hurt him as he tries to control himself, knowing that you had to adjust for a couple of seconds before he continued. It was evil the way you had him wrapped around your little finger, acting like he knew everything when he was a total mess whenever he was around you.

Your eyes squeeze shut at the sting, his dick still managing to stretch you out after months of taking him.

“S-stop,” He moaned out as you dragged your hands across his chest, your psalm freezing as he shivered, “Stop clamping down on me s’much sweetheart, gotta…” He breathed deeply through his nose, still trying not to move, “Gotta loosen up, j-just a little bit, fuck, p-please…” And you try, really you do, but he’s just so big that you don’t have the opportunity to do so.

So Eddie gives up, his hips betraying his mind as he pulls back out, slamming back down into you as your screams and moans wrap around him, holding his body like a vice as you grip at his arms, begging him quietly through your choked words to just slow down a little bit.

You can feel every little inch of him in you, his veins dragging up and down your walls as his tip teases that spongy part inside of you, his hands trailing down to where your bodies connected as he rubbed frantically at your clit, your eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy.

“Shit - fuck, Y/n you feel so fucking amazing like this, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He groaned, his hands searching for yours, sliding them up as he curled his fingers with your, the bead of sweat trickling down his face as he kissed the tip of your nose in the loving way he always did.

It wasn’t that you weren't used to this, how he fucked you up and down on his cock.

Eddie Munson just always seemed to know how to fuck you stupid.

Words were incoherent from your mouth as you babble on about how amazing he was, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot as you gripped whatever you possibly could, your hands searching for something to hold because you felt like you’d be slipped away sooner than later.

He hoists your leg up to his shoulder, leaning down as he nuzzles into your neck, letting out a choked moan as he kisses your breasts, sucking at them and leaving little bites all over them as he felt himself going insane with the way you clenched tightly around him.

The smell of sweat and sex was defiling you all over again, Eddie's cologne mixing with the perfume you had spritzed on earlier that day, and it became addictive, the way you searched for it, something that only the two of you could create.

“Eddie, please, mphf!” You moaned as he captured the sound in a searching kiss, his tongue running along your lips wet with spit and tears, “Please, p-please cum in me, I wanna feel you so fucking b-bad!” You cried as his finger swirled faster against your clit. The feeling that mixed with the way he rutted his hips against you, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass as it became drowned out by the sound of both your sobs.

Both you and he could feel each other releases coming, with the way your walls began to clamp down even tighter and how he faltered, his legs growing weak from the weight of it all crashing down on him, his hold on your waist growing tighter than ever before as his hips slammed back down into your pelvis with less force than before.

You trailed your fingers down to where he was circling your clit, all of it working together as you let out a little squeal as you gushed around him, your release coating his skin as he sputtered against you.

“Shit! Fuck, oh god, Y/n, fuck, I’m c-coming…” He couldn’t finish his sentence as you felt his cum coating your walls, hot against your already burning folds as he slumped down, groaning into your chest as your hands stayed limped on his back.

His dick was still pulsating inside of you, a little bulge from everything and he slowly pulled out, his cock growing soft as he watched his cum spill out of you, the sight nearly enough to make him hard again.

“Holy fucking shit,” He muttered softly, his fingers going to your aching cunt as he tried to shove it back in there, not missing the way you moaned as he accidentally rubbed against your swollen clit, “Y’look so fucking hot right now.”

And even in your dazed state, you managed to laugh, the sound warming up his chest as he engulfed one of your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips as he left tender kisses on your fingertips, trailing down to your knuckles as you melted at the gesture.

“Shit, shit,” He muttered quickly as he notices all the marks littering your chest, his rings scratching alongside your waist from how tightly he was gripping you and he grimaced, “Sorry for hurtin’ you, didn’t mean to be so rough,” You would have argued if you weren't so tired. And regardless, you watched through blurry vision as he quickly jumped off the bed, tugging on some boxers as he sprinted out of the room only appearing minutes later with a wet towel.

“Here,” He motioned for you to spread your legs a little bit so he could clean the mess between them, “There you go, just like that sweetheart,” He tried to be gentle, cooing at you as you winced as it dragged against the tender skin of your cunt, delicate kisses lining your entrance as he looked at you through his long lashes.

“Y’did so fuckin’ amazing.”

With a little giggle and a knowing smirk, you shrug, pulling him by the back of his neck as you kiss the corner of his lips.

“I know Munson,” You push his hair behind his ear as he smiles into your lips, “You never fail to mention.”

He grins, flopping down beside you as he tosses your shirt back towards you, averting his gaze as he tugged it on, his innocence in moments like this making you fall for him even more than you already thought was possible.

Eddie glanced at the clock on the wall, groaning at the time and you followed his gaze, the sinking feeling filling your stomach as you realized that it was beginning to get late and you’d have to go home soon.

“Wish you’d just stay,” He whispered truthfully, turning his body so that he could press against your neck.

“I know,” You kissed the side of his head as you nudged his jaw with your nose, wanting him to look at you as you smiled a little bit, “Soon.”

He perked up a bit, eyes widening as he tried to decipher what you could mean.

“Soon?”

“Soon,” You say with a giggle, laughing against his lips as he brings his hand up to cradle your face, smiling gleefully into the kiss as he gently bit your lip, pulling it forwards as your hands ran up and down the expanse of his naked torso.

“Really?”

“Really really,” You say and he scoffs, almost not believing you as he raises his brows.

“You honestly mean it?” He sounded so optimistic, so tantalizingly precious that you couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, nodding against his face as he gripped your hips gently, kissing alongside your jaw as he could practically feel his heart beating sporadically in the limited space of his ribcage.

“Cross my heart.” You say, doing the motion as his forehead relaxed, hugging and pulling you closer to his chest as his fingers trailed across the curves, the little dips your body allowed only him to see.

The beating of his heart was loud, yet peaceful enough to lull you into a state of calm, your breathing slowing down as his hands mapped every crevice of your torso, pinching playfully at your thighs as you giggled in his grasp.

“Think I’m starting to like cherries more,” He murmured against your skin, his lips hot on your shoulder as you smiled up at the ceiling, eyes twinkling as Eddie traced little shapes onto your stomach.

“Yeah?” He hummed a bit as you couldn’t help but laugh at it all, “Why’s that Munson?”

“Apples just don't...” He paused trying to think of how to phrase it correctly, “They don’t cut it anymore, if you get what I’m saying.”

“I’m sorry but,” You chuckle as he smiles against you, “I don’t think I do, Eds.” It was these little conversations that you cherished more than anything, where both of you were carefree and the world around you didn't matter because the way he held you tightly against him made you feel so many different things at once you couldn’t process the emotion somethings.

“Yeah, well,” He gave an exaggerated sigh, “Cherries have the annoying seeds and they charge fifty times more for them but,” He licks your neck and you heat up, “They remind me of you. Apples now remind me of Henderson and his lunches packed with that god-awful smelling baloney.” You give him a hearty laugh, turning around as you kiss him, not able to stop because he always managed to toy with your heart in this particular way that made you wonder why you hadn’t met him sooner.

The night faded out with him bringing you back home, dropping you off with a tender kiss and a farewell wave, acting like your very own knight as he left you beaming by your front door, your feet digging into the concrete as you reached up on your tiptoes to wave goodbye to him. And you Realized at that very moment that Eddie Munson had total reign over you now, and nobody could match up to him again.

So when you meant soon, you really did mean it.

That following day you strolled into the cafeteria, straying away from the boy attached by your side as you ignored his confusing calls, wondering why in the world you were walking towards Eddie Munson.

Your smile was bright and gleaming as he watched through a calculating gaze, leaving everybody in that lunchroom stunned and speechless as you leaned up and dragged him down by the neck to press a sloppy kiss to his lips, his smile apparent even as you pulled away, his hands never leaving your hips as he raised his brows.

“New gloss?” He asked, feeling the eyes of everybody in that room as he motioned his finger to his lips, and you shot him an apologetic look as you wiped it off with your thumb.

“Mhm, it's cherry!” You tell him with a little giggle, “Thought you’d like it!”

Eddie Munson was a man long gone after that, groaning as he swooped you back into his arms, not caring that your boyfriend was shouting loudly behind you, demanding to know what in the actual fuck was happening.

Because now, Eddie could finally kiss that obnoxious flavored gloss off your lips and knowingly stare at the world with a cocky smirk because you were always going to be his.

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loves124 · 2 years

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—𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 (𝐒𝐨 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭)

✩pairing: Farmer!Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

✩genre: hurt/comfort, smut

✩word count: 8.3k

✩warnings: slight angst, praise kink, facefucking, fingering, unprotected sex, decaf coffee.

✩authors note: this is a repost from my old blog @/izuushi! Farmer bakugou my beloved. I wanna dedicate this to the lovely @hawnks because it’s the fic that brought us together <3

✩excerpt:

“Has it ever broken down like this before?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “It’s been reliable until today. Ironic isn’t it? Finally got a vacation from work and now is the time it decides to break down.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Funny how life works.”

You look out the window, watching rolling hills pass by. You were so focused on getting to the vacation house you didn’t realize how beautiful it is here. How bright the green grass reflects against the sun; the trees that stretch towards the sky and sway against the wind. It’s different from the sights you’re used to; skyscrapers that make everything next to them look small, heels that clack on sidewalks and the loud sounds of traffic.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. “Funny.”

It’s blistering hot today.

It’s a dry heat. The kind that makes the roads look like they’re full of water in the distance. Makes the asphalt stick to the bottom of your shoes and sucks the moisture out of your body. It makes your tongue stick to your cheek; makes the sweat that drips down from your forehead sting your eyes. The sun is high in the sky today, bright and blinding and burning. It makes your skin feel like it’s on fire, its rays searing into your skin like it’s branding it.

The heat however, is the least of your problems when your car breaks down and leaves you stranded on some country backroad. Hours away from the vacation house you were supposed to be at. If the sun hadn’t taken away all the moisture your body had to give, you think you’d cry at the sight of smoke coming from underneath the hood of your car.

A man with the rustiest pick up truck you’ve ever seen pulls up next to you, staring at you through black sunglasses before pushing them to the top of his head.

“Need some help there, miss?” The man says. His eyes are a bright shade of red, like two pools of lava. His blonde hair sticks up in wild tufts, some of it sticking to his sweat slicked forehead. He looks thoroughly unamused, a tanned arm hanging out of the window of his truck and his hand lazily thrown onto the steering wheel.

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loves124 · 2 years

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double down

pairing. eddie munson x female! reader

an. well. we’re here again. this acts as a part two to my fic dealer’s choice, but can be read separately (tho honestly why would u want to) i don’t know what came over me when writing this, jesus. comments and reblogs make me insane so pls do it<3 synopsis. after a sexually charged run in with your dealer, you go to his house for another hook up. he’s got the goods.

warnings. 18+. minors (below 18) are not welcome. drugs, sex while high, fondling, kissing, female receiving oral, lil bit of biting, grinding against rings, female receiving penetration. not beta’d.

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loves124 · 2 years

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❝TAME ME —! ❞

# jjk men and how they would tame a brat

# gojou satoru, getou suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, sukuna, zen'in naoya

# brat taming, finger sucking, dacryphilia, mean doms, mentions of jealousy, bondage, ring gags, degradation, mild monsterfucking (sukuna’s pp can grow), exhibitionism, semi-public sex, toxic!naoya

# 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

The one thing about SATORU is that when he’s feeling particularly mean… he can go all out.

Your pretty wrists are tied to the bedpost, his blindfold completely obscuring your vision, and all you’re left with are the delectable sounds coming from your boyfriend.

“H-hah… you get me so fuckin’ hard, pumpkin.”

Not even your favorite nickname falling from his peachy lips can ease the edge inside of you; the one that crests in unending waves thanks to the wet squelches of his palm around his cock and his theatrically husky moans.

“Next time you want to throw yourself at another man—be my guest.” A whimper tears past your swollen lips when you feel him nudging his cock into your mouth. “Just don’t act up when I decide not to fuck your slutty pussy, sweetcheeks.”

# 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

In contrast to Gojou, GETOU is far more insidious with his punishments.

There’s a deep need in him for discipline and order, and that includes how his little darling treats him in front of his worshippers. When you had rolled your eyes at something he can’t quite frankly remember what he said in front of the whole temple, the next thing you knew, your knees were on the hard stone floor, his cock bullying down your throat.

No one dared to defy their master when he got into his moods; there was nothing you could do but take your punishment. Even if there were a hundred over eyes on you; your entire body was flashing hot with the shame at how lewdly your cunt was creaming from his harsh treatment.

But, Suguru doesn’t care. He’s eaten you out in front of his worshippers before, so what is a little bit more exhibitionism in the long run?

“Cat got your tongue, darling?” Getou mocked, growing harder at the sight of those precious little tears running down your face. “Or perhaps you really do like getting slutted out in front of a crowd, hmm?”

# 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

The vein throbbing from his forehead should’ve given you enough of an indication that KENTO was pissed.

That, and how he had been completely quiet during the entire car ride back. But, it wasn’t exactly your fault you couldn’t read his moods—your world was spinning around in a technicolor blur that you barely noticed when he stopped the car.

His lips were warm on yours and only when he pushed down your car seat into a recline did you start to think something was wrong.

“Ken, baby—mmph.”

Nanami wasn’t exactly one for words, but when those pesky syllables failed him, he knew he can rely on the silent implications of his tongue in your mouth. His fingers, thick and sure, slip underneath your dress to rub your still-clothed clit, eliciting a whimper from you.

Those same digits curl and pump into your heat, his mouth never leaving yours. Smothering your incessant moans with his kisses; pinning your tongue down with his own.

Once or twice, you catch the flashing headlights of another car passing by, but Nanami doesn’t bother with decency. Beg me to make you cum, he whispered hotly and you do—pleading for him to fulfill your orgasm, swiveling your hips to take his fingers deeper and to push yourself down the cliff’s edge.

He doesn’t give in to you. Instead, Kento wrenched his fingers from your aching pussy, gave you one last perfunctory kiss on your parted lips, and told you to wipe your slick up so it doesn’t spill onto his expensive leather seats.

“This is what you fucking get for flirting with my co-workers, sweetheart. Now when we get home, you’re going to get on your knees and apologize properly, you hear me?”

# 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“T-Toji… please—”

“‘Toji, please’,” he parroted back to you, smirking when your cute little cunt spasmed around his thick dick at his mocking tone. “That wasn’t what you said when I asked you to bend over for me, doll.”

Your sweet whimpers were like music to TOJI's ears, and he takes his time to ruin you; hips snapping forward, leaving you achingly empty only to slam his cock back into you to get you all full and pretty for him again.

“Next-time-don’t-you-dare-talk-back-to-me,” Toji punctuated every word with a hard thrust. Your orgasm raced through you, only to falter when he pulled out and painted your back white with his hot cum. He expelled a heavy breath, pushing you onto your front so he could rut his still-softening cock through your sticky folds.

Want it in me, Toji! You cried and squirm. Cum in me again, please?

“Tell me to fuck off when I ask you nicely to spread your pussy one more time, and I’ll make sure to never pump you full with my cum ever again, doll.”

# 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

One for the theatrics, SUKUNA absolutely despises it when you’ve been a brat.

Whether you do it indirectly via Yuuji or piss him off right to his face, it always ends up the same way: your arms bound to the sticky walls of his domain, his favorite ring gag splitting your lips apart and his cock leisurely pistoning down your gurgling throat.

“What’s that, pet? You want more?” he teased and to your horror, his cock grows bigger, threatening to break your jaw. You struggled to take all of him in, and he merely chuckles at the wild way you’re thrashing in your bonds.

“See? I always knew you could behave so sweetly if you put your mind to it.”

# 𝐙𝐄𝐍'𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀

As the head of one of the top three most important clans in the Jujutsu society, one would think your husband, NAOYA, would be a man of level-headed authority. But, as the woman who warmed his bed on a nightly (and even daily) basis, you begged to differ.

Days had passed since an inter-clan meeting where Naoya had not spoken to you. Everything you did to try and get him to open up was met with resistance.

An averted gaze, a clenched jaw. The feared Zen’in leader reduced to a sullen boy who lurked around the estate trying to avoid his wife.

Certain measures had to be taken, and as a matter of fact, you did miss him.

Which was why when he came back from a session of arduous training that left his favorite black sport shirt clinging to his muscles with sweat, there you were, on your knees, eyes trailed to the ground; begging him to look at you.

Naoya was silent for a bit and then, you heard it. A gust of air blew out of his mouth.

He was on you in seconds, pushing his fingers into your mouth, making you gag on them. Your misty eyes only made him harder and he smirked down at you; callous, cruel and so handsome it left your heart fluttering.

“There, there. You wanted my attention, you’ve got it, wife.”

Like a fast cut, his cursed technique whisked you from the floor and onto the bed, your legs spread wide to accommodate him. He doesn’t waste anymore time, practically shredding the clothes off his broad frame before his cock was pumping into you at a brutal pace.

“N-Naoya!” you screamed, tossing your head from side to side, unable to take the sudden and non-stop stimulation.

But, he doesn’t let up, hips snapping into you at such a fast pace, it was almost a blur. “Take your punishment, wife,” he snarled, gloating at how his silent treatment techniques had successfully broke you; how easy it was to tame you when he paid you less attention than usual.

“This is what you get for pandering to my brother—smiling at him—encouraging his lame jokes. You disappoint me.”

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loves124 · 2 years

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𝖏𝖚𝖏𝖚𝖙𝖘𝖚 𝖐𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖓!! 𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓…

must read: ✾ personal fav: ⚘

CHOSO…

future starts slow 18+ @/thekillingtimethekillingmoon

take your time (do it right) @/neonpothos ⚘

* take your time (do it right) has been taken down. in the meantime I’m gonna keep this up until i officially know they’re not gonna put their stories up again.

NANAMI KENTO…

guide to getting your old high school crush to notice you 101 18+ @xo2dee

leave a message after the tone @/historiuh

forbidden colours 18+ @/jaguarine , @dassah-ichi ⚘ ✾

stand by me 18+ @/jaguarine , @dassah-ichi ✾

understated. @starrysamu

sevens and threes @oomura

lovefoolish. 18+ @/wanderwithme

last piece 18+ @/dearmrsuh

i fall in love (whenever we meet) @/neonpothos

GOJO SATORU…

change of plans 18+ @/jaguarine , @dassah-ichi ⚘ ✾

sincerely not 18+ @saintobio ⚘ ✾

ukiyo 18+ @/tomodachi

fever daydream 18+ @/buttholesupreme ✾

wifey @/kuurechr

minazuki 18+ @quirklessidiot ⚘

agape 18+ @sunaerin

infactuation 18+ @akarisroom

the witches’ brew @/orphan_account

how the trust died. @iwaizumri

arranged love @animewomensupremacy

FUSHIGURO TOJI…

a pearl 18+ @lemonlover1110 ✾

you, my angel and my saint 18+ @lemonlover1110 (related to a pearl)

my eyes, oh, they’re stormy @/komiiya ⚘ ✾

(and your love is) standing next to me 18+ @/shidouryusei ✾

they were just friends (they were not just friends) @/wanderwithme ⚘ ✾

absentee boyfriend 18+ @midnightweeds ⚘

home @halcyon-writings ⚘ ✾

sad. beautiful. tragic. @3rdgymbros

ice queen. 18+ @tojiaesth

pomegranates and death 18+ @suna-reversed

last piece 18+ @dearmrsuh

GETO SUGURU…

it’s not over yet 18+ @lemonlover1110

stories from before @mochikeiji

the proposal @meirathinks

ZEN'IN NAOYA…

bewitched 18+ @lalunanymph ⚘ ✾

three faces of eve @creatoriginsane ⚘

ikigai @/kiyli

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI…

fated 18+ @lalunanymph ⚘ ✾

memories of winter @/agosu

memories of summer @/agosu

ITADORI YUJI…

angels like us 18+ @lalunanymph ⚘

OKKOTSU YUTA…

begin again @3rdgymbros ⚘

KUGISAKI NOBARA…

just thinking… @/agosu

INUMAKI TOGE…

step into the sun @/tojisblessing

and i never saw you again @3rdgymbros ⚘ ✾

RYOUMEN SUKUNA…

teacher’s pet 18+ @/akiko_mizushima

taking shape @/neonpothos

AOI TODO…

fan behaviour @/neonpothos

*unfortunately the todo fic was taken down. its sad because i really liked it. I’m gonna keep it up until i officially know it has been taken down.

MORE TO BE ADDED

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗…

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE FICS. I HAVE TAGGED AND HIGHLIGHTED THE OWNERS I REPEAT I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE FICS!!

NOTE: PLEASE SUPPORT THESE FANTASTIC WRITERS. AND LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS ON THEIR FICS.

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loves124 · 2 years

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Player. (Alpha!Sero x Reader)

masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Sero x Omega!Reader

Summary: Sero’s the guitarist of your favorite band and a man you idolize. When you meet him backstage before a show, he turns out to be a bit more sinister than you expected. A continuation of the story “Sweat” this time focusing on a new reader and Sero. “There was a clear power dynamic between alphas and omegas. Everyone alive knew this. No matter how strong, no matter how smart, an omega was almost always at the mercy of their pheromones. That’s how the world worked, no matter how nasty. So it was hard for you to look at Sero and say no when he crowded you in the dressing room after the show. Not that you wanted to. Not that when he stood over you like this, every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire, tickled by the way he smelled, by the way he was looking at you like you were something to be devoured.”

Content Warnings: A/b/o, dubcon (power dynamics), knotting, biting, marking, slight dacryphilia, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, finger-choking, gagging, toxic relationships, possessiveness, jealousy, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, slight manipulation, slight size kink, multiple orgasms, Sero is kind of an asshole.

Word Count: 8.4k

A/N: My first (and long overdue) Sero fic. Thank you to @ringpop-poppy for giving this a read and encouraging me with her antichrist level sexy Sero.

“Aw, sweetheart. Your hands are shakin’.” Sero smiled down at you, head titled. “No need to be nervous, I don’t bite… ‘less you want me to.”

Your face flushed with heat. Fuck, this was Sero Hanta. The Sero. The guitarist of your favorite group, Sweat, and an alpha with pheromones that you could feel through the fucking record. He was taller than you expected, with a smaller waist and broader shoulders, big palms that covered yours entirely when he took your hands in a shit attempt to calm you down. So much for that, he could probably feel the ground shaking from the way you trembled under his gaze.

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loves124 · 2 years

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just your luck

midoriya izuku x reader

PAIRING. personal trainer!midoriya x fem!reader

LENGTH. 14.8k words

GENRE. nsfw, aged up characters (20+)

PLAYLIST. detroit smash me

CONTENT. unprotected sex, edging, rough/painful sex, shower sex, public (ish?) sex, creampie, teasing, fantasizing, thigh riding, rimming (f receiving), oral (both receiving), cum eating, deepthroating, switching, lots of fantasizing/dirty thoughts

SYNOPSIS. get lucky with your hunk of a personal trainer in the locker rooms

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

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#cherub fics #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #deku x reader #deku smut #izuku x reader #izuku smut #midoriya x reader #deku x you #deku x y/n #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoriya x reader

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loves124 · 2 years

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Sweat. (Alpha!Deku x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Alpha!Deku x Reader

Summary: Izuku’s the bassist of an up and coming band and as alpha as can be. You’re their pretty omega stage manager who can’t seem to get him out of your head. He’s magnetic.

“As far as jobs go, this was ideal. You got paid well to order others around and ensure everything went well and, most of the time, you got weeknights off. You could deal with the sudden heats brought on by an alpha entirely too close to your ideal tastes and the shivers he sent through you when he’d step too close. That was manageable, to a degree. And sure, you’ve got some weird friends, but what’s not to love about a couple of music-loving oddballs with a hunger for success?”

Content Warnings: A/b/o, knotting, heats, biting, marking, dacryphilia, size kink, semi-public sex, slight exhibitionism, slight dubcon (alcohol), drugs, possessiveness, slight cockwarming, mentions of fingering and oral, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 10.8k (whew)

A/N: I think this is the longest one shot fic I’ve ever written. It’s also my first full a/b/o piece. I’m super nervous to post this but I hope y’all enjoy it <3 thanks for being here.

You landed this job a while ago. You really aren’t sure how, but fresh out of college you managed to snag a job with one of the best up and coming music groups in Japan, Sweat. You’re not sure how you were qualified. Outside of being the stage manager for a few college productions, you knew very little about what it meant to be a “manager”. Still, here you were, marching around backstage as music thundered through your ears from the speakers beside the stage, ordering interns and stagehands around as the show went on.

Perhaps the strangest part of your entire… situation, was the fact that you were the only omega backstage, that was part of the crew at least. It was odd already for omegas to have such public jobs, but it was odder still to be in charge of something. While society had been progressing, there was no doubt that omegas were less likely to receive jobs in positions of power when compared to alphas and betas. They were just too much of a liability, though you thought that was bullshit considering it’s alphas that couldn’t fucking control themselves. But the ones you worked with were alright.

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loves124 · 2 years

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the liminal space between love and lonely | m. izuku

➳ tags ;; PLEASE READ! 18+ slow-burn, strangers to lovers, fem!reader, plot with porn, explorations of themes like loneliness, minor character death (oc character!), critique of the hero system and of deku, a character study of izuku midoriya, reader is a college student but no age specified!, cooking scene solo!male masturbation, emotional sex, praise kink, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, mostly very vanilla, multiple orgasms, creampies,

➳ wc ;; 26.2k

➳ a/n ;; well folks. we did it. a week of non-stop yelling and screaming, emotionally damaging myself, feeling weird and fucked up and finally.. finally we're here. after all this goddamn time. credits to @/rat-zuki for the izu on the corner and my most honest to god thank you to the bubblepop server who has been only kind to me as i made this thing. especially @cyancherub, @katonshoko and @a-shy-blueberry for betaing this goddamn monster (sorry i make. This many spelling errors lol)

check out the extended authors note here!

spotify playlist | pinterest board

➳ synopsis: pro-hero deku rarely breaks from routine - the one he'd been keeping up with damn near four years. he's meticulous and lonely. he finds he doesn't really have time to feel things like love or lust or anything inbetween. he only meets you circumstance and he finds himself unprepared for the chaos you set off in his heart. what is love but an escape from the loneliness of life?

He can hear the rain from inside.

He changes out of his costume in a little stall on the far east end of town. It’s empty. A single fluorescent light hangs over his head. An eerie clean on the inside, all black tiles on the floor and white doors. A white toilet with a manual flush on it. No toilet paper on the ground, astray. His bag hangs out in the corner as he shimmies out of his hero costume. It sticks and clings to his sweaty body, the thick kevlar material stitched together with steel.

His suit looks about as grimy as him. Sliding off of his torso is a task, he carefully peels himself out of it. His arms first, slowly over his abdomen and then a pause between to take off his belt and gloves. The rest gets tugged haphazardly over his thighs and ass and he steps out of it just before it hits the floor. He doesn’t take too much care to fold it, knowing it can handle the damage. He shoves it into the little duffel bag he has on him, then stacks the rest of his accessories over top. He zips it shut carefully - and stark naked, he takes a deep breath of stale bathroom air.

It hits his body first, the exhaustion. Right in his shoulders where he drops a little. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs while no one is watching. His whole body droops as he unceremoniously relieves himself, the sound echoing especially loud in the tile bathroom with great acoustics

After that, he reaches into his bag for some babywipes. He keeps them on him to help him feel a little hygienic after long nights. The commute home is going to be long, two bus rides to his block. He uses one wipe to clean his dick off and another few to get the first layer of sweat off of his skin. He can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a leftover residue all over him. It’s better than nothing. The wipes get folded and rest on one of his bags and then he shuffles around in his backpack for clothes.

An all-white hoodie and some basketball shorts, the kind that hang to his knees with that mesh material. He changes into them immediately, soft fabric sliding over his body and making him shudder. The act of changing clothes doesn’t get enough credit for being an act of self-care, he thinks. The shorts come on next, slide just over his v-line, and hang at his hips loosely. There’s a cap and a mask at the very bottom, a white one and a black mask that he slips over the messy mop of green on his head. He snatches another wipe for his face, quick and easy, before sliding the black mask over his mouth and nose.

He makes sure everything is in order before he dips out of there. His duffel bag over one shoulder, his bookbag on his back - steady and secure. He rummages through his things and grabs a torn-up All-Might wallet, the one he’s had since 7th grade, before grabbing the used wet wipes and crumpling them in his hands.

With his freehand, he undoes the door. There’s not a single soul in here, not even a ghost. No leaky faucets or creaking doors to signal the fact that this place is alive. A big mirror stretches along one of the walls, all connected. He doesn’t give it more than one glance as he chucks the wipes in the trash and hurries outside.

When he gets there, it’s still raining. It’s an incredible, thundering rain now. It’s gonna soak him to the bone if he even steps foot in it, and he doesn’t have an umbrella. He could wait for it to pass, he thinks - staring out into the sea of night. Just a few streetlights and gusts of wind to keep him company, a flickering light at the station, and a vending machine between the male and female bathrooms. He’ll have to run through it anyways. To make it on the transport and get home so he can get some hours of well-needed rest, maybe eat and watch a documentary.

He thinks about it for a little, mouth open and brows furrowed. If Deku goes now, he could stop by 7/11. It’s the one that’s always open no matter how late it gets.. and if he goes there maybe he could warm a bento and get a gel pack of electrolytes. He should visit his mom soon, if not for anything else, for a homemade meal. He misses his mom a lot but tries not to think about it.

He should probably just go for it, so he does. With everything clutched to his body, Izuku Midoriya runs towards the first bus-stop that he’ll have to take. One more bus when he makes it and then he’ll be home. It’s not a far run, but running in the rain is always hard. For some reason, it feels like drowning, which is weird - shouldn’t you only be able to drown if you’re in a big body of water? He runs and inhales several gusts of air and water and it feels like he’s in the ocean. He makes it in the nick of time, still catching his breath when he stops.

He ducks into the plastic shelter for people who are going to ride the bus - some advertisements stuck to the wall. He got soaked like predicted. In his head, he’s practicing the way he’s gonna bow his head to the driver. He waits a while. Everything around here is closed now, all dark and dreary. There’s a hue of blue that sets over the whole place, he thinks the streetlights here are colored like that on purpose.

He thinks it’s 10 minutes before the bus gets there. The doors make a loud whoosh sound as they pry open and Deku slips himself between the cracks of the door. He bows at the driver extra deep, an apology whispered from chapped lips that gets waved off. He sits himself in the back, on the edge - just out of instinct. If anything were to happen on the bus, he would be able to see any suspicious passenger. He’s always vigilant, like a 6th sense, sometimes he forgets he’s doing it until it hits him, randomly. All out of nowhere, leaving him to sit in. It’s uncomfortable.

He decides to put on some music, just one headphone. His airpods are deep in his bag and he has to fish for them. He has a playlist that he defaults too, softer lofi sounds and some random acoustic - or whatever he feels like. He’ll listen to anything if he likes it enough.

Another habit, he takes account of everyone in the bus with him. He’s learned to do this everywhere he goes; it’s easier. If something happens - he’ll know what to tell the police and it gets done a lot faster. Late at night, there’s not many shady characters. A man in his late 50’s wearing a construction uniform, a drunk, brown-haired male college student, and a young woman with dyed hair who keeps staring at her ring finger. Other than all of them, it’s just the bus driver and Deku. He probably looks the most suspicious, with the hat and the mask on but he figures there isn’t anything for him to do about that.

The bus ride is smooth and quiet. Nothing happens. No signals to alert him to the threat of danger, just a shared sense of nothing-ness. When he gets closer to all the shopping centres, it’s a bit more lively. He listens to music and closes his eyes. It’s nice. There are so many more colors on every street and every sign, it’s a little easier to look at. He’s the first person to get dropped off among this crowd of people, and all of them watch as he idly passes.

When he leaves and steps off , the scent of petrichor invades his lungs - a hard hit to his chest. He breathes in so much of it he stumbles. The rain is soft now, like a kiss, but it still feels he’s drowning when he inhales. Short pants between each long breath. It’s cold and his clothes cling to him a little. He has 45 minutes till the next bus gets here, and there’s a 7/11 around the corner. He’s never been to that one specifically, he just knows it’s there. Today is the first day he’s going to try to look inside. He needs some more electrolytes, a protein bar, and probably something hot. A cup ramen with an egg, or something else that he can get down in under 15 minutes.

The rain made it look misty and far but the walk to the 7/11 was less than ten minutes. When he comes in, still soaking wet - he finds that no one is at the counter. He thinks whoever is working is probably inside of the break room so he doesn’t bother. He thinks anyone working this late should probably avoid strange customers, even him, so he grabs a basket instead. A little water squishies in his shoes as he walks around, a trail of wet steps following behind him

The bright lights makes his head ache, so he finds himself squinting as he walks around the store. It doesn’t stop him from getting what he needs. He finds some protein bars in one aisle, next to all of the electrolyte gel packages. He throws several of them in his basket and keeps moving through, examining each thing with care and patience. He doesn’t need a lot of the things in there, but he buys them anyways. Some jelly candy, a packet of biscuit sweets, some other junk. He normally eats well, healthy - but it’s been a long day.

He gets other things. Some baby wipes for his bag since he’s running out, gauze and bandages, a small two pack of headache medicine over the counter. A silly dog trinket to put on his keys that he buys a little more shyly. He’s so engrossed in it, he doesn’t hear your quiet footsteps as you meander back to the counter. You were on your bathroom break and when you came back, a shady dude in a hoodie and mask came in. Alarmed, you watch for a while.

But given all the things in his basket, he seems harmless. A squishy shiba-inu charm isn’t exactly something a villain would own.

You get engrossed in your reading again as he gets to the food in the back part of the store. Some warm street food, warmed in a rotisserie, cup ramen and a station for hot water, disposable chopsticks and a few left-over pre-packaged bentos. He decides on ramen, some eggs, and protein bars. When he gets home he’ll eat a proper meal, or at least try - but his stomach has been rumbling since he left the bathroom.

After 5 minutes of debating, he comes up to the counter - startled by your presence. You don’t stick out to him and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He blinks down at you as you tuck your book away, a paper napkin being used to keep track. It goes somewhere under the counter as you yawn before greeting him.

“Welcome to 7/11. Did you find everything okay today?”

He goes blank for a second before registering what you’ve said.

“Oh, uhm - yes,” he replies awkwardly, putting his basket on the counter and slowly taking his things out.

You don’t look up as you start scanning his items one by one, punching something into the screen as you do. You talk on autopilot.

“Long night?” you ask, mindlessly. He gives you another surprised look before breaking out into a mostly genuine laugh.

“That obvious?”

His banter catches you off-guard. Before you know it, you’re cracking a smile at him. A little laugh leaves your mouth, heavy with the evening. Raspy from exhaustion, he imagines. You give him a once over, as if you’re thinking about it before nodding.

“A little, yeah.”

The pleasantry makes your mood lighter as you scan and bag his items. With rapport built, he feels comfortable asking.

“..Is it just you working tonight?”

Caught off guard, you lift your eyes to look at him. A little ribbon of fear pulls through you before relaxing. You nod a little.

“Yeah.. just me. I work the night-shift,”

He blinks at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. In a way you have, you know you have. It’s a little unheard for a woman your age to be working alone, late at night, in the middle of the city. It irritates him that your boss, whoever they are, would let you. The hero in him wants to ask if you have any weapons you know how to use, and if you know all the exists exits and how to signal for the police.

Nothing really comes out of his mouth, brow furrowed. Noticing his concern, you decide to give him a little more info.

“I live around the corner, maybe two blocks from here. The hours aren’t great but it works for my schedule. It’s a safe area. I’m pretty vigilant, so -,”

“Still.. a civilian should already be cautious but especially a woman your age -”

You pause, and so does he. A soft pink flush dusts his cheekbones. You blink.

“Civilian… are you a hero? That would explain why you're here so late,” ― you say aloud, ringing up the last of his belongings. You give him a good look, green hair peering out of cap and green eyes bright and blinking ― “...Pro-Hero Deku right?,”

Despite the fact he’s been a pro-hero for almost 4 years, he still isn’t sure how to handle being recognized. His face is plastered over the country yet he still finds the whole thing uncomfortable. Not knowing how to reply, he just nods.

“Y-yeah.. that’s me,”

Your eyes go wide for a moment, a little shock hitting you before giving him a smile.

“Oh..cool. Nice to meet you,”

After bracing himself for a slew of questions, his check back into reality feels weird. You tap at the screen a few times before going back to normal.

“That’ll be 2,950 yen” you tell him plainly. He’s stuck for a minute but manages to grope around from his wallet. He slides his card on the little machine, punching his pin in and hearing a little ding sound. Transaction complete rings on the machine and you print the receipt, tucking into one of the bags before pushing it lightly towards him.

He can’t describe it, the sudden need to stay here for a while, instead of rushing home like he’d planned. Maybe it’s because the hero in him couldn’t just leave, knowing you’d be alone this late at night. Maybe it’s something else. He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Can I eat this here?” comes out as a messy rush, hastily pulling out the ramen. You blink at him before smiling a little. He has a charm to him, a little awkward, that makes you laugh. Makes you feel better. It’s not so bad.

“Sure,” ― you tell him, leaning over the counter ― “Want me to keep you company?”

“So you’re a student here?”

Deku is less than halfway into his ramen, blowing on the hot noodles between each question before carefully sliding them into his mouth. You laugh a little, nodding your head with your chin resting on your palms.

“Yeah. I’m in what’s supposed to be my last year, but I don’t think I’ll graduate until next year,” you explain. You worry it’s too much information, you doubt a hero like him is all that interested.

But he looks engrossed in your conversation, even though one of his cheeks is swollen with hot ramen.

“I don’t really know anything about college,” he admits to you sheepishly.

“Oh yeah.. not a lot of pros go into college right?,”

He shakes his head, swallowing a bite and taking a breath.

“Not really. There’s some Hero Colleges and programs but most of us just join another agency as sidekicks or try to open our own,” ― he explains to you, raking his thoughts on who he can think of that went to one ― “I don’t think anyone from U.A’s graduating classes has gone to one. Some people at Shiketsu High, but not U.A,”

You give him a half-way smirk.

“I don’t see why a school of elites would need to go to a hero college either, yknow”

He chokes on his ramen, giving you a soft pout as you giggle. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head as if to dispel any of the thoughts.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. You smile at how genuine he’s being.

“I know, but isn’t it true? A school of such prestigious heroes.. I figure most of you went pro right away,”

“Me, Kacch- Dynamight, and Shouto opened our agencies as soon as we were 18. Most of our classmates went into being sidekicks but they almost all have their own agencies,”

“It’s cool that you have your own agency. I see you in the news all the time,” you tell him, comfortable complimenting him. His whole face always stops before it hits, a little blush delicate on his face.

It’s charming about him, you think. You have to admit, even you feel starstruck. A chance encounter with Pro-Hero Deku is nothing to sneeze at. Somehow, you think interviews don’t do him enough justice. In person, he’s much more charming. He’s awkward but he banters well and he’s handsome. He listens, too. Polite and respectable, you understand why he won Japan's Sweetheart last year.

“Ah.. thank you. It’s a dream come true for me, so I have to do my best,”

You give him a little smile.

“My little cousin loves you, so I’d say you’re doing pretty good,”

His eyes go wide, big and green and full of life.

“Really?”

“Really really. I was pretty starstruck when I realized and I’m not that big into hero stuff. I learn second hand from him,”

He gives you a laugh this time, loud and bright.

“Starstruck? Really? I’m surprised… you didn’t seem fazed at all,”

You shrug.

“I’m good at hiding my reactions. Working this late, it’s part of the gig,”

He gives you a deep laugh at that, straight from his chest. It sends a little chill up your spine.

“I bet..probably see a lot of.. interesting people here, huh?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Mostly just me though, gets kinda lonely,”

You don’t mean for the words to come off so heavy when you say them. You’re going to make a joke but you stop, stagnant - his green eyes are unusually somber. The most you’ve seen them the entire night.

“Yeah..” ― he replies back, voice distant and eyes far off― “I get what you mean,”

It’s hard to explain the feeling. It’s not like anything else you’ve ever felt. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of good company, or the absence of light that has you feeling like this. It’s odd, all of it. You take an inhale and it’s quiet, and you think for a while.

“It was nice,” ― you say first, breaking the silence ― “Having company, I mean. It was nice to have someone here. My shifts are always super boring,”

He lifts his head to look at you. He’s probably just tired, just sleepy. The plausible reason for all that can only be his exhaustion. He’s compelled anyway. With a little laugh, he throws his things away and packs up his other belongings.

“It was, wasn’t it?,”

You’re the only person he’s spoken to in weeks. Just this small talk, so far removed from everything in his life.

“I’m here at the same time, everyday so,” ― you feel shy saying it, flush reaching your neck ― “If you’re ever in the area.. wanna kill some time. It’d be nice to see you again. I’m sure you’re super busy so no -”

“I’ll be back soon,” he says with finality, a little breathy at the end of your sentence. He smiles at you and you smile at him. It’s dizzying

You laugh back, and your shoulders relax. A grin makes itself permanent, cheeks aching.

“I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Deku,”

It’s his turn to look shy.

“Ah.. Midoriya. You can just call me Midoriya,”

“I’ll look forward to it... Midoriya,”

He gives you one last goodbye, watching as you wave from the window towards him. He can’t help but laugh. When he turns around, he checks the time and his eyes go wide. An exasperated chuckle leaves his mouth. The bus he was supposed to take left more than an hour ago but the next one is close by. He’s still kind of wet from the rain, and his shoes are soaked.

But he feels full, and not at all uncomfortable . When he walks to the station, he has a permeating warmth in him. He catches the next bus with all of his things intact and makes it home in around fifteen minutes. The suns just about to rise when he stumbles into his empty apartment.

Normally, he’d feel like he’s dragging his feet. But when he gets home, he has all this energy he’s not sure what to do with. He showers first, hot water washing off the grime of the day, and when he gets out he changes into new clothes.

But when he gets out, he finds he’s not hungry. He doesn’t really want anything other than to sleep and for it to be tomorrow again. He goes home and thinks of you the whole day. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept so easily until his head hits the pillow.

Deku’s daily routine for the last two years has been very consistent.

It took some time for him to get it all in order, a lot of planning and replanning. He’s the head of his own agency - in the first place, he feels like he’s always on the clock. The biggest of the big three, All Might's successor, he has a lot of responsibility. When people need advice about running an agency, he’s normally the first person they’d ask. These days some of the responsibility gets passed onto Kacchan and Todoroki, but Deku has always been the friendly one, the helpful one.

He really doesn’t have it in him to say no, so when Kirishima calls him at odd hours with his most sincere “Midoriya!” it’s hard for him to ignore. A routine is less of want and more of necessity. To keep his sanity intact, he has to know exactly when and how something is going to happen. He’s more disorganized than Kacchan, and more lenient than Todoroki. And it took a long time - almost two years - to get a good schedule that he could follow every single day without getting too exhausted or overworked.

Everythings worked out, down to the most devilish detail. During the weekday, he patrols the night shift about 5 days a week. He wakes up around 12pm after going to sleep at around 6am each night. On Mondays and Fridays, he does cardio first thing in the morning and the rest of the week is weight-training. Half a gallon of water before and after each workout. He eats for the first time at 2pm and logs his macros, almost 200g of protein a day. More water and then he showers at 3pm. He’s always in the shower for 27 minutes exactly and out of the bathroom at 3:30.

After his shower, he meanders around his house and takes care of little tasks before he leaves the house in another hour. He dries his hair and puts product in it, puts on lotion and deodorant, waters whatever plant he manages to keep alive. It’s nice, the domesticity. In that time, he normally checks up on chats and replies to old friends. Always shallow, little conversations when he has the time. He calls his mom and she gives him a lecture about taking care of himself.

It’s all routine, and at 4:30 he gets dressed. The commute to his agency is about an hour, most of it just waiting for the next bus and on a good day - he makes it around 5:30, half-an hour before he’s supposed to be there. Most days though he’s lucky to be in around 5:45. When he steps foot in the agency, he’s normally swarmed immediately.

His assistant fills him on what paperwork needs approval and what’s going on in the day, within the week. What meetings, what dates, what information needs to be sent to the data analysts on the bottom floor. He’s in the office for about two hours doing housekeeping, and delegating tasks to the rest of his team. He normally eats again, right before patrols. At 8, he knows it’s time to change into his costume.

He patrols from 8:30pm to 3am, sometimes later if there’s more crime than usual. He’s the last person at the agency, and at 3am he picks up his stuff from the office. Sometimes he changes in there but most of the time - he’s rushing to get it completely closed down. He normally grabs his bags and walks to the little restroom station in the middle of nowhere.

He changes and takes two buses just like before. It’s better for the environment to commute, but he thinks maybe he should invest in a car, or a bike. The commute is much shorter at night than during the day, when there’s traffic. He’s normally home sometime around 5. He eats one big meal again and goes to sleep. He thinks he should eat a little less at night but patrols leave him starving. He showers before bed and does it all again the next day.

He has one day off a week, on Sundays he doesn’t work at all. He’s mostly unreachable except for the emergency phone he has. He disconnects other than the news on TV. He only really started taking a day off because of his mom, anyway. He spends it in the house, watching documentaries, or sleeping, or getting some more weight training in. He can deadlift a few tons by now.

His week is routine, and he keeps busy wherever he can. It’s hard to see friends when everyone is scheduled at different times, doing different things. Sometimes he gets lucky enough to see Todoroki or Kacchan during the week - and even if his childhood friend is hard pressed to admit it, it’s nice to see each other. Most Sundays, he visits his mom and hangs around her house. He thinks most people would find it weird, but it’s comforting. Laying on the couch and watching romance movies with her, passing her tissues when she cries.

He’s gotten good at laughing off her comments about when he’ll find someone. They’re lighthearted by nature, but he knows there’s an edge of truth to them. Deku doesn’t remember the last time he thought seriously about love, or the last time he changed his routine. Some things, he just doesn’t think about. He can’t, realy.

He’s had the same routine for almost 2 years and he doesn’t normally deviate from it.

But it’s been a few months, and everyday after work - Deku pushes back his plans to go home by about an hour. He catches the latest bus there and gets about an hour less of sleep than normal. It’s not enough to stop him. He doesn’t eat as much at night like he used to, not as hungry as before. He just goes home and sleeps. And lately on Sundays, he still visits his mom but he can’t wait for the weekdays to come again.

He’s been journaling since he was young, too, accustomed to jotting his day down. Just to keep track of heroic stuff. Important details. His habitual note-taking never really went away, notes of notorious villains and cases line his walls edge to edge. In his personal journal, he normally jots down whatever comes to mind. Nothing interesting. Nothing special, by nature. Deku doesn’t really have much going on.

These last few months though, each page has more than a few paragraphs. Sometimes the entries fill to the edge of the page. They’re long and detailed. Sometimes beautiful, maybe even poetic. These days, they’re filled with the words of a person. A someone. Not a classmate, or a new sidekick. Just someone, who works the nightshift of 7/11 and likes to sleep.

He’s started to keep his pen and paper in the bag instead of waiting to get home, words buzzing around in his head. He writes down the details of your conversation on the bus ride back, a playlist in his ears. On each page, there’s little bumps and blips from where the bus hits a pothole. It’s dated, and organized. You can see where little notes become full pages.

And it’s filled edge to edge with new facts about you. Next to words about what beautiful things he’d seen that day. The sun and how it rose, the dog walking on the street. It’s different for him, to sit down and think of beautiful things. He doesn’t remember the last time he found anything beautiful, at least not like this.

Deku learns these things about you, in order. He learns your name - your full name. The country you're from and where your parents are from. Where you go to school and what you major in. Your best friend's name. He learns what your tattoos mean, and how many piercings you have and which ones you want. Why you part your hair the way you do or why it’s styled the way it is, and what your favorite colors are. One week, he learns in detail your analysis of your favorite anime franchise. He learns what colors you like to paint your nails and why your manicures are always chipped.

Some details you don’t express to him, some he just catalogs. You always have your right hand over your left. Your smile is a little lopsided and you don’t rest your face often. You always look sleepy, even when you’re wide awake. You like to laugh and you like making stupid jokes. You like complimenting him. You don’t mind when he stutters in conversation. You like to eat those little jelly packets when you’re feeling antsy. Your physics class is exhausting because it’s the only book you study when you’re not reading a fiction book or manga.

You’re exhausted. You’re pretty to look at. When he looks at you, he thinks he should know more about you. He’s starting to feel something for you. It’s weird. He doesn’t mind your company. He wants to see you again.

He wants to see you again.

He starts bringing face wash in his bag to look decent for you.

It works. Yesterday, when he saw you, you told him he looks refreshed. He did today again, but he knows you might not notice. Still, it felt like the right thing to do.

He ducks his head a little when he enters after his long shift. The bright lights are still blinding and it’s raining again - knee deep into storm season. He should buy an umbrella soon. When he walks in, he immediately looks at the counter. When he finds you're not there, he’s more disappointed than he should be. He gets over it fast, busying himself with grabbing his to-go choices of dinner. It’s quiet, just him and his thoughts. His back aches a little so he buys a little muscle relief pad to put on it when he gets home.

It was a busier day than normal. There was a shoot-out earlier, a couple miles from his agency. Him and Kacchan ended up taking care of it, and about a group of 7 villains were arrested at the scene. There’s three more on the loose. After everything, Uraraka came by to help take care of the aftermath but those villains were tough to fight. All long range fighters, not Deku’s speciality even with blackwhip. A small criminal organization trying to gain some notoriety in the public, Deku’s been watching their case for months now.

Nothing they can’t handle but exhausting all the same. His body is sore all over, covered in bruises. He got patched up in the agency, in the medical unit but he can’t help but feel tired.

Still, he ended up coming here. He decides to eat a bento today, instead of ramen.

When you wander back behind the counter, you smile. You watch him mutter to himself for a minute or two before calling out for him.

“Look what the cat dragged in,”

His whole body gets warm when you talk. He stands up and turns around, a grin on his cheeks. Sheepishly, he walks over to you with a basket on hand. He walks over to the counter and places the little basket on top of it. You go to scan his things with your usual autopilot on.

“Oh! A bento today?,”

He smiles and laughs, resting his forearms on the counter. Your eyes are drawn to them. Instead of the usual hoodie, it’s a white v-neck that sticks to all the most muscular parts of his body. You shiver as you look and then look away. He yawns.

“Yeah.. felt like I should eat something more proper,”

You snort a laugh at that.

“For being a pro-hero, your diet is kinda shit, isn’t it?”

He blushes at you.

“What gave it away?”

“Ramen, I can forgive. But the protein bars and electrolyte packs are dead give-aways. You don’t cook..?”

He flusters a little bit more, shaking his head when he winces.

“Never picked it up, to be honest,”

You give him a smug smile before laughing as you ring up the last of his things.

“You’re such a mamas boy,” ― you tease, and he laughs and lets you ― “Lemme guess, you didn’t learn how to do a bunch of stuff until you moved out,”

He chuckles, paying for his items in between exchanges. He nods.

“When we moved into the dorms, Kacchan had to show me how to use the washer and dryer. I was also super clumsy about washing dishes. Too much soap, not enough time under the water. Little stuff like that,”

“And now…?”

He crinkles his nose and gives you a faux-pointed look.

“And now.. I use the dishwasher. I’m clean though, I swear,”

“Uh-huh. Sure,”

He rolls his eyes and the look sends your stomach fluttering. It’s a little more snarky, more comfortable. Your cheeks ache from smiling.

“What about you?”

You hand him some wooden chopsticks, putting his basket under the table as he settles into the seat closest to your counter next to the window. You give it a thought, as if deciding on what to say.

“My place is mostly spotless, other than my bedroom. My bedroom is a complete nightmare. Clothes and books and stuff everywhere. I can cook though, had to learn since college made me super broke,” you muse. He gives you a soft smile.

You pause, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

“I could cook for you sometime,” ― you suggest, treading especially careful, heart in the back of your throat ― “Whatever gets you to stop eating out like this.. for the greater good, y’know,”

He stares at you, gaping. For a split second he thinks he’s gonna be sick, but before you can retract - he scrambles. Chewing and swallowing his rice with impatience, he lifts a hand and nods his hand.

“No, I’d - uhm, I’d love that. I miss.. eating home cooked meals, honestly. Maybe you could.. you could teach me something?”

Your turn to be surprised. Your eyes go wide before relaxing and grinning, dropping your head down.

“Yeah. I can teach you to make curry. It’s really easy, but if I’m gonna take time out of my precious schedule to teach you, you have to promise to be a good student. No half-assing,”

Everything is so relaxed. So pleasant. He laughs, so loudly and so openly it makes your heart race. That feeling in your gut triples in size and you think to yourself, only briefly, what the odds were of meeting someone like him.

“If there’s one thing I’m good at is trying my best,” ― he tells you confidently, a little smugness tied to the end of his words. It flushes you instantly ― “I’m a fast learner too. I’ll make you proud,”

You can’t stop smiling. You think if a car came through the other window, all of your attention would still be right at him. Something about him is homely, familiar. He’s so easy to talk to, you forget that you haven’t known him long. You forget all the work you have to do still, all your worries.

“You better,” you try to say with authority. The both of you fall into laughter and it goes quiet for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable, a soft thrumming heartbeat and two people and nothing else.

“By the way,” ― you lean forward, examining him a little more closely ― “what happened today that’s got you so beat up?”

He widens his eyes and shakes his head.

“Nothing to worry about,” he assures you. The response immediately makes you frown.

“I know I’m a civilian Mr. Deku, but c'mon,” you urge “You look tired and you bought those little muscle patches - what’s up?”

He strains his face, frowning. His brow furrows.

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

You roll your eyes a little.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m always sure. If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t ask,”

He supposed he can’t argue with that. He thinks on it, for a moment like he doesn’t know what to say. Your face softens watching his back and forth.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” ― you say cautiously ― “Just say what,s on your mind. Don’t think about it too hard,”

He gives you a quick run-down of the day. All of the information is public, in the news. He sprinkles in some details about who he fought but doesn’t go into detail. He watches as your face strings up in concern, smiling softly at you.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” ― he tells you, his best hero look on ― “I got patched up, just sore. In a days’ work,”

“Of course I’m gonna worry,” ― your mouth curls into a pout, sighing a little ― “I know it’s your job and everything. It’s just like.. I don’t know - I still worry. I care,”

He laughs, and smiles. He doesn’t like making people worry, but from you.. it doesn’t feel so bad.

“Are you okay?” ― you ask, as if trying to figure out what you can do ― “Mentally or physically. Are you… is everything okay? Do you need anything,”

His heart feels heavy, just a little. He doesn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. He doesn’t know how to reply to it, mouth going cotton dry. His chest feels tight and his eyes are itchy.

“I uhm.. I’m really okay. Sore, like I said. But today’s job wasn’t so bad. Nobody got hurt, and everyone got out safely. It went well, all things considered,” ― he pauses like he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence ― “I’m.. today it was okay. I’m okay. Tired though, I even showered at the agency,”

You’re still frowning. Maybe you’re pushing it, the boundaries between the two of you.

“When it doesn’t go okay,” ― you say through a bated breath ― “Even when it doesn’t go okay, you can tell me. I don’t mind,”

But it sounds a lot like a please, like an “I want to know when something bad happens” and it’s enough to choke him up a little. He simply nods.

You give him a tight smile, before sighing.

“You said you were sore right? Do you… I could uhm.. help you put on your muscle patches. So you can just go home and sleep,” ― you say awkwardly ― “Th-the break room doesn’t have c-cameras so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I just.. I think you should rest as soon as you get home,”

There’s that funny feeling again, deep in his gut. It curls all over him, a sticky feeling so syrupy, it burns. A pink hue brushes against the nape of neck, wrapping around his ears, dancing on his nose and freckled face. He’s really not used to it. Not a moment of it.

But without thinking, he nods. Something comes over him, and he says sure.

“Yeah.. uhm. If you want too.. sure. That’d be.. nice,”

___

When he finishes his food, he throws it away in a grey trash can with a round opening. You tell him he leaves his stuff behind the counter instead of where he sits, and he obliges without hesitation. He leaves it right next to your stool where your book sits. You put a little sign up - that the employee is on a break and will be with you shortly and gesture for him.

Carefully, you guide him through a narrow hallway into the breakroom. It’s a big and windowless room. Inside of it there’s some lockers along the walls and a little rack to keep jackets and bags - separating the place into two. A TV sits against one of the walls and then a bunch of poster boards. You have employee of the month, an awkward photo of you put up. He smiles at it and you flush.

“I’ve had it for 4 months now, so the pictures are kinda old,” you explain self-consciously. He chuckles. He can’t help but feel that’s so very typical of you.

There’s a table in the center of the room. You tell him to give you a minute as you go back behind the wall. While you do, he examines the rest of the room. A machine for clocking in and out, a sink and a trash can, some chairs and some random pins for putting on your employee lanyard. Some coloring books, some crayons and other random stuff.

You return with a wooden stool you think he’ll fit on.

You take the little bag out of his hand and place it on the counter. He’s taller than you so you have to reach up to guide him to the stool. He plops himself down on it and flushes.

“Where do you need them?,”

“Uhm.. a lot of them are on my back. Upper and lower, and a few on my shoulders. Wh-when I do it alone, I just stick them on and hope for the best,” he explains to you. You shake your head.

“I figured,” ― you brush something touching your skin out of your face ― “I can press around and then you can tell me where you need one. Does that sound okay?”

His whole body goes stiff.

“I used to do this for a friend in highschool. So.. don’t worry about it too much,” ― you explain, trying your best to swallow the abashed feeling ― “Y-you might wanna take your shirt off though,”

“Oh! U-uhm.. yeah. One sec,”

You step back and try to avert your gaze. He takes his hat and mask off first and pauses. After, he gives a shaky exhale as he grabs the bottom of his v-neck in his hands, scarred hands crossing as he tugs it over his torso, above his head, and eventually all the way off of his body. All of his clothes get dropped on the table next to him, and he runs a hair through curly green hairs. Just to push back most of it, away from his face. He sits there, straightening up his back and you see it for the first time.

You’ve heard all sorts of stories about Deku and his scars. Your younger cousin has told you about it, how cool they are. It’s rumored that he has over a hundred, all kinds of battles lingering on his body. You know he has a lot, and have known ever since you saw his hands. It’s more scar tissue than skin.

It’s.. so different up close. Mixed emotions well up inside of you, and your hands tremble when you reach out and touch it. A little jolt of electricity goes up his spine and he twitches, but you don’t move your hand. Like you can’t. Your eyes are making him nervous.

“I know it’s kind of.. ugly to look at,”

You shake your head, but you realize he can’t see. You place your whole hand on his back, the muscle between his spine and shoulder. A delicate thumb brushes on the skin. You can’t seem to pull back, can’t look away at all, even when you try. Your eyes are big and they feel unusually tearful.

“No.. I don’t think they’re ugly at all. I just wasn’t expecting so many scars,”

He laughs unsteadily. It’s so intimate. His heart is in his ears. His body feels somewhere far away.

“Yeah. I hear that a lot,” ― he replies, nervous, and playing with hands like he doesn’t know what else to do ― “It doesn’t bother you..?”

It’s the softest touch. So gentle, and so.. caring. He shakes a little as you run them up, on his shoulder. You squeeze it.

“Not at all.. I like them,”

His eyes widen. He turns to look at you over his shoulder and you don’t look disgusted. You look fascinated. You look at his scars, then briefly at him. Your eyes meet and he stares at you.

“You.. like them?”

You nod, and don’t break eye-contact.

“I like them,” ― you confirm with finality, like there’s not more to be said ― “They’re unique. I don’t know.. I don’t think they’re ugly,”

He feels it, when you say it. He knows it’s nothing to ride home about, but he can’t remember. When was the last time someone touched him like this? When was the last time he let someone.. look at him so close? He can’t remember. He isn't sure he cares but he can feel your hands.. all over his skin. He breathes out.

“Thank you.. for thinking that,”

You really don’t mean to touch him. You weren’t planning on it. But your hands move freely across his skin and before you can think. You pull back.

“Is this okay?” but there’s an addendum unspoken, is it okay if i touch you like this?

He nods a little, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.. it’s okay,” but it sounds like yes, yes please

You reach out again, like a ghost on his body. Your hands are gentle at first, you press them against the muscles of his back. He takes a breath. You don’t feel like your voice is in its place. The words come out quiet, hushed.

“If I press somewhere and it hurts.. tell me and I’ll put a patch on,”

You don’t mean to touch him like this. Yet you can’t stop yourself either, your hands roam over the free parts of his skin, thumbs pressing down. You watch his body carefully, listening to his deep sighs or when he winces. He lets out a sharp inhale when you're closer to his lower back, so you stop and feel around. Your fingers knead the tense muscles and he lets out a soft sound, like a whimper. It’s halfway between pathetic and exhausting. Your core tightens a little.

“You’re so tense,” ― your voice is halfway above a whisper, electric ― “Relax a little,”

He wants to say he’s trying. He swears with everything he has he’s trying. But all he can think of is the pressure of your nimble hands, this skin on skin feeling - intimacy. The word feels like swallowing swords, so sharp and so deep. He can feel it in his chest, so suffocating. Overwhelming. He wants to relax but all he can think is how long it’s been.. to be touched. He hasn’t even had time to think about it. To wrap his head around something like that.

“Sorry,” comes out his mouth and you shake your head.

“It’s okay,” ― you press and he winces, then you pause and put one on ― “This is for you. I don’t want you to stress about it,”

It shocks him a little. It’s for him.. He feels feverish. He feels lightheaded and like he can’t breathe and your hands are hot they feel like steel rods. Molten against the skin of his back, you dance over every bump. He’s jagged from how often he’s been torn apart but you’re so unfazed. You touch every part, up his spine over his shoulders, down his arms.

It’s blistering to experience so much all at once. Like a flood, a natural disaster in the crevices of his heart. It’s overwhelming. The presence of your body, how the heat radiates. Your soft breaths, concentrated. The shuffle of your feet and the sounds of plastic being torn and placed. There’s nothing he can focus on other than you and how your hands are feeling his body. How small they are compared to his muscular form. How soft they are, scarless and warm. So inviting he can feel it stir in his stomach. He’s barely holding himself together, clenching his muscles so the blood stays in place.

“Is there anywhere I missed?”

No, not from what he can feel. His whole body has heat on the sorest parts of him.

“My shoulders.. the right one,” he rasps. You massage the muscle underneath until you hit his shoulders. His whole body is like stone, both stiff and muscular. You wince a little as you touch it, press on it. His whole body convulses at the feeling.

“There?”

He breathes in.

“Y-yeah, there,”

His normal numbness is replaced with oversensitivity. Every movement, or gust of wind, or touch makes him feel like his stomach is binded in knots. You don’t stop until every muscle that’s sore is covered in a soft white bandage. He tries his best to adjust to it, but he never does. When you’re all done, you smooth another hand over his skin, patting his back. He urges his disappointment down. Tries his best to leave it behind. His gut sinks.

“I think I got everything,” ― you whisper, almost noiseless, as you step away from him ― “If there’s anything else I can do for you, Midoriya - just let me know,”

He slips his shirt over his body and gathers his things. He watches you as you throw the little packets away and rearrange his bag. There’s a lingering feeling all over him, each nerve bristled. More awake than they’ve been in years. When you turn back around, his heart races even faster than before. Your eyes are unchanging, half-moons and delicate. Little rings of exhaustion and heavy lashes. He wants to do something for you, but he can’t think of anything.

“Can I have your number?”

You stumble a little at the question. You press your lips together and nod.

“Yeah,” ― you look down at your feet, shuffling nervously ― “My phones by the counter,”

The tension is so thick, he can feel it web in his lungs. Every breath he breathes smells like you, sweet. His whole body feels like it pulsates, the blood rushing in his skin. His ears pound and his footsteps feel heavy and the idea he has to leave and just go home after this makes him antsy.

You guide him back through the narrow halls after he puts his mask and hat on. He takes his bag from behind the counter and exits to the other side. No one’s come by and it doesn’t look like anyone will. You immediately grab your phone, and your hands feel like they’re buzzing.

“I’m not free this Sunday. I promised my mom I would help her with her tomato beds” ― he scratches the back of his neck, staring at the counter before braving face to meet your eyes ― “But next Sunday, if you still wanna teach me how to.. uhm, cook,”

You survey his expression, corners of your lips upturned.

“.. Yeah. Give me your phone and I can give you a time that works for me,”

He reaches for it, unlocking with a quick swipe, pulling his mask down for face ID. He hands it to you carelessly and you give him a little side-eye laughing. A pro-hero like him should be more careful. He watches as you type some words, scrolling through a sea of emoji and making sure your contact is all set up. You hand it back to him and he tucks it in his pocket.

“Text me that you made it home safe Mr. Deku,”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be saying to you?”

You shrug.

“Maybe. But I said it first, so you gotta do it okay? Otherwise how will I know my dame made it home safe,”

He laughs then blushes at being called a dame, shaking his head. At how ridiculous you make him feel at ease. He nods his head.

“Of course. You too, be safe getting home,”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Midoriya,”

“See you tomorrow,”

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so high strung

After his bus ride home, he finds himself alone with his thoughts for the very first time in a long time. Normally, after seeing you, his body doses itself on whatever sleepy chemical and he falls asleep promptly. But today, no matter what he does, he can’t seem to fall asleep. One hundred jumping jacks, a warm shower and warm glass of milk, counting to almost one thousand. He’s been at it for what feels like hours, trying his very best to sleep.

But he can’t turn his thoughts off. They’re especially loud and they seep themselves into every crevice of his mind, no stone unturned. He just wants to sleep. He wants it desperately but every time he reaches for it, eyelids heavy, his desire pulls him right out.

Deku’s relationship to sex is.. complicated. The older he got, the less he got off. Not because he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t have any desires but mostly because he was so swamped he didn’t have it in him to do it. He was drained enough, and if he wanted stress relief or to get the hormones out of his system - a couple hours of powerlifting seemed to do the trick. He’s had plenty of offers for sexual favors but he doesn’t really have any strings attached. The last time he had anyone.. touch him was in highschool when he lost his virginity to Uravity in his third year.

Those feelings washed out and he was left an adult with no practical experience in sex or dating. He has his fair share of fantasies, stuff that goes in his bank of materials when he finds the time for it. But he works now, so much and so often, he can only really get a quick one in when he’s in the shower. In the same way you might scratch an itch, it’s quick and easy. Not fulfilling but it gets the job done and settles his want for intimacy.

He hasn’t thought about it really at all in almost a year. There’s always so much to do, no time to think about anything but hero work. In the prime of his career, it’s even less than an afterthought.

But now it’s almost 7am and Izuku Midoriya is tossing and turning in his bed with a desire so raw and so hungry it makes his whole body burn up. He feels guilty to make you the object of his desires. It’s already hard enough for him to admit to himself what this all means. He still hasn’t and he isn’t sure when it’ll happen.

But the sun is rising and birds are chirping, and Deku has one hand pulling his shirt over his abdomen and another tugging at his cock, hard and thick and heavy. He hasn’t touched himself in so long and this yearning feeling doesn’t do anything to settle it. He spits into his palm and drips it on before setting a pace. His own hand runs carefully up his torso as he remembers your touch. So intimate and so patient. He doesn’t remember a time in his life where anyones touched him like that. You’re the first to ever treat him so gently. Your hands are so small compared to his, compared to him. He towers over you.

He knows all the little expressions you make - happy, sad, excited. He can almost see it when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, what you’d look like with your hands wrapped around his cock. How’d you stroke it so patiently, how soft they’d feel - it makes him fuck into his fist. Like if he goes at it hard enough it’ll start to feel like you. He wants to be sated so he holds off on cumming so quickly. He lets himself get impossibly hard and tugs his cock, edges himself till the tip of its stark red.

All he can think of is you. If he got lucky, maybe he could touch you in return. The thought sends him reeling, how your body would feel locked between his palms, massaging your skin. He wants you so bad and he wants to cum, fuck he wants to cum more than he wants anything else. He wants to cum with you, or on you, or inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” ― something guttural leaves his chest as he fantasizes about you calling his name. Not Deku or Midoriya but Izuku ― “Fuck, fuck,”

Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - it’s all he thinks of. Bouncing you so pretty on his lap while you call for him. Touching you in the same way you touched him, burning all over your skin. He wants it so bad he’s drooling. His whole body tightens and he spasms and his fist goes sloppy. He cums so hard he thinks he might see light, and it shoots so thick - all the way up to his chest. It comes out in ropes, hits his chin and keeps spurting until there’s nothing left. His body shakes, little tremors in between each breath. His breath is ragged like he’s been running a marathon. He’s sticky and he has to get up to wash his hands and clean himself off - feeling just slightly ashamed at what just occurred. He’s sure when he wakes up he’ll feel the full force of his embarrassment, and the thought alone makes his heart almost fall out of his ass.

More than anything else though, in the cool fluorescent lights of his bathroom - he examines himself. He hasn’t done that in a long time either, examine his state of being.

The nature of loneliness is that it seeps into you slowly. So slowly you don’t feel it at first. You become so isolated that you forget what it’s like to be in the company of someone. Something happens, and you don’t feel it for a brief moment, and it’s like you can breathe all over again. Someone welcomes you to themselves and you want to stay. When they smile, you want to share in their joy and when hardship troubles you, they carry their burdens on your shoulders. You meet someone, someday, and it clicks that they understand you and you are reminded of how lonely you are and have always been.

It’s nearing 8am and Deku stares at himself in the mirror for the very first time in weeks. The sun peers in through the side windows, yellow golden light making shadows all over his body. He looks at his eyes, his hands, his scars - the muscle patches and he thinks of you. And how the dreadful feeling he’s been avoiding this whole time finds him again. He knows what it’s like to be knocked on your ass, but this feels worse. Heavier, somehow.

Everything he’d been avoiding till now falls into his lap with a sudden force. It’s gut-wrenching but not agonizing. The sort of stomachache you get from knowing instead of not. He wants to go back to right before this, when he didn’t have a word. When he was ignorant to his own needs that he’d been putting off.

Japan’s Sweetheart, All-Mights Successor, Number One Hero - Izuku Midoriya is lonely.

Next Sunday comes so quickly he almost misses it.

It was a busy week, more so than usual. The beginning of the fall season means an increase in organized crime and a decrease in violent crimes. It’s less strenuous physically but an uprise in gang-related or villain organization killings tends to put him under an unusual amount of stress. The whole he was in and out of the agency, tracking evidence with the police and generally working longer hours. Sleeping in and napping at this desk, his assistant putting a jacket on his shoulders as he plants himself face down on his desk.

It’s more of an issue since Deku is... meticulous. He likes to be through in a way a lot of his peers just aren’t and it means he’s double, triple checking every single thing before it goes out in the reports. Tracing and retracing steps - generally stewing over hero work even when he’s asleep. Twice that week he had to jump out of his shower, naked and covered in soap, to jot down some leftover thoughts. No stone unturned and not a single path untaken.

In between all of that, he spends most of his time texting you. Or the other way around, where you give Deku silly updates about your life and he checks them like it’s what's pumping air in his lungs. What you ate and where, your commute to campus, the cat you saw on the street and thought about bringing home. He thinks you’ve caught onto the fact he doesn’t like talking too much about his job. He doesn’t mind it, hearing about things like that. It’s nice that he can reach you. That he doesn’t have to think twice about it and can message you silly little things.

You wonder if it bothers him but he always replies so enthusiastically - prompts the conversation further so he can keep it going. He fills you in on the details of his life much more sparsely, always ends his texts with a sweet little emoji and a polite “thanks for asking ☺” that sends you reeling. He’s cute. It’s a weird way to describe him but that's how you feel. He texts you dawn till dusk, each night sending a short text about everything he did that day. You start to get accustomed to his morning messages and late night texts. It’s the same for him, that soft feeling when he sees your messages.

Sunday shows up on Deku’s door much more quickly than he’s ready for. It’s the first time you’re spending official time together, and he tosses and turns the night before all night. He spends it staring at the ceiling, heart in his stomach - covering his face with his hands and rolling around his sheets. He’s inconsolable until exhaustion takes him out.

He wakes early to work-out and shower - going through his full and most thorough routine. He scrubs his whole body spotless, washes his hair with his expensive co-wash conditioner, and comes out soaking wet. He does the whole nine-yards, a nice and clean lotion, deodorant, his curl cream that he spends a whole scrunching until all the moisture is soaked in. He examines his whole body in the mirror with too much scrutiny before exiting.

He eats breakfast and tries to calm himself down all morning but to no avail, there’s no way to get around the fact he’s incredibly nervous. And now, he’s staring at his closet with regret because of how.. sparse it is. He’s never taken time to purchase anything.. nice unless it’s for a hero gala. His closet is split evenly between formal wear and athleisure but nothing casual really.

He sighs a little as he digs through the back of his closet. He manages to find an old pair of jeans - a light-washed pair that he fits a little tightly over his figure. He probably shouldn’t dress too nice, he doesn’t wanna look like a try-hard. But he also wants you to know he cares about being presentable.

He ends up with a white v-neck and a grey windbreaker overtop, snatching a headband to secure his hair so it stays out of his face. He wears a different pair of shoes, grey to match his jacket. He feels like he looks stupid, really. He takes the jacket on and off, switches shirts, but keeps the jeans and always ends up with the same outfit. He decides he’s being stupid about it at the very end, and leaves.

It’d be a lie to say that Deku hadn’t thought about today at all.

He has thought about it. Just a little. When he packs up to leave his house for the day, he grabs his bag of groceries for curry-making, his facemask and a hat, his water bottle and his keys. Including a set of keys for a brand new car, specially purchased by his assistant after he very awkwardly asked him about cars and how to go about buying one.

Deku has no experience with car stuff, and it was too embarrassing to ask Kacchan. And his assistant wouldn’t ask any questions about why his boss, who’d been commuting for almost 4 years, decided to buy a car. He also wouldn’t question why he wanted one that made him seem.. put together. And why he didn’t put a limit on the spending.

If Deku is anything these days, it’s well off. A car is only a mild dent in his expenses but the only thing he spends money on is his mom and sometimes some hero merch that goes on sale. If he finds a surplus, he writes off some donations and calls it a day.

He has to admit, it’s a bit much. Maybe more than a bit and it’s been a while since he’s driven. He normally ends up being designated driver when he goes out with his friends, and one too many times - he’s dragged out drunk employees from bars when they’ve had a little too much during company dinners.

He leaves the house in something of a hurry. It’s cloudy above, all grey and dreary. Clouds stick to each other in big clumps as he walks into his garage. Over the years, it’s just been a collection of old knick-knacks and tools. It’s the first time he’s used it for its purpose.

He slides in the front seat and turns the ignition, listening to the revv. He does a little laugh at how truly ridiculous it is - the briefest moment of self-awareness passing by in a flash. He uses his phone to open his garage door and close it before backing out and heading down the road.

Your apartment complex is exactly two blocks from the convenience store, like you’d promise. He parks on the side of the road, punching in his time on the parking meter before grabbing his things from the front seat. He goes through everything, including a small welcoming gift from his mom in the form of some pickled radish.

He jogs to your complex and heads into the lobby - finding the machine and pressing the little button on the door. He leans forward, clearing his throat.

“Hey, I’m here,”

A beat passes before he hears your reply.

“I’ll let you up now,”

There’s a loud buzz and unlocking sound. Deku steps inside and is greeted with an elevator. Third floor, 4th door on the right. He repeats it to himself as he steps onto the elevator, a soft yellow light illuminating him as he feels his weight press down. He presses number three and waits - listening to elevator music for what feels like ages. It stops at the second floor and an old lady enters. He bows immediately, out of habit. She’s small and frail, carrying just one bag in her hands.

“Oh.. my. What a handsome young man,” ― she comments, give him a once over ― “You must be visiting on the third floor,”

His eyes go wide.

“Oh! Thank you and yes, I’m here to see a.. friend,” he trails off. She gives him a warm smile, laughing.

“A friend, is it? Well. Tell her I say hello. All that young lady does is go to work and go to school. It’s nice to see her.. friend visiting her,”

He blushes a little at the implication. His skin grows a little hot as she laughs again.

“Ah.. yes ma’am,”

By the time the conversation is over, the elevator doors open to the third floor. Apartment doors lined up stretch across the way, and he turns around to give the old lady another bow. She gives him a wave before the doors close again and with that she’s gone. He’s still a little flustered by the interaction so he gathers himself before finding your door. Fourth door down, he walks towards it.

He stares at the wood, painted a dark blue with a little decoration on it. Another lungful of air and with a shaking hand, he gives three meek knocks. He waits a moment, and hears some rustling on the other side and in another few, it swings open.

When he finds you in the doorway, he feels his lungs go short of air. It almost feels like something out of a movie. You’re wearing an apron and casual clothes - and he realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen all of you out of uniform. A cotton t-shirt and half-way nice sweatpants on your hips - you greet him a little out of breath. A sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, you still smile when you see him.

“Hey, sorry,” ― you wheeze, brushing something out of your eyes ― “Was trying to get my fitted sheet on before you came in. It didn’t agree with me,”

There is something about seeing you that makes Deku’s heart feel like it’s taking a seat at the dinner table. He really can’t describe it, doesn’t know how to word it poetically or pace it in a way that makes sense. He’s always been good at controlling himself. He’s seldom anything but idle. His feelings are absorptions, the world around him shapes the clay of his very nature. Without rhyme or reason or anything in between - he’s always thought to trust it. To let it happen. To let things happen to him, just so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.

His everything can be traced back to a sense of justice ingrained in him so deeply, there is no way to know himself without it. His feelings aren’t his, he knows this. He is simply an amalgam - the corkboard in which the hero world pins their travesties on. In his whole life, all the years he’s been alive, he’s known this much about himself. From the inside out and back again, he knows he is wholly a reflection. His sense of self is fragile at best.

Seeing you ignites in him the strangest feelings. His feelings - so uniquely his that he doesn’t even know how to feel them. How to navigate these emotions that fester in his heart, and how just your presence has this guiding hand. How his heart takes a seat at the dinner table, the kind of meal where there is only a single light and another person. In a moment so brief, he zones out and looks at you and there is this ache. A reminder that he is so real and so human it rubs him raw. He stares at you dazed and you smile, unknowingly, and chat to him about everything you like.

How strange is love but a reminder that you exist.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” ― you shake your head a little, before stepping aside ― “Welcome to my humble abode! I bought some slippers this weekend that should fit you,”

He smiles at you, and it’s warm and inviting.

“Yeah.. thanks,”

He takes his shoes off and puts them on the rack before slipping his feet into the house slippers you’ve set out. They’re a bright green, covered in little frogs. He laughs a little at them, as you step beside him. He gives it a look around - the place looks just like you. It’s well-lived in, like a home and not just a place to live in. There’s random knick-knacks everywhere, a consistent color scheme, and other little decorations. A stack of books in one place, an open card-game.

“You might wanna take your jacket off,” ― you say amused, watching as he slides it over his shoulders ― “Today you’re my student,”

He laughs at that and takes his jacket off, where you let it rest on the arm of one couch. He picks up the bags you’d asked him for.

“My mom told me I should bring something so she packed up some pickled radish for you,” ― he says sheepishly, handing you the bag ― “She was excited to hear that I was spending my weekend with someone who isn’t her,”

You grab the bag and peer inside, a jar of pickled radishes - purple in hue, waiting for you. You look between it and him, smiling a little.

“You.. told your mom you were coming to see me?”

He realizes a moment too late what it sounds like. His green eyes go wide as he stutters over his next sentence.

“I tell my mom everything,”

You snort a laugh at him, grabbing the rest of his bags. He gives you a little pout, nose wrinkling in embarrassment.

“Well.. tell your mom I said thank you. Maybe take her some curry home and show off your new skills,” ― you tease, easy and effortless, but you’re staring at him a little longer than you need too ― “I appreciate it,”

He gives you a lopsided smile.

“C’mere, the kitchens this way. I’m gonna worry you’re not gonna fit,” you confess. He has to duck underneath, just a little bit - and he doesn’t have to do much to touch the ceiling. He fits just fine, much to your relief. He looks in your kitchen, quaint. There’s a window above the sink filled with fresh herbs in a nice little planter with a light above. A cat timer.

“How skilled are you at cooking, would you say? Like.. none at all? Or just not very much?”

He scratches the back of his neck, trying to remember the last time he made something.

“Uhm.. we made curry during a training camp in highschool, but I think that’s the last time,”

You give wide eyes before shaking your head.

“You’re hopeless.. but that’s why I’m here,”

He watches as you roll your sleeves up as if you’re getting into gear. He’s glad he wore short sleeves.

“Wash your hands first,” you tell him. He immediately steps the sink and washes his hands as he hears some clatter in the background. You’re looking through your oven. He watches as you grab a cutting board and a small knife.

“All clean?”

He nods. You smile at him.

“I got everything ready before you got here because I had.. a feeling you would be very clumsy. But I will whip you into shape,” you scold, stern. He blushes a little.

“Yes ma’am,”

You giggle a little bit. On the kitchen island is a bunch of ingredients lined up on the table.

“We’re gonna make Japanese curry - it’s a little sweeter and milder than Thai or Indian kinds. It’s a lot easier since the roux is premade. And it’ll last you some days in the fridge. Today we’ll make it with chicken since I assume you need protein,” ― you explain to him pointedly. When you look over at him, he looks so concentrated, you almost laugh ― “We’ll cut the vegetables first, and then the meat. After everything is prepped, we’ll work on the sauce and cook everything. Sound doable?”

“I’ll try my best,”

You frown at him.

“Come on Mr. Deku, where’s the confidence?”

He laughs aloud when you call him that, straightening up a little bit. He gives you a one hand salute and you fall out. It’s so warm.. so welcoming.

“We’re not gonna do anything really complicated because it’s your first time. I’ll cut an onion and then you’ll do the next one. If you do a good job.. I’ll give you a pack of electrolyte gels,” you grin.

“Wow.. what a prize. Sure wouldn’t wanna miss on that,”

“Exactly,” ― you take an onion and steady it on the cutting board ― “Now watch me okay? First you wanna cut it half and place the flat edge down on the board,”

He follows along, making mental notes in his head.

“Now you see this part? This is the root end. We’re gonna do a large dice, so make sure you don’t cut it off. We can cut off this paper bit at the end though.. then we’re just gonna go through the middle. See that?”

Another nod, he watches as the knife slices through the middle part. You don’t cut the ends.

“Now it’s in half, so you’re gonna cut in the middle of those. 3 cuts vertically, 3 horizontally. You got it?”

“I.. think so. It doesn’t look too bad so far,”

“Good. I’m gonna show you the speed I normally do this at but you can go slow. We have all day,”

Warmth spreads through his whole body at the words “We have all day,” so soothing to his heart. His stomach fills with butterflies, loud and desperate but he nods.

“Yeah.. right,”

You show him this time, the normal speed at which you cut through your vegetables. His eyes go wide at the speedy sound of the cutting board. He wants to tell you to be careful but he doesn’t think he has the right.

“Okay. I’m gonna put these in the bowl over here and now it’s your turn,”

You switch sides, carefully moving the first half of the onion into a small bowl before placing the next one. For a man.. a hero, so tall and powerful - he looks unusually nervous. He goes for the knife, but picks it up so unsafely, you gasp aloud.

“Woah there.. getting a little eager, are we?”

He puts the knife down like it’s evil and steps away, and you breathe a laugh through your nose.

“Here.. hold your hand out,”

He does and you carefully take the knife and place it in his palms. You use your hand to curl his fingers around him, then gently guide his hands. He stutters a little and grips the butt of the knife more tight than he needs.

“Look.. see. You have to handle it like this so you don’t cut yourself. Go slowly,”

“Oh.. that feels a lot better,”

You laugh again and he gets to cutting.

He goes slow.. very slow. It feels awkward at first but he gets through it. He manages to cut the first onion into all of it’s pieces with all of his fingers together. It takes at least 10 minutes, yes - but your cheerleading makes him feel good about it.

You hold your hand to high-five him when it’s all over and he laughs and high-fives you back. He’s so pretty when he laughs, all crinkled eyes and summery - you stumble when you hear him, flushing.

“Onto the next,”

You guide him through how to cut potatoes, then carrots. After your demonstrations on the cutting board, Deku takes at least double the time you do to cut each thing. But you cheer him on each time, floating around him and never leaving him too long to his own devices. You show him how to cut everything, even garlic (which he likes because he just has to smash at it to get it small) and eventually all the veggies are chopped.

You don’t have him touch the chicken, say it’s probably too much for the first time - but you demonstrate it. He takes note of every step, hearing words he’s never heard in his entire life. You have to let the fond build, the veggies sweat, and all sorts of other things. He learns you normally don’t measure, so every measurement out of your mouth is more a guess than anything. You promise to write down a recipe for him, anyways.

It starts smelling good after you add the onions - like his mothers kitchen. He hasn’t had a proper homemade meal in a week and his stomach growls with intensity. He watches as you build a sauce out of thin air. A curry roux cube, 4 cups of water, some sugar, some soy-sauce and ketchup. It fascinated him.. seemingly random things all coming together and making something so familiar. It looks good. He feels good that he helped even a little.

It’s taken a while, maybe 2 hours and some change, though he’s sure if he did it alone - it’d be even longer. For you, it’s probably the longest it’s ever taken, but if that’s the case, it doesn’t show on your face.

In the last leg of the curry making, you direct him to wear all the cutlery in your little apartment.

“There’s some beer in the fridge too, if you want. Other stuff too, but I thought a drink would be good for relaxing,”

“A beer would be great. Do you want one too?”

“Hm.. yeah, actually. That’d be awesome,, thank you Midoriya,”

He waves of your thank you and goes off to rummage your kitchen. He knows how to set a table at least. He grabs the beers first, placing them on coasters, before going to get the rest. Two plates and two spoons, and a bowl to keep some sides in. He sets everything up all nice, clearing the space out.

He hears the stove click off, getting out of your way as you put on some oven mitts. You take a deep breath as you lift, the savory smell filling the small kitchen.

“Woo, it’s hot,” ― you huff, setting it down on a mat on the counter ― “It’s still burbling so I’ll give it a second before I serve it,”

Next, you bring the white rice that's been sitting on the counter since before he got here, on warm for who knows how long. You pick it up out of the rice cooker and set it next to the curry, hurrying to get another bowl. You portion out some pickled radishes in the smaller bowl. and then spoon rice into the bigger one. You put one portion on Dekus and one on yours.

“Don’t be shy about getting more,”

You pour it out evenly, a stream of hot curry surrounding pristine white rice. It looks and smells good, unexpectedly. He’s so surprised it’s not a disaster, he laughs as he watches you do it. Piece of chicken thigh, potatoes, and onions float in the sauce and he can barely stop himself from eating.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had something someone else made,”

“Aw c’mon, you made this!”

He gives you a look and you laugh as you spoon yourself a portion.

“Okay.. we made it. But you helped! And you learned a lot, right?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I definitely learned a lot but you’re the teacher,” ― he leans forward, palm on his cheek as he stares at you. Straight out of a daydream, painfully handsome ― “How’d I do teach?”

You mimic him teasingly, legs crossed, tapping your foot in the air.

“Hm.. I’d give you a solid 8/10 for your first time. No cuts, and your chopping was actually pretty good,”

He brightens at the praise.

“Really? Good enough for electrolyte gel packs?”

You laugh so hard you bend over yourself.

“Yeah.. yeah definitely.”

“Nice job, Midoriya.”

“All thanks to my teacher, super wise.”

You bow your head a little and he claps for you.

Wordlessly, he cracks both of your bottles open with seamless strength, returning them to their spot on the table.

“It should be cool enough to eat now,”

He bows his head and so do you.

“Itadakimasu,”

___

He feels warm.

After your meal in the afternoon, you and Deku continue to drink into the late night. He makes sure to watch himself - knowing he’ll have to drive himself home. You drink just a little more, not enough that you’re a mess. But your defences are lowered, and you’re sleepy. Maybe even a little giggly too. Beer bottle sit on the coffee table that separates the two of you

You sit adjacent to each other. He has his legs crossed, table pushed back so he can get all of him comfortably between the couch and table. You have your knees up, chin resting against one of them as your arms wrap around your legs. You’re all smiles, all warmth.

“I had fun today,” you muse, voice softer than a whisper. He glances at you, nodding.

“Me too,” ― he admits, voice barely above a whisper ― “It’s been a long time since I’ve spent time without someone.”

“Aw, what, your mom doesn’t count?”

He laughs a little.

“Just teasin’. Me too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. It’s just work, then school, then work. All on a loop. I don’t get much time off.”

“...Is there a particular reason for it?”

“Tryna get to know me, Midoriya?” you tease. He chuckles.

“Caught red-handed.”

It makes your heart flutter. To hear him tell him to your face that he’s interested in you. You rub your feet together nervously.

“I don’t see a lot of my parents. I’ve always taken care of things on my own. It’s hard, but..” ― you confess to him voice, weary, and worn out ― “‘s not all bad. Stressful. It gets lonely, but I think it’ll be okay in the end”

“What about you, Pro-Hero Deku?,”

He laughs uncomfortably, a tight lipped smile on his mouth.

“What about me?”

“D’you get lonely a lot..?”

His gut reaction is almost violent, a spear through his chest. The blood is already in his mouth, the bitterness of heroism deep in his gut. He shakes his head at the panic and how it stirs inside of him.

“No.. I.. well -.”

“You must, right?” ― you let out a soft yawn, face so squished it’s hard to hear you talk. You struggle to get the words out ― “You’re the number one hero, All Might successor. Must be busy, right?”

“You should sleep soon,” ― his voice is strained.. it aches in his throat. He can’t tell you to stop, but he can’t bear to listen either so he gets ready to appease you ― “You’ve had a lot to drink,”

“I’m sober, Midoriya. Mostly, anyway. Just sleepy.. I’m just sayin.”

“I notice it in you sometimes,” ― you hum, lifting your head to look at him ― “You always hesitate to say things. But.. ‘sokay to admit things are hard. Life is hard for your average schmuck like me.”

He laughs a little.

“You’re not a schmuck.”

“Maybe not but I’m no hero, either. It’s hard for me and I bet it’s hard for you too. That’s okay, you know? You’re still.. still a person. And to me, you’re just Midoriya. A guy with a hard job. And cool scars.”

He stares down at the beer bottle he’s been nursing in his lap for god knows how long and feels something shift inside of him. It’s tectonic, the way his whole body shifts its weight. A steady build, like a geyser - everything coming to a head inside of him. It’s so heavy, this burden that makes his shoulders slump. He really doesn’t mean to get choked up like this. He’ll blame the alcohol but there’s more to it than that. Much more about why he’s splitting apart at the seams.

It must be that you are nothing like anyone he knows. And it breaks him, tears him apart like how people crack eggs - he feels soft and yellow like a yolk, any moment and he’ll break. He doesn’t know how it happens, but he cries. Quiet and steady at first but slowly he can’t keep holding it. It’s a crescendo, a cacophony of all of his misery. He cries then sobs. So loudly it’s almost violent. It cracks and thunders, and suddenly he’s an open wound on your living room floor. He finds himself sobbing so pathetically he doesn’t know what to do. The backs of his palms are rubbing his eyes and in between each choked breath, he’s trying to tell you he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

But suddenly, your body is pressed around him. You’ve slotted yourself next to him on your knees and you pull his whole body onto you. The weight of his torso ends up in your arms. You hold him and you run your hands over your back and he cries and it’s so ugly. It’s ugly and loud.

He’s so raw from emotions and all he can hear is you and your voice, shushing him quietly. He clings to you for life. It’s so unusual for him.. to cry like this. Over something like this. Maybe because it’s the first time in four years he’s admitted to himself something so small.

It’s so hard. God.. it’s all so hard.

He sobs into your neck, uncontrollable and you don’t say a word. You melt your body into his.

Before he knows it, your body is shaking too. You’re crying and clinging to each other and everything in the world is blind with your tears. You hold each other desperately, your loneliness stuck together like it can’t be pulled apart.

On the floor of your living room, the rain outside pours in heavy sheets. And Izuku Midoriya cries into your shoulder, tipsy and tender from the force of your words. His stomach is tied and eventually he can’t help but cling to you. He wants to hold you in his arms but he doesn’t know how to ask. How does he approach you? Why can't he take the hand you’ve put out for him?

“Midoriya,” ― you whisper hoarsely, stroking his hair ― “You can trust me.”

He sobs a little harder at that. You almost don’t hear him at first, the way his voice falls apart as you listen to it.

“I’m sorry for crying.”

You can’t help but laugh. You keep holding him, just a little tighter.

“It’s okay,” you hum “It’s gonna be okay,”

He believes you when you say it. He believes you when you hold him. He believes you when you say he can trust you, and with every part of him - he wants to love you. He wants to give it all back tenfold. This selfish feeling that festers in the cracks of his heart, this yearning - he doesn’t have any choice but to call it love.

If he were more sober, and less tired - he’d probably be losing his mind at the thought. To call something love, to call this love. It makes him feel like he’s losing his mind but right now all he can focus on is you and the way your heart rests. He’s thinking of your hands and how gentle they feel on his skin and how he’s holding you. How relieving it is to hold someone.

“It’s hard sometimes,” ― he confesses, all jagged edges ― “I don’t regret it.. not ever. But it’s hard sometimes.”

You run your fingers through his curls just a little, soft and gentle.

“Yeah.. I bet it is.”

___

Izuku Midoriya believes firmly in one thing.

He believes love, above all else, must be a choice.

At the very least, you must have some choice in love. If you intend to love someone, or love anything for a long time - you have to choose it everytime. He thinks loving people is like that. A series of decisions we make in order to show or prove it. We choose love. It finds us and then we get to choose how we harbor it. He thinks he’s something of a hopeless idealist, in every aspect of his life. About everything in the world, he wants to do it in the most poetic way. He wants his whole life to be shrouded in the feeling that he’s doing something beautiful.

He could call justice something of a first love. In that way he does everything for it. That he chooses to fight for it, to contribute to it everyday he’s alive.

He thinks love itself is a choice but he thinks falling in love is the only decision in your life you have no control over. He thinks loving you, in particular, is something that happened to him rather than something he looked for. Falling for you the first time he saw you, he had no part in it.

But hopelessly and endlessly searching for you - just maybe that had something to do with him.

After the night in your apartment, you make him comfortable and send him home with some curry and warm regards. Of all the nights he’d gone home feeling lonely, that night had been the hardest. There was this desire out of his control that he’d been ignoring for so long but it all came to a tide that night. The longing was borderline unbearable and since then, he’s had to take a long hard look at himself and at this.. all of this.

Izuku Midoriya can admit to himself after all of this that he’s a little helplessly in love with you. He hasn’t stopped seeing you, either. On Sundays, every other Sunday, he drops by your place for little cooking lessons. He misses when he was ignoring it and he could just enjoy your company but now your every movement has something feeling hot under his skin. He finds himself daydreaming about you on the job and his heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of his chest.

But, this is the first time he’s ever been..in love. It’s the first time he’s ever felt something so strongly and it’s more terrifying than it is romantic. He feels like he’s been blindsided by something and he stays up into the late hours of the night, counting off all the reasons it won’t work out.

It’s what he’s best at, thinking of every possible outcome. You could always find someone who could be with you more and move on, and maybe you’re not even interested in Deku. It’s always possible you just think you are. He thinks a lot of things are possible and he focuses on the worst case scenario each time. It’s easier not to set up expectations that way. If anything happens, he’ll be ready for it.

But with you, the worst case scenario is that he confesses and you reject him - and you disappear out of his life. He knows rationally that it’s unlikely, but he thinks about it and something in him breaks profoundly. There’s another situation where you remain friends but you fall for someone else and it makes him almost sick.

All of it is gut-wrenching. For so long, he’s had any number of defenses up. A busy schedule, the burden of work, short answers and the redirection of those prying questions - he’s gotten so good at making sure no one gets past them. It’s rare that anyone has even noticed. His heart is so many layers deep. Only a few people know, namely Kacchan and his mom and All Might.

And then there’s you, with soft hands, tearing through all the ground and rooting him up from Earth. You who digs his heart from the ground and holds it up to the warmth of your love.

It burns so hot he feels like he can’t get close to it. When he thinks of you, he thinks of all of his short-comings. He thinks of all the things he can’t be for you.

But he can’t get himself to let go either, and when your hands reach into his ribs and take his heart, he doesn’t shake you off to stop it. He lets it happen, lets you consume his every breath. All over his body are the sensations of you and your touches - ghostly in his memory.

Izuku Midoriya thinks love is a choice and he knows he can’t take back the one to love you.

He just.. doesn’t know what to do with all of it.

___

The day is so long it bleeds.

That’s the best way he knows how to describe it, really. It’s longer than ever because daylights all soaked up before 8pm, and it’s so dark it webs across the city without patience. After a day like today, it’s all he can see for miles. Darkness for miles and miles - the path of it sunken and terrible.

He’s had a lot of days like this in his life, as a hero - there are always lives you can’t save. People who don’t make it out of the disaster, people you miss, people who get trapped. Dekus sees things so gruesome it makes his skin crawl, seeping into him while he’s awake. He has nightmares and he takes medication to manage all of it. Goes to therapy when he can. No amount of conversation could really make it go away but it’s nice to tell someone his feelings.

Deku still doesn’t know how to deal with something so inevitable such as loss. As a hero it’s never easy.

After months of stagnation in the villain case, the one that he had to solve with Kacchan, there was finally word of activity. Normally in situations like that - groups will simply disband or dissolve because of the lack of members and it goes cold before anything else can happen. It’s rare that anything ever comes out of it later, it just sort of disappears after the first big arrest.

He figures that would be the case today too. After getting on his shift, about an hour into it, he gets pings from every direction. A villain attacks on the east side, only a few blocks from his route. It’s an emergency, CODE E - meaning it was a big mass of destruction and that other heroes were on the way.

He was on it before he could think twice, feet moving faster than his head as he activates a steady 8% for speed, jumping over buildings and skipping traffic until he ends up on the overhead of the scene. From the view above he can practically taste the chaos. It’s a big build-up of cop-cars around the scene. There’s people everywhere, first responders, evacuating all nearby residents. There’s already been some explosions and destruction but no serious injuries.

When he finally gets down, he meets with the police chief, Kacchan, and Todoroki - all of them breaking down the situation carefully to him. He comes to learn that the leader of the organization is holed up in one of those buildings and that he’s hysterical.

Human beings are incredibly fragile. They crack and shatter and splinter like glass under the pressure of life. Every person in the world is capable of bad things. The unimaginable becomes possible when you remember how briefly we bask in goodness. It’s not that humanity is evil but it’s fragile.

He learns about the boy inside - he’s young, just 18. He’s a highschool student. He learns about his whole life, abusive family and suffering. His list of traumas make his gut wrench just to listen too and Kacchan has that solemn look in his eyes that he only gets when he knows things will end badly. He details to Deku all of his miseries and Deku listens like his heart is made of lead.

“So where are we?”

Kacchan tells Deku that he’s inconsolable and his name is Yamato and doesn’t say a word more. Deku gives him that pleading look that he always has when it gets to be like this, but Todoroki is quick to put a hand on his shoulder and shake his head. It’s not in them to give up on anyone, hero or villain - so it makes his stomach clench.

Deku gets told to help the other heroes clear the area out and take care of civilians and with that he’s sent away. It tears him apart, the knowing and the dread. The dread of it all is so, so heavy.

At 7pm, the sun is set completely, and he gets word that he’s dead. It’s over, just like that. In a moment another person - gone , and his name was Yamato and he was 18. Just like that. Human life is so fragile. We only live briefly and we do it so delicately it’s impossible to know the outcome. Deku thinks of all the things he could’ve been and he finds himself on a bench in front of his agency, crying his eyes out for a kid he doesn’t know.

Loss is always a part of the job. There will always be someone, something that you can’t change. He knows it’s important to remember the good things but today, the world is dark at 7pm and Deku is wiping his tears with the back of his gloved hands. He’s sad about all of it. He’s sad he couldn’t change anything. The helpless feeling about this job and the loneliness. It will never be enough no matter how much he fights. There will always be a life he can’t save.

He’s told to go home that day, a little earlier than normal. It’s ironic, on a day he knows you don’t have work. After everything happens, he takes their advice and goes back to his agency. All he hears when he’s there is condolences. They know how it is.. how he is on days like today.

The day is so long it bleeds. When darkness hits, it still feels like time is stuck in the same place. It dries and scabs and itches.

He’s planning on going home today and resting. The most you know is that he has a day off, he got sent home earlier because of a case but he hasn’t told you the details.

He gets a text from you not long after he tells you.

from 7/11 girl ; oh! do you wanna come over for dinner then?

He stares at the message for a long while. It’s a moment in which his body moves before he can think

to 7/11 girl ; i’d love too.

He ends up at your doorstep with all of his belongings still in his arms.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other, a shaky breath enters his lungs. His heart rate is rapid and the feeling of regret is tying his hands to his sides, finding it impossible to reach his hand up and knock. His head is going a million miles an hour, racing with the thoughts of remorse. Reprimanding himself for being selfish, trying to see you in this state. He should just go home and call it a night, there’s still time for that.

Another text pings his phone, startling him out of his thoughts.

from 7/11 girl ; i’m glad you’re coming over. i was getting a little lonely today.

He takes a deep breath, just trying to gather himself, and raises his trembling hand to knock on the door. He winces at the meekness of the sound, unconfident. Each second that passes by is another of him contemplating leaving. He could leave it all here, he could leave, he could leave, he could leave.

The door swings open, and there you are in a big comfortable hoodie and shorts that hit your knee and mismatched socks. Deku stares at you with wide emerald eyes and you look back at him, smiling with your teeth.

He can’t leave.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. He trembles like a telephone wire in a storm, uncentered and shaking desperately. You catch it, that despair in his eyes before he can blink it away and it has you stopping dead in your tracks. All of his things are still in his arms and he’s covered in grime. His hand quivers as it clutches his bags to his body. He racks his eyes over you, no words coming. Just a gaping mouth, gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to speak,

“Midoriya,” ― you press forward, brows furrowed together ― “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? No, not particularly. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again and he stares at you for a long while. Slowly at the seams is where it always starts, falling into nothingness.

Love is an abyss, he thinks to himself. That must be where the phrase falling in love comes from. He is on the cliff as he looks at you, rock crumbling and breaking beneath his feet the longer he stands in your doorway. The uncertainty that comes from that darkness, looming and inviting. It calls to him with the voice loud enough to sweep nations to dust. He sees you, and you look like a clump of stars - burning hotly in the stark obsidian night. You are the silver lining, the muse, the answer. To Izuku Midoriya, you are everything and some change. You’re the girl he meets at 7/11, the one who puts muscle patches on his back, and teaches him to cook and makes him feel like he exists. So alive it almost makes him sick. He is nauseous at the way love has him acting.

There is a brief moment before you jump into open waters, or darkness, or anything that requires you to fall with no promise of land - that your head is completely clear. Only after you’ve leaped, the action set in motion, do you know what the right choice was.

Deku understands it briefly, the cost of his actions. The consequence of choosing love, taking it - the hand held out. He understands, for just one moment, that love is one step in the door. That love is right there but he has to reach for it, to feel it. He won’t know unless he jumps.

“Midoriya..?”

He reaches for you. He steps one foot in the door and drops his bags to the side of him and he shuts the door and he reaches for love.. for you. Just this one time.

His arms wrap around your shoulders like vines and he clings to you for dear life. His face is buried in the nape of your neck and his body feels like it’s submerging in the darkness. He feels like he’s falling, so far he can’t see what was before this. He holds you tight and your hands snake around his waist.

“Midoriya,”

“Izuku” he corrects hoarsely.

“Izuku..”

You decide that the first thing he should do is bathe.

“You can take a shower in my..”

His eyes are round and worrisome. Gruesomely exhausted. You don’t think you could tell him to be in there alone in good conscience - no matter how willingly he would accept. He hasn’t stopped touching you in some way, something silently inside of him aching to hold you. You can feel all the places he holds back, a violent force. With Midoriya.. with Izuku - you find sometimes you have to force yourself inside of his boundaries.

He’s holding your hand and staring at it, dark rounds underneath his lower lash line. You reach your hand out a little further as he sits, and press your palm against his cheek. Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes and he smiles a little.

“We can take a bath together,”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

“You won’t,”

It takes a little convincing and you worry he’s too tender for it but he just nods and closes his eyes. Leaning into your touch, he moves his mouth to kiss your wrist and then looks at you as you flush. Still uncomfortable with this touch - the intimacy of his hold has your breath shaking in your lungs.

“C’mon with your clothes. My bathroom is pretty big so you should fit in it just fine but it might be a bit tight,”

He nods, absent and soft. You watch as he takes his things from his bag and stands - eyes immediately searching for you like a small animal. He takes your hands in his but nudges you to guide him and gives you a soft smile as you flush. Just moments ago he was clinging to you but it feels different somehow.

You lead him to your bathroom and it’s a nice size. It’s a little bit wider, with a small closet and a tub that he thinks you could both fit in. There’s a big, wide mirror on the wall and on the counter there’s skincare and makeup. He smiles at it, only frowning when you let go of his hand. He watches as you run the bathwater hot and go into your closet for towels and soaps of all kinds. He stands awkwardly, his own nerves just starting to catch up to him. It’s mostly overshadowed with desire.. with yearning that stretches across the sun at least 3 times.

You’re still turned around as you speak.

“You should.. uhm.. undress,” you say, stiff as a board. His eyes go wide and he flushes a bit.

“Oh! Uhm.. yeah, right,” ― he coughs, heart in his throat ― “Are you…?”

You nod, meek.

“Yeah..”

He can’t mask his shock, nor the immediate twitch in his jeans that he spends a few minutes managing before carefully undressing. His shirt first comes off, slides over his shoulder blades and comes completely off.

After that, it’s his pants and socks, until he’s left with nothing but boxers hanging on his hips. He hesitates a little to take them off, so he does it with a deep breath. He’s self-conscious of it, his physique so bare. He doesn’t remember the last time anyones seen him completely naked and it makes his heart stammer uncomfortably.

You turn to him, shyly grazing over at him before closing your own eyes and taking your clothes off. Deku watches you with a bated breath, mouth catch flies as you slide your hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath - same as your basketball shorts. They simply fall to the floor and you’re naked. Your whole body is under his eyes with scrutiny and you find yourself covering your body with your hands almost inadvertently.

It comes out as a clumsy and confused gasp - with more vigor than he means.

“You’re beautiful,” and you can tell he means it with the way he blinks and just looks, over again. You flush a little, wanting the Earth to swallow you up. But he’s so.. gentle. So easy.

“...You should get in the water,” ― you tell him, reaching for something ― “I picked a bathbomb out so..”

He stops, lips turned in the corner before nodding. The water is hot and full and Deku steps inside of it, bending down and securing himself to the wall with the showerhead and faucet. The water relaxes the tenseness out of his muscles almost immediately, eyes going heavy. He looks at you, and watches you prepare yourself. You drop your hands and steel your nerves, softly walking towards him.

“D’you want me to sit on the other side…?”

He shakes his head, feeling hesitant.

“No uhm.. if it’s okay. I thought you could sit.. y’know. So I can.. hold you,” he explains sheepishly. You nod.

“That’s okay. I’d.. I think I’d like that,”

So you do. He widens the space between his legs as much as possible and lets you step inside the warm water. It sloshes around the tub, just a little as you adjust but eventually, you end up right between his legs bare naked. He has to shake any inappropriate thoughts away, especially with you so close in his reach. He watches idly as you reach over the side of the tub for a bath caddy you placed on the floor, just before getting in. You take the bath bomb from the middle compartment, and drag it to the water.

You hold it as it fizzes, still a big gap between you and him. He stares at you for a while. It’s tense, steamy air clouding your air and inhibitions.

“You can come closer,” he assures you, voice barely there. You freeze, looking over at him from one of your shoulders and you nod. Your lips are tucked between your teeth but you scoot back and you can feel.. him a little more. More than anything, you can feel the way his arms lock around your middle. Your back is on his chest, his arms circled tight around your waist. He tucks his chin over one of your shoulders and leans you back into him - just enough. Just so it’s comfortable and close.

It’s more intimate than everything you’ve ever felt in your life. The touch of his naked body, scarred skin - your hands are still holding the bath bomb. He presses his cheek to your shoulder as he watches. He’s amused by how the colors turn indefinitely. It smells a little bit like vanilla, a soft sugary scent permeating through the water. It’s green. He wonders if that was on purpose.

The weight of you rests in the crooks of him. You reside in this space in his arms, intimately. Your skin is soft to the touch and the water is warm - with two bodies it never gets too cold. For a while, all he does is hold you. He holds you indiscriminately, nothing extra to his actions. Not lust nor tragedy but just something pure and basic, the need to feel love through someone else's hands. Skin to skin, soft and gentle. It’s quiet and wordless.

With your body resting on his, you lift your head to look up at him briefly. You watch him with interest.

“What happened today, Izuku?”

He lets out a deep sigh, his voice scratchy and worn.

“On the job today.. one of the villains. Uhm.. he was really young. No one could talk him out of it no matter what he tried,” ― he tells you wearily ― “He.. didn’t make it. It just happened and then everything just kept happening. Loss and stuff like that is normal for hero work, but I can never.. get used to it.”

“...That’s good, that you can’t” you reply. He looks confused.

“That’s good..?”

“It means you have your humanity still intact inside of you. If you still get sad over people, no matter how mundane, then it means you still haven’t been.. desensitized from all of it. Means that you still care,” you explain to him gently “It was hard wasn’it?”

His voice trembles as he holds you closer, so impossibly close to him. The world is dark but you are like sunlight, brilliant. He mumbles something under his breath, rubbing his face into your skin like a cat might. You find it endearing.

“Yeah it was.. It was hard,” ― his voice is a breeze, feathery ― “It was a really hard day today and I was just gonna… I was gonna go home and then you texted me.”

You smile a little at that. It goes quiet again.

“Can I.. tell you something?”

“Yeah.. what is it?”

He shifts, and his voice becomes slow - it’s like the moment right before a fan's blades swirl. That moment where everything feels like it’s being set in motion, the drag of it. The inertia that builds - this is the very start of something so beautiful it spins.

“I love you,” ― he whispers, right into your shoulder blade with the weight of a million lives - and his too, right in the crook of your neck ― “I love you..”

The weight of the world, of heroism, or selfless acts and martyrdom - all of it falls onto the water below. He’s so tired, worn out. You think this is his way of asking you, if it’s alright to share this part of myself.

I’ve cut myself into so many parts, can you take this one? he says, without words but with hands Will you take the heart I’ve kept locked away and hold it? Will you take the only part of me that is still whole?

You find something deep inside of you. It’s unruliness. Everything in the world that is ugly has stopped, falling in front of your feet and the loneliness that itches inside of you suddenly melts. Like a popsicle in the summer sun, it fades away into pure sugar, sticky. What is love but hands that hold?

“I love you too, Izuku,”

His eyes shut and he breathes a breath, shaky and unsure. He squeezes you as if you might disappear, closer and closer.

“Can I ask.. is it okay if I ask why?”

“Why I love you?”

“What you see in me.. I just… I want to be sure,” ― he laughs a little soft, insecure ― “I guess it’s hard for me to understand it all the way. I only know all of this from my side.”

You wrap your hands, small over his. You hold and stretch it out, staring at his scarred palms under the sea green water. You sigh, and collapse a little as if you’re letting something out.

“I’ve always liked you,” ― you explain absently, squeezing his fingers and leaning into his touch, eyes closed ― “You’re awkward and sometimes shy, but you’re charming. You’re kind. It’s always been easy to like you.”

You take a deep breath, and your eyes open as you lean your head back, you look up at him and he looks like sunlight. A home in a person.

“But, then you would ask about me. You would worry for me and remember me. You listened to everything I had to say, even when you were somewhere busy and far away. I wondered if maybe you treated everyone like that,” you admit to him. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaching your hand back to hold his cheek.

“I didn’t know if I was special to you or if maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you were like this to everyone, but you always made an effort for me - it made me feel special. When you tell me to do things and carve your time out for me,” ― you close your eyes again and they rest just against your cheek ― “The more I got to know you, the more I realized that you went out of your way for me. I like you, as is, but I liked feeling special to you. I wanted to be closer to you. I wanted to be the one who knows you best like how you know me”

“What about you, Izuku?” you ask, gently “What was it about me?”

He hums a little, shyly and awkwardly.

“It felt like you saw right through me, instead of looking at me. It was scary, but you just.. you make it so easy. It makes me feel selfish to pull anyone into my life, but the more I saw you, the more I didn’t feel like myself. It was scary.. and I didn’t understand,” ― he said with a laugh, eyes pressed completely shut ― “You were the first person… the first thing I’ve wanted so badly. It almost hurt,”

He realizes what he said and his eyes go wide and yours go wide too.

“You.. wanted me?”

The air becomes thick. Warm water suddenly feels hot and something feels awake inside of him the way you look up at him and he looks down at you. It makes him feel dizzy.

“I want you.. still. Want you, always,” with the double meaning sitting heavy on the end.

You flush, look away and stiffen.

“You weren’t uhm.. y’know.. down there. Didn’t think you were.. attracted to me,”

“I’ve been holding back. Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he strains, deep in his throat.

“You won’t,” you assure, shaky.

“Are you sure? We don’t have too… and I mean! I’ve never really - I don’t have much experience so I don’t wanna.. disappoint,”

“Izuku,”

He squeaks.

“Y-yes,”

Your lashes look heavy when you blink, lips tugged in your teeth.

“I’ve wanted you too.”

His eyes grow the size of the moon and you laugh, just a little.

“Y-you have?!”

Wordlessly, you take your hand, the one around your waist, and guide it so gently between your thighs. He feels frozen behind you as you maneuver his hand to be touching just against your sex. It’s burning, sticky on his fingers. He lets out gasp, soft under his breath as you guide him to touch you shivering. All the blood in his head rushes straight to his dick, and it grows so stiff it almost aches.

“Holy shit” he gasps and then groans, a little guttural “Holy.. holy shit,”

“Are you.. shit - I don’t have any. I don’t have much e-experience with this stuff,”

You hum at the way his hands keep moving anyways, still rubbing softly against your folds.

“S’okay. I’m a good teacher right?,” ― you say through a breathy sigh ― “You’re a quick learner, too,”

“Haah, holy shit. I really might die.”

You laugh at this fully, smiling at him.

“I want you really bad,” you say with a squirm “I’m on the pill, too.”

His eyes go wide and you laugh again, a little - feeling mischievous. Enjoying the effect you have on him, as he looks at you with eyes wide. Blown out with lust.

“Don’t regret it, okay?”

“I won’t. Not if it’s you.”

He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to wrap his head around all of it. It makes you laugh a little.

“We should get out of the bath first,” you say amused.

Before you can think about it, Deku is standing up. You scoot away, planning on doing the same. But after he stands up, he grabs a towel and immediately lifts you. He carries you on one arm like you weigh less than a paperclip and you yelp as he draws you to his chest.

“I-Izuku, let me down, I’m -,”

This time he laughs at you, almost knowing what you’re gonna say.

“Sorry, I’ll warn you next time but if you think you’re heavy, you’re sorely mistaken” ― he tells you with amusement ― “I did curls with double your weight by the time I was a first year.”

You squeak, feeling incredibly shy as you cling to him.

“My bedroom is on the left.. don’t drop me.”

He laughs at you again, a little more teasing.

“I won’t baby.”

He carries you all the way to your bedroom, where you find yourself more grateful than ever that you cleaned before he came. He drops you onto his bed with a soft thud, towel underneath you as your back lands on it. It’s different like this, the lighting a little dimmer but with him still so perfectly in view. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him as you scoot yourself towards the headboard.

He follows you in hot pursuit, body hovering over yours. Your head hits the pillow and Deku is right above you, with his hands on either side of your head. You smile at him and he looks down at you with big eyes.

“You’re so handsome.”

“I’m already hard.”

This makes you laugh and makes him grin, and you reach your arms out. Wrapping them around his neck - you drag him down to you. His mouth ghosts over yours, full and pretty. This is the first time you’ve really looked at him and god - he’s gorgeous to look at. His mouth is full and his eyes are so round - full of this pretty dark green that turns just seafoam in the middle. You feel like you’re going to drown inside of them, already yearning.

“You’re pretty,” he groans, and looks up at you through thick lashes “So pretty, think it every time I look at you.”

“Izuku, kiss me,” ― you demand.

He chuckles against your mouth, soft.

“Your wish is my command.”

He presses his mouth to yours, feather light at first. It’s been so long since you’ve kissed someone, you can’t help but feel it. Something about his lips makes you feel weak, the heat is of his body melting together with yours. It starts with one, soft and gentle - but it goes quickly to another one. Slowly he pulls away and then kisses you again, makes you open your mouth a little wider as he presses a little further. You can’t wrap your brain around how it’s making you feel. Your whole body feels like it’s sinking into your mattress, his mouth soft and full. His tongue invites itself inside, sliding against yours with the embers of flame.

What starts as kisses turn into hot pants, deep into his mouth. You can feel saliva run down your cheek as desire burns through, molten in your core. Your clit throbs with want, and you feel Deku before you see him. It makes you gasp - how big it feels, heavy too, against the meat of your thigh. You grind against it without meaning too. Deku moans in your mouth right as it happens

It feels like you're breathing each other's air - months and months of lust, pure and unadulterated, slipping out from beneath you. It’s overwhelming to be touching him, finally. Your fingers thread through his hairs and you tug, another pretty sound coming from him. . He’s so vocal with you, every moan or breath like fuel to the fire.

His hands find you soon after, exploratory - they start at your side, slowly moving up to cup your tits. His hands are firm, albeit shaky - and he touches them like he couldn’t wait a moment longer to get his hands on you. They’re so big. He dwarfs you right on top like this, and you fit perfectly in his cupped hands. His groping incessant, just like his kissing - invasive. You can feel how he can’t seem to get enough, each motion heavy with the want of many months prior.

Everything about how he touches you sends your whole body leaping, you feel weightless - the way your heart raises. It ends up all the way in your throat, in your mouth. It’s a stuttering and blind desire, all white. All you can think about is how much it aches. How much you want him, wanting and wanting and wanting.

“Izuku,” ― it comes out as a gasp when you pull away, a string of saliva as evidence when you reel back and look at him, his lidded eyes gazing down at you ― “Izuku..”

“What is it, baby? You okay?”

You squirm at the sound of his voice, gone deep like he’s been holding back all this time. It’s denser, coming from his stomach instead of his chest.

You kiss him again, and then pull back, brushing your nose to his.

“I like when you call me baby.”

“My baby,” ― he adds, kissing your nose, then the corners of your mouth ― “You’re so pretty. Don’t know anyone who looks as pretty as you.”

“Stop, I can’t fall for you anymore than I have.”

He giggles at that, kissing you again, and again and again until you’re laughing. A mess in his arms, he presses kisses all over your face.

“Just trying to make sure it stays that way.”

You frown a little.

“What happened to you being nervous?”

“I’m still nervous,” he insists, squeezing your tits in his hands with a breath, thumb brushing over your nipples. You gasp a little, shaking, as he gives you a troublesome grin - he’s bad for your heart “But I just.. I want you so bad. I’ve been thinking about you for months.”

“Months?”

“Maybe longer.”

“What were you thinking about…?”

His eyes go wide, mind racing with detailed fantasies that he gave into so long ago. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Thought you would taste.. wanted to uhm - put my mouth on you. Still want too,”

“And..?”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. You laugh, granting him a little mercy

“Fucked myself wishing’ it was you,” you tell him, whispering like a secret.

He snaps his head up immediately, just to stare as if he were worried you were bluffing. You look at him sheepishly and he groans. Everything about you makes him feel drunk, unkempt. His hands are back on your skin and he presses an opened mouth kiss to your jaw, down your neck. He’s thankful for all the perving he’s done in his life, at this moment. The way your throat bobs and you sigh as his tongue slides over the sharp edge. He trails them, stamping them across your skin and all the way to your neck.

You feel his teeth, flat but sharp, as he sucks the flesh into his mouth. A gasp rises out of you.

“Oh,” you whimper, hands around his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he sucks marks into your neck. “Izuku,”

“Wanna take my time tonight,” ― he sounds like he’s pleading with you, an edge to his voice as fingers draw circles in your waist ― “Wanna make you feel so good,”

“Can I…? Please..?”

You blink at him and then nod, watching as his lips turn into a soft grin. He slides his hands over every inch of your body, placing his lips at your neck first and trailing kisses all over it - over the marks he’s already left, the base of his throat. His tongue is summer along the new bruises, a trail of hot saliva sticking to your skin as he goes lower and lower. His mouth feels like a bunch of tiny pricks, how deeply the craving sets in. Kisses against your collar bones, down your chest, until his mouth ends up at your tits.

He bites and licks with care and precision - careful not to be too hard but not soft either. His hunger for you seems almost insatiable, and he’s learning with practicality. Every pleasant sound from your lips garners him trying it again, going a little harder like he wants to pull it right from your throat. His free hand squeezes the soft flesh and his mouth sucks on your nipples, pebbled and hard under your tongue. You feel impossibly wet, boneless in your bed at the way he pays so much attention to you. All need, all lust.

There’s a vulgarity to it, how he licks and then bites soft, tugs until you cry out with your head thrown back. He learns where to touch you once and runs it to the ground. It feels like time is moving at a snail pace as he disarms your hesitance. Even when it feels clumsy, it never stays that way for long. You can’t keep up with how often you're moaning his name. Over and over like an incantation. Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - god how you want him.

You want to beg him to touch you but all he does is unravel you, for so long you almost feel teary. He wants to make you feel good, massages your whole body with his mouth - hot as sin. You feel like a falling star falling into the atmosphere and burning up. What feels like millenia of being torn apart is only minutes. Down to the devilish detail, he learns how to make you feel so good with nothing but your tits and his mouth.

“Izuku, please,”

His voice is soft against your skin and the view is nothing but call for misdeed, eyes lidded and mouth swollen from where he runs it over your skin. The room has to be at least a few hundred degrees - sweating and clenched.

“Can’t get enougha’ you,” ― he whispers against your stomach, cheek pressed to it ― “I wanna make you feel good.. wanna see you touch yourself,”

Your eyes grow wide as you look at him, and he gives you a soft smile.

“You’re a good teacher,” ― he teases, a devilish laugh attached ― “I’m asking as your favorite student.. show me how.”

“You’re really too much,”

But you oblige, and Deku knows by how you shift. He scoots back until the view is perfect, spreading your legs wider. He kisses up your thighs as your hand shifts, soft and nervous between your legs. He’s so close - you can feel his breath on you. It makes your spine tingle.

“Don’t be shy.. you’re beautiful.”

You want to tell him that that only makes you more shy but he’s got his eyes glued onto you, anticipatory, and you can’t believe yourself but god it makes you wet. How he stares, how he longs for it.

You go slow, shifting your fingers to be at the right angle. You know yourself well, so many nights alone in your bedroom, thinking of him. The visual of him wide-eyed and slick mouthed, makes it easy to do again. You put the pressure slowly, just to fingers so he can see - and relieve yourself. Touch yourself in front of his very eyes, slowly forgetting the humiliation. You’re not sure how long he wants you to go, but it feels so good to get the pressure off. Your toes curl and Deku speaks under his breath.

“So pretty.. all of you,” ― his hands are at your navel, spreading you further ― “I love looking at you.”

You feel like you could cum from nothing at all. The pleasure for now is a frazzle crescendo. It’s not enough - like even if you came from it, you would still be chasing after another one. You need more, so much more - need him. You keep asking for him, after each little pant you call for him. He murmurs, voice soft as sand, almost breaking apart after each word.

“‘zuku, Izuku,”

“I’m here, I’m here baby.”

Again and again, making your orgasm stir. The knot inside of you slowly comes undone, piece by piece, but it’s not what you want. It frustrates you, annoyance welling up inside of you until you can’t take it anymore. Your brows are furrowed and it almost feels itchy. All it is is need, an insufferable amount of need.

“N-need you so bad,” ― you manage, words caught like they’re stuck in your chest ― “Please, please.. touch me,”

“Okay.. shh, shh - it’s okay.”

He moves your hands by your wrist, mouth curling around your fingers. He shivers, eyes curious and eager. You look at him hazy, drunk off of a sense of lust you can’t shake.

He takes a few more kisses up your skin, down your navel, then with one hot stroke - runs his tongue against your entire sex before resting right at your clit. Your eyes go wide with a gasp. The reaction from you is immediate, hands going to tangle themselves in the mess of green hairs. His sturdy hands are quick to clasp your thighs. They go underneath your thighs, dragging you towards him with an inexplicable strength. His face is practically buried in it, bumping his nose against your clit until he settled himself. He brushes your pubes back a little with a hum.

“Aaah, fuck - hnggh,”

The noise is so obscene, scorching hot tongue sliding against your folds. It’s so fucking overwhelming, all-consuming - what you’ve wanted for so long. He shifts around and watches for your reaction each time he tries something new. Flattens the muscle against the throbbing little bundle of nerves, pointing it and flicking. He watches and waits until he finds a good pace - learning as he goes. It doesn’t feel as clumsy as it should. As you wish it would. It just feels pleasurable, too much and not enough.

He sucks your clit between his lips until it’s on his tongue, and flattens against it at a maddening pace. The kind of natural ability he has makes your toes curl, mind lost to something. A far out, funny feeling holds you down to the sheets as his arms tight around the back of your thighs. He’s so deep, tongue buried in your cunt and it’s filthy. Shamelessly loud as he licks and licks and licks like it’s his only reason to be alive. His hands feel around till they find yours and he locks fingers as he does it, and everything in the room is spinning.

“Ooh, I-Izuku,”

He hums against your clit and looks up at you through his lashes, and you feel your whole body go slack from the visuals. All you can think to yourself is that you want to cum, over and over, you want to cum. You want to cum all over his face, down his chin. You wanna be all over his everything

“I’m gonna..! I’m gonna c-cum, I’m gonna cum, Izuku.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t stutter, doesn’t slow - like he knows if he shifts even a little, he’ll lose his chance. You can hardly think, mind completely blank as you reach your peak - the climax. You can feel it. It’s so unbearably there that every word out of your mouth becomes mish-mash and gibberish.

“Ohmyg’d, oh, oh please.”

Your whole body locks up and you cum - you cum so hard you can barely breath. A gasp gets webbed inside of your lungs and all you can do is spasm unbearably. You grind your clit into his tongue, your orgasm making everything inside of you tremble. Your walls clench harshly around nothing at all and he still hasn’t moved or slowed. You try to move, overstimulated but he doesn’t budge - he just changes the pace and angle.

It doesn’t settle you much, the syrupy lustful feeling, only stronger with the passing seconds. Deku groans as he breaks to lap up as much of your cum as he possibly can. You can feel his saliva dribbling down your sex. He lets go of your hands only so he can spread your thighs as wide as they can go - looking at your swollen clit with almost affection. He stares at it for a few minutes, another hand resting on your navel as his thumb brushes over it. You shake as he touches it.

“You take it so good.. good girl,” ― he praises naturally, easily ― “Such a good girl. Wanna make you give you one more.. before I fuck you.”

Your voice is so rough by now, you cough a little as you look at him.

“W-what about you? W..wanna touch you too.”

He smiles, a soft and pretty smile - it makes you dizzy to even look at. Everything about him makes you so damn dizzy. You give into him unintentionally when he grins, kissing the hood of your clit.

“Some other time, maybe,” ― he announces to you softly, sweetly ― “Just wanna take care of you today.”

You nod for him, absently and without another warning - he tongues your clit again. This time wraps around, sucking on it soft but not doing much else. You question him, briefly, until you feel his fingers.

Izuku’s hands have always been of interest. They’re big, thick, and strong. Everything is sturdy but his hands especially make you desperate. All scar tissue, gnarled from years of use, and so bulky. You’ve always found them attractive - many daydreams surrounding them. You can almost feel the ridges of them even in your fantasy but now he’s right in front of you. His middle finger is so much thicker than yours. Clean and pretty hands, he presses to your hole. You’re so soft inside, it makes his chest tight. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to fuck you long if you feel like this.

“You’re soaking wet, huh?” ― he laughs a little, smiling ― “Cute.”

You don’t have it in you to get upset with him. With the way his finger slowly slips inside of you and prods around, all you can do is whimper a little. You feel strange, pliable in a way you’ve never been in your life. Terribly vulnerable.

“F-feels different,”

“Different?”

You cover your face with your hands, shivering.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine.. so it feels.. yknow,”

“Does it feel good, baby?”

There it is again, baby. You clench unintentionally, and he has to hide his laughter so as not to embarrass you any further.

“Feels really good. I want more.. please,”

“You’re so cute. You sure you’re ready..? Don’t wanna hurt you,”

You nod a little but he still seems unsure, so he fucks it in and out of you first. His fingers prod inside and he finds it, that little spongy part a few inches deep, pressing onto it without intent. It makes your whole body freeze and tremble, and he stares at you wide-eyed. You’ve got a hand clasped over your mouth, unsure of what it was until he does it again.

“Hnggh, Izuku,”

He hears you loud and clear so he laughs, this time his pointer finger. He’s quick about it this time, granting you the most bare minimum mercies. His fingers stretch you out good, but you’re so wet from cumming once and his saliva, slick on everything. It’s enough to burn just a little but not so much it hurts. You just feel a little full, a little pleased. Deku slides them into you slowly, deeply - and curls them up press against your g-spot. This time, you have a full body reaction - back arching up off the bed. Fingering yourself rarely feels like much of anything but when it’s him, it makes you ache and drip with pure need. This pleasure is a little more hazy to start, but when he fucks them in and out of you, something shifts.

He finds a rhythm that has you breathing heavy, panting between long breaths like there’s not enough air in your lungs. It’s electrifying, sending little sparks through you every time he finds it. This pleasure is deeper, like you can feel it in a place you didn’t know it existed. It carves something out of you. You whimper as he takes your clit into his mouth one more time and the added layer makes your throat constrict.

You really don’t know how to proceed. Your whole body looks like it’s in a state of shock, the dull pressure of his fingers on your sweet spot with the current of your clit buzzing on his tongue. Warm mouth, humming a little just to see you twitch. He’s knuckle deep inside of you, reaching almost into your throat.

“It feel so good, feel so good, Izu.”

He goes a little harder when you call his name, thinking about how he can barely hold himself up. He spares you a little, stretching you out and holding it. He manages to fit all of it inside, rubbing against your walls with precision.

You look so damn good falling apart, all swollen lips and round mouth and pretty blinking lashes. Your eyes go soft, hooded with desire as he fucks into you with two fingers. He adds another when he knows it feels good for you - the little mewl because it’s not enough, another one, so slowly entering inside of you. You feel stuffed to the brim, a never ending fullness. You can’t help yourself but imagine his thick cock inside of you and how that’ll stretch you so nice.

You weren’t sure if it was possible to feel more pleasure but he proves you wrong instantly. His mouth descends on you and he sets his fast pace, consistent. Pleasure again and again and again in little intervals. Your mouth is dropped open in an open scream, this orgasm so much more deep. You can feel how much it will rock you, the sheer force of it has you drooling. You’re his pretty girl, and he can’t help but stare at your blurry expression.

It’s a tremor, unsteady. The first waves of it having your mouth going slack - it’s the kind of orgasm that sort of just creeps on you. It’s brief but strong, an impossible impact like the splitting of atom. It’s one moment, just a little bit longer. Suddenly your mouth is open so wide, unhinged jaw aching and your head thrown violently on the sheets.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuck, ohfuck,”

It’s more brief but you cum and you cum hard. You can barely understand how it happens, the rapid shaking as you blink tears away from your eyes. Entirely overwhelmed, you swallow your shock.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, staring at him. “Holy shit!”

You watch as he takes his fingers out and sticks them into his mouth, not a lick of hesitation. It makes you flush how he tastes it, a soft moan from his mouth. His tongue drives over all the edges and then he wipes them on his thigh. He leans up, just to kiss you right after and you can taste yourself in his mouth.

“You taste nice,” he tells you, so earnestly it makes your whole body rise with heat. You ignore replying, just kissing him harder and making him laugh. After everything, you find some strength in your hands and reach down, peering at his cock. He’s big. The only way you can describe it is thick, like a coke can. You reach out for, small hands wrapped around it and he moans, especially loud. It makes your eyes go wide.

“It’s so big, Izuku,” you say, breathless. He gives you a sheepish smile.

“Ah.. you think so?”

You frown a little, tugging at it. He drops his head a little as you jerk him off, precum making your hands slick.

“It is big. I wanna.. wanna feel it,”

He gives you a shaky smile, hands reaching towards the other side of the bed.

“Ah.. do you have any condoms?”

You give him a little laugh, releasing your hands from his cock and wrapping them around neck, pulling him down towards you again.

“Did you think I was kidding earlier?”

He doesn’t remember at first, confused - but as soon as he does, his mouth goes agape. His eyes almost seem like they hit the top of his hairline. A shiver runs through him as you give him another kis, grinding your hips up just a little. He groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.. are you sure?” he asks, hot at just the thought of not using a condom. He can barely imagine it, how it’ll feel to take you all the way raw on his cock. You nod at him, smiling as he pulls away.

“I wanna feel it in me raw, ‘s so big. It’s a waste otherwise,” ― you let go and he sits back, watching as you use your fingers to spread your pussy out for him, chuckling ― “It’s a reward for all your hard work,”

Izuku feels like he might lose his mind, staring as he strokes his cock with one hand. If he can last more than three thrusts, he’ll be impressed with himself. Maybe all of his years edging himself will finally prove to be worth his effort. A molten heat starts in his stomach, all the blood rushing to his cock with infallible force. He stares at your cunt, pretty and open for him- all pulsing and hot. He shivers again, and drags you to him. He lets the heavy weight of his cock sit right against your cunt, pressing down a little. You blink at him before whimpering, the heavy head of his dick pulsing against your clit with need.

He drags it, grinds it in and watches through lidded eyes as cum and saliva mix all over it. A little shiver evades him, throwing his head back as he grinds steadily into your pussy. His head is thrown back, mouth dropped open and moaning your name. You watch as his hips stutter, just grinding against your pussy, eagerly but agonizingly slow. It feels so fucking good. It’s an excruciatingly slow buildup of pleasure, how he just feels you.

“Izuku, please,” you plead, hands reaching for him. He grabs them and pins them to the bed with a soft smile, humming.

“Told you I’d take care of you.. be patient.. I wanna feel you,”

You aren’t sure how much more you can take but then it happens. He leans, tell you to take a deep breath, and then you feel it. The head of his cock, curved and weighted, pressing against your hole. It makes you whine, makes your mouth drop into a shocked gasp. You want to squirm or cling but your hands are still pinned so you can’t thrash. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it.

You feel every single inch as it slides so miserably slow inside of you. He’s being sweet with you, his voice in your ear with adoring praise - little whimpering sounds “fuck you feel good, so good,” over and over. It makes you wet, clenching further on his cock as your whole body pulses like a beating hard. You feel ravenous, starving to be so full of him you can’t breathe. He’s just so fucking thick, no matter how you take it. It stabs your lungs, thick. So, so big - it makes you stretch impossibly wide. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt in your life. He swallows some saliva in his mouth.

“Half-way, baby. J-just a little more”

You can’t think.. only half? You brace yourself, snivelling. You feel a mess, are a mess - listening to the loud shlick sounds. Your brain feels static, whole body giving into the feeling of being fucked full. You want him so bad you don’t know what to do, every word you’ve learned is lost to coveting him. You want him so blindly.

“Iz-Izuku, please fuck me, please,”

Without another word, he lets his hips rut - a sharp thrust that makes you scream, silent. He’s so deep inside it makes you scramble, and he leans down to kiss you. You feel his cock inside your stomach, it’s so big. It feels incredible, so hot and heavy and big. All you can think about is how it feels inside, mind free from anything other than him. Izuku Midoriya, so big and handsome and sweet. He groans into your mouth.

“Can I move, baby?”

“Please. Please move,”

He lets go of your hands, grabbing your legs and sliding them over his shoulders. He looks so fucking pretty, all green-haired and freckled skin and his dick inside of you. So deep it aches, he presses a kiss to the back of your calf - your legs pressed together giving you perfect pressure on your clit. You don’t know how to do anything but brace yourself, fingers buried in the sheets as he pulls his hips back. He’s clearly going slow for you, at least for now - the pace he sets is steady.

His cock feels nothing short of fucking incredible. This rolling pleasure inside of you on your spot and the steady pressure on your clit from where his hands rest on your navel. You can see how hard he focuses to get you to cum agains, how he rolls his hips with all the strength and finesse he can. Izuku fucks you with dancer's hips, so steady and worked out. He doesn’t look tired, his core tightening so he can get the angle just right. It feels like you’re being torn apart, uprooted like grass from the ground. The pleasure is particularly mind-numbing. So terribly desperate. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, he goes soft on you. You’re boneless and he gives you a soft smile.

“You take it so well,” ― he praises, kissing up the back of your leg, bending you ― “Such a pretty girl. You’re beautiful.. wanna see the face you make when you cum again. Please? Can you do that for me?”

The praise has you reeling, nodding with pouty lips and too fucked out to respond proper. This orgasm hits you like a natural disaster, this brilliant and overwhelming force of nature that has everything inside of you feeling ruined beyond repair. He ruins you so gracefully, until you are warm and tight around his cock and all your troubles reduce into nothing. It makes him preen, his pretty baby - so fucking sweet around his cock. He wants to cum but he wants you to cum again, just one more time, just for him.

“Izuku, hngg, Izuku,” it comes out hazardous, a warning for what's next. All the lust and need and everything, all at fucking once. It’s an earthquake, the entire hurricane of everything crashing into you. Your whole body seizes, as you cum on his cock - wearily.

“Oh.. oh my fucking god,” and you cum, hard, right on his cock. He groans as he feels it, finally - the way it pulsates and holds onto him like it would hate to let go. He groans as he fucks into you with no will to stop, a little sloppier now.

“Fuck, fuck - you’re so tight. I’m gonna cum soon, wh-where do you,”

You clench down on him this time on purpose and he groans, falling forward and folding you completely in half. You blink at him, still feeling the waves of your own climax but egging him on anyway. You smile at him.

“Cum inside me, Izuku,” ― you whisper, voice hoarse with exhaustion ― “I’m gonna drain you for all your worth,”

The sound of your sultry voice sends him reeling, and in the last few minutes - he lets himself go. Fucking you so hard your headboard digs into your wall and cumming inside of you in what feels like seconds. He cums and cums and it fills you up so deeply. It makes your whole body shiver as you feel him unload - thick white hot streams pouring until there’s nothing left to give.

He collapses on top of you, completely breathless and half-way out of his mind. You feel his cock soften inside of you as you wrap your arms around his back and relax your legs. The two of you kiss like that for a long while, sharing soft glances in the dimness of your room. You’re exhausted but he seems fine, kissing all over your face and cheeks. You let him pamper you, giggling a little.

“It’s raining out.. can you hear it?,”

He nods, smiling at you.

“Yeah,”

“Do you like the rain?” he asks you. You shrug a little, smiling at him.

“I’ve always wanted to spend a day inside with someone I love, that’s all,” ― you hum ― “Kinda romantic right?”

His whole body feels weightless. This burden, this love, everything inside of him. All the parts of him he so slowly gives to you - there’s no way it wouldn’t feel romantic. He chuckles a little, staring at the window.

“Yeah… I think it’s romantic too,”

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #deku smut #deku x you #deku x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #writing tag #formal #this fucking. absolute monstrosity #prettyboy.thirsts

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loves124 · 2 years

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Very very nervous. Meeting a really cute guy for the first time tomorrow. AND ! I am going over to his apartment.

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loves124 · 3 years

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Pairing: Alpha!Iwaizumi x f!reader

WC: 4.6k

Tags/tw: soulmate, a/b/o, college party, gentleman Iwa turned feral basically, unprotected sex, rut/heat, knotting, dare I say comfort?

A/N: This is my contribution to the Au-gust collab for the Church of Meian! (But Yuli, it’s September.) Yep, just another display of my chronic tardy disease lol. Between @meiansmistress and @vanille–kiss the concept for this fic was born and I was lucky enough to get to bring it to life :3

A/N2: If you are less familiar with a/b/o, or simply desire more context, I would suggest reading Mine (Kuroo) first as it gives you the low down of how I’m presenting the a/b/o dynamic in this au; Fated is set in the same a/b/o au + soulmate au. Also, @meiansmistress is a literal goddess. I finished this fic less than two hours ago and she slammed out a beta read for me, I do not deserve her T-T <3

Iwaizumi glowers at nothing as the bass thumps around him.

Well, not nothing. If he had to choose, he’s definitely glowering at Shittykawa, even though he can’t find the annoying bastard. Iwaizumi might be at a party but he isn’t really having the greatest time. He’s only there because Oikawa dragged him to scope out their rival frat’s party, the first of the new semester.

He wasn’t in the mood for any of it; Iwaizumi would have preferred to be at home studying and going to sleep early enough for a pre-workout before practice tomorrow. So everything is pissing him off. He can’t find Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki are too busy joyfully causing everyone to stare, the two alphas shamelessly making out on the couch, and this is the third fucking time they’ve played this song in the last half an hour. Who cares if it’s popular?

Iwaizumi is stuck prowling the house looking for the brunet alpha so he can drag him out of here by the scruff of the neck. There’s hardly a difference between this party and any of the other’s that they’ve thrown themselves. Being here is fucking pointless.

As he’s rounding the corner, finally escaping the sitting room and its herbal smoke cloud, Iwaizumi gets a whiff of distress scent. As faint as it is, it’s enough to make him turn around to search it out. It seems to be coming from a pretty omega, fingers wrapped too firmly around a plastic cup, cornered against the wall by a familiar blonde undercut. Iwaizumi can see the polite annoyance plastered across your face, the firm shake of your head as you deny whatever advances Terushima seems to be making. As assertive as you appear, Iwaizumi can smell your anxiety, the sour ripple of your scent burning faintly in his nose and blocking out something sweeter that lingers beneath it all. The rival fraternity president doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.

Iwaizumi growls under his breath. He’s not in the mood for this. Even on a good day he can’t ignore this stereotypical alpha behavior, but today has not been a good day.

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loves124 · 3 years

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|| m.list || part I ||

⇢ pairing: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

⇢ chapter: part II of III, chapters posted every week on Tuesday

⇢ rating: e, 18+

⇢ word count: 11,001 [ao3]

⇢ warnings: graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury

⇢ tags: wolf hybrid bakugo, aged up characters, hurt/comfort, slow burn

⇢ notes: please note the new tags before reading - add yourself to the taglist here

⇢ summary:

Your relationship with your high-risk hybrid Bakugo continues to grow stronger - a bond forged in the quiet intimacy of sharing a home and sharing a life. You’re unsure, still, what it is you mean to him but when a situation on the trail turns deadly, you realize all at once just how much of him you have to lose.

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loves124 · 3 years

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IMPULSE.

Minors and ED blogs DNI. Do not repost or recommend my work anywhere.

Synopsis. As a single mother, you have fought tooth and nail to provide your son the stability you never had, and one of your motherly sacrifices included a self-imposed dating hiatus. But your perspective soon changes when your reclusive neighbour enters the picture.

WC. 15.3k

Genre. NSFW, alternative universe.

Warnings. Alcohol consumption, kitchen sex, oral (female and male receiving), ass play (female receiving), side wind-her position, reverse cowgirl, sixty-nine, a sprinkle of toe sucking, overstimulation, biting (hickeys), spitting, praising, heavy dirty talk, spanking, ironic usage of mommy, fluff if you squint, piercer! Sukuna (with eyebrow, tongue and nip piercings) cause I’m a wh*re.

MASTERLIST

Part 1 | Part 2

You’ve received plenty of gifts in your life, ones that held a deep sentimental value to you; a bouquet of roses from your first partner, a watch as a high school graduation gift, and even something as trivial as a colouring book on your tenth birthday. You were a person of sentiments after all, and although it’s been years since you’ve received that Digimon sketchbook, the memory remains cherished in the deepest pits of your heart.

But the best gift you have received, was eight years ago on the nineteenth of April. It might not have been wrapped up with a pretty red ribbon and a heartfelt, written gift card attached, but you’d like to believe he was the greatest blessing you could ever ask for.

You named him Zion.

Of course, like any other woman who gets impregnated during the peak of her youth, you went absolutely ballistic seeing the two red lines on the pregnancy stick that confirmed your long term suspicions. With the father out of the picture long before you had the chance to tell him, the discovery was a new added weight to your shoulders, one that you struggled to carry on your own at first.

It was safe to say that there was a lack of familial stability growing up for you, and you’ve made sure to not allow history to repeat itself by providing a nurturing environment. As the years went by, you found yourself developing a set of skills you never thought you could possibly obtain. You were not just a mother when you gave birth to the most beautiful light in your life. You grew to become a protector, a doctor, a cook, a teacher, an advisor. You were a force to be reckoned with and didn’t lack a single ounce of independency. Some might assume being a single mum is a long, lonely road consisting of nothing but sleepless nights and overbearing responsibilities (which isn’t exactly a lie, to be quiet frank), but it was a road that ended up building your strength and resilience. In the end, you have transformed from a fragile dandelion, to an impassable mountain that emerged from the earth’s crust, one that cannot be shook by the strongest storms or winds. And you have Zion to thank for that.

As expected, having a child came with many sacrifices. Eight hours of sleep, sexy lingeries, and night outs with your friends were long deserted once you signed your life-time oath of motherhood. You even abandoned your bikinis at some point, because your trips to the beach went from sipping cocktails and peaceful hours of suntanning to chasing around an eight year old that would insist on trying to eat sand for reasons unknown to you. You were sure you were going to grow two more arms and legs from raising a single child. But seeing your son live a comfortable life, a life that you unfortunately did not have the privilege to live when you were his age, it was infinitely rewarding.

The scorching heat of the oven fanned your already hot face as you pulled out another tray of freshly baked cupcakes. Placing it on the island next to the other two trays that have cooled down long ago, the sweet aroma of butter dominating your nostrils as you inhaled a large breath. You began to pipe overlapping rows of petals with purple icing, giving it the illusion of a carnation as you towered it with a sweet glaze of Swiss Meringue buttercream—you were trying to welcome spring where you can, which can only mean creating floral designs during this time of the year. Wiping your cheek tiredly with the back of your hand, you were quick to finish with the frosting and decorations, your eyes studying the small pieces of art with a proud smirk, only for realisation to crash hard into you once you’ve registered that you made too much for anyone's likening.

Whilst you were too absorbed scolding yourself in the head for repeating the same flimsy mistake that you never seem to learn from your weekly baking sessions, your ears perked up to the familiar sound of small footsteps rushing towards you. You kept your hands at your hips and your eyes fixed at the dozens of cupcakes with a hard glare as if they would decrease in number under your gaze. Your train of thoughts were interrupted once you felt a tug at your blouse. Your eyes soften at the sight of a giddy Zion, who stares up at you with a toothy grin and eyes as bright as the universe.

“Is this the Swedish one?” He perks up, catching a whiff at the delightful dessert assembled in front of him, eyes scanning the triumph of egg and flour. "You mean Swiss meringue?” You snort, before seeing a small hand from your periphery reach for one. “Hey!" You playfully swatted him away, “Dinner first, then dessert.” You remind him, ignoring the small pout he gives you and resuming to the task at hand as you began to place pieces into their respective plastic containers.

“Did anything fun today?” You mutter, eyebrows furrowed as you shut the food containers with a lid, careful enough to not smudge the frosting you’ve perfected. “Kizuki’s mum took us to the park to ride our bicycles.” Zion says absentmindedly, still entranced with the floral frosting in front of him. He attempts to sneakily reach out for one, only for you to swat his hand away again without even so much as sparing a glance. “I thought your bicycle had a slipped chain?” You ask confusingly once you met his gaze, before turning on the faucet to wash up your hands. You were planning on taking it to the store at some point, but the thought slipped from your mind before you had the chance to stick a post-it note on the fridge as a reminder.

Zion’s lips stretch into a tight smile. “Suku fixed it for me!” He blurts, reaching for a cupcake once more. You don’t stop him this time, too dumbfounded to give him a third scold as your mind attempts to absorb what he just said. “Suku?” Your feet remain rooted in place. “The man living across the hall?” The eight year old nodded vigorously, sinking his teeth into the cupcake in his relatively small hands. With his mouth full, he explains, “He’s really nice, even though he keeps calling me kid, which is weird because I told him I have a name but—“

“When did that happen?” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but to hear someone whose had grouch as a synonym to his name suddenly possess the urge in helping others, when he made sure to go far and wide to close off any form of interaction had rendered you speechless. Zion gives you a half-shrug, “A few days ago.”

To say you were shocked would be an understatement, because Ryomen Sukuna, inhabitant of apartment 23B, and quite bluntly, the most hated tenant in the apartment complex, was not a man to do favours, let alone hold a conversation with anyone. You assume that he must’ve left the womb with a scowl because it remains etched on his inked face with every encounter, and you never hear anything come out of his mouth except for a grumble of annoyance, followed by his apartment door slamming shut whenever you greet him a good morning. With a wicked temper and sour attitude, he was like the grey cloud that would suddenly rain on a summer afternoon, the storm after the calm. The grinch per say, except his heart never grows three sizes for him to have a change in demeanour.

“Peanut I told you not to bother him. He’s not a..people person, remember?” You attempt to put it nicely, but Zion only blinks at you. He swallows down another bite, his legs swinging from the kitchen stool, “But I didn’t. He saw me with the bike downstairs and told me to wait before he came back with his tools.”

“He did?” You ask bug-eyed. At this point you can only assume that your son must be confused with someone else, because the series of events currently being retold to you sounds completely paradoxical to the man living across the hall. But as far as you know, there’s only one person with a pink undercut and tattoos littering his face in this prefecture. “Yup, told you he was nice.” Zion replies proudly, licking off the frosting from his fingers. You shake the thought out of your head, wiping your hands down your apron before picking up the two containers of cupcakes. “Okay, wanna take these to Mrs. Oshiro before dinner?” You offer politely. To your dismay, your carbon copy shakes his head immediately at your proposal. Your eyebrows pinch in, “Why not?”

“She scares me.” Zion confesses, sinking into the stool. Ironically enough, a harmless elderly woman seemed to pose a threat to him unlike the six foot tall, tattooed man. “And she’s weird.”

He licked his lips, leaving a streak of frosting right on the tip of his nose. You grab a nearby tissue paper in response, bending down to wipe his face before disposing it in the bin. “Don’t be mean. She’s nice! And she looks out for you when I’m at work.” You attempt to convince him. With time you grew relieved that Zion came out to be an exact duplicate of you, in terms of both looks and persona, not inheriting a single scrape from his father. Admittedly, the outcome wasn’t always in your favour when your son would act as hard headed as you can be.

“But she made us hide in the closet last time cause she kept saying some men in suits are coming to take us.” Zion whines before his bottom lip juts out into a pout. You couldn’t find a fragment within you to blame him for his attitude towards her. Mrs. Oshiro was nice when she wanted to be, but after the loss of her husband, her health had declined drastically, in a sense—growing paranoid at the slightest inconvenience and occasionally stirring up rumours about fellow occupants. Her memory wasn’t the best after all, but she was nice enough to both you and your son. And in your book, that was sufficient enough to maintain a civil relationship with her.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” You sigh out defeatedly. Zion straightens up at that, a triumphant giggle erupted from his lips as you amble out of the kitchen and towards the front door. “And no more cupcakes!” You call out knowingly, slipping into your sandals before unlocking the door to step outside.

It only took three consecutive knocks before the door belonging to apartment 26B began to creek open ever so slowly, revealing a tuff of platinum hair. A wide brown eye peeks through the gap. “Mrs. Oshiro? It’s me, [Name].” You call out softly, tilting your head with a smile. The older woman gasps, slamming the door shut in your face before you heard a set of chains unlock.

“[Name]!” She beams once the door wings open. The decades worth of wrinkles and folds of skin were now more pronounced as the corner of her lips stretch into a wide smile. You’re careful to not let your eyes wander to the inside of her apartment, given that would only trigger one of her various phobias (unfortunately for you, you’ve learned that the hard way, and the incident from a few years back only led to Mrs. Oshiro locking herself up for two continuous weeks without opening the door to anyone).

“I hope I’m not bothering you, but I made some sugar free cupcakes, so I thought I’d drop over some.“ You gesture towards the two containers you’re holding, one placed on top of the other. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation detected on Mrs. Oshiro’s face when she steps forward to take one right out of your hands. “Aren’t you the sweetest!” She exclaims, holding it up to the light as she examines its contents from below for reasons unknown to you.

“I was hoping I’d catch you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about little Zion.” She mutters absentmindedly, cracking open the lid and swiping the frosting with her finger. Your lips purse like you’ve just chewed on a lemon rind at the sight of your violet carnation turning into a stomped flower. Mrs. Oshiro licks her finger clean with a hum of satisfaction. “I saw him the other day with that..yakuza boy.” She discloses with a hush, her eyes flickering to apartment 23B warily before meeting your gaze. “Yakuza boy?” You repeat for affirmation, eyebrows drawn inwards confusingly before your face softens in realisation. “Oh, you mean Sukuna?”

“Sukuuunaaa,” Mrs. Oshiro drags out the name in utter disgust, tongue sticking out and eyes rolled in annoyance at the mentioned. “—Is nothing but trouble. You need to tell your boy steer clear from him.” She continues warningly. You weren’t sure where all this newfound hatred towards your neighbour suddenly emerged from, but you can only assume how the combination of tattoos, piercings and a vulgar mouth was a natural repellent towards the elderly. You shift your weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, trying to wrack up the right words to say. “I don’t..think he is though. He fixed Zion’s bike. I was gonna go give him some cupca—“

“Are you mad, young girl?!” Mrs. Oshiro shrieks in horror, eyes wide in disapproval as she suddenly grabs your forearm. “I saw him with his group, [Name]. He’s a yakuza.” She firmly states with conviction. You weren’t one to feed into rumours or blindly believe in such irrational accusations—it’s not exactly wise to pass judgment on someone based on preconceptions, let alone by their appearance. But given the look on Mrs. Oshiro’s face, you knew attempting to convince her otherwise would only lead to a dead-end. You politely remove her hand, giving her a reluctant smile. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll be sure to follow your advice.”

You thanked the Gods above the conversation was cut short. Your answer seemed to satisfy Mrs. Oshiro, because she only pats your cheek with a “thank you for the cupcakes”. Wishing you a goodnight, she closes the door and locks it shut. With your lips pursed, you choose to completely contradict your previous words by turning on your heel, and allowing your feet to carry you towards apartment 23B.

Hesitantly, your hand balls into a fist as you knock twice on the mahogany door. You shuffle with your feet as you wait for the next minute or so. You knew for a fact that he was at home given the light peeking through the peephole, and it only dawns on you at that moment that he could be ignoring you. Stubbornly, your hand moves to knock once more before the door suddenly swings open. You flinch in response, clutching the cupcake container instinctively. Your eyes widen at your rosy-haired neighbour, whose body spray odour invades your nostrils instantly.

He only looks at you with distaste filling his expression; eyebrows drawn in as he shoots daggers at you. You felt yourself shrink under the intensity of his gaze, and at that moment you were willing to pay whatever amount of money to be able to undo your actions, because the growing feeling of regret began to slowly germinate within you once you met his gaze again.

You gulp unconsciously before stammering, "Uh..hi." He doesn’t greet back, his scowl unchanged. His gimlet chestnut eyes travel to the container in your hands momentarily before returning to your face, almost impatiently. And you knew in that moment he wasn’t too fond of the idea of you being a few steps away from his door. The palpable tension grows thicker, "I'll just cut straight to the chase then.." you mutter quietly, eyes shifting to your feet before meeting his stone hard glare. You clear your throat, speaking up loud and clear, "Zion told me about what you did with uh..his bike, and I wanted to thank you for that."

He pauses for a second, only to nod curtly at your words. His silence only proved more difficult for you to string together a proper sentence as a response. "Anyways, I made some cupcakes—" You attempt to sound enthusiastic as you held the container up for him to see, but he only blinks at you in disinterest, his stare unrelenting. Unconsciously, your mouth began to babble profusely, "I mean some would be an understatement because I made way too much without even realising so I thought mayb—“

"I don't like sweets."

His voice catches you off guard; gruff and thunderous, enough to dry out your throat as it rang in your ears. Your eyebrows shoot up at his bluntness. "They’re sugar free.” You defend with a squeak, but your attempts to win him over are futile. Sukuna seems unfazed, his hand remains clutching the doorknob tightly. “Let me rephrase, I don’t want your sweets.” He elaborates lowly.

You wanted the ground beneath you to split into two and swallow you whole as the air grew stuffy around you. Your tongue pokes out to lick your lips, "Oh." You mumble embarrassingly, your voice as quiet as a mouse. "Guess I'll just..take these back then," You gestured towards your apartment door, “And be out of your way.” Nearly scramming away, you plodded back to your apartment in dismay, expecting to hear his door close shut from behind you, but you freeze in place once you surprisingly hear him call out for you.

"Hey."

Hesitantly, you slowly turn your head to face him with a hopeful glint in your eyes, because you expected to hear an apology, or perhaps him changing his mind and suddenly taking the container from your hands. Instead, he lifts his hand to point at his own hair, his pierced eyebrow arched slyly. And you could’ve sworn you saw a devilish smirk dangled on the corner of his lips. "You've got an egg shell in your hair." He remarks flatly, not giving you a chance to formulate a response before he takes a single step backwards and slams the door shut with a click.

You blink owlishly, reaching for your own head. You pat your scalp in several different places before feeling the rough texture belonging to a fragment of an egg shell. Letting out a huff of annoyance, you stomp back into your apartment and shut the door with a loud bang. Glancing at the container in hand, you couldn’t help but scoff at your previous encounter. Muttering “I don’t like sweets” mockingly in a poor attempt to imitate his hoarse voice, you carelessly open the lid to shove a cupcake into your mouth in frustration. You lean your head against the door, cheeks puffed out as you flutter your eyes shut. Savouring the taste, your moment of bliss was soon to be interrupted when you suddenly hear a familiar voice speak.

“I thought you said no dessert before dinner?”Cracking one eye open, you see Zion staring up at you with pure curiosity. Swallowing, you answer tiredly, “Can I break the rule just this once?”

“Will you let me do it with you?” Of course he wouldn’t let you off so easily without throwing in the bargaining chip. Groaning in defeat, you close the container shut and walk past him towards the kitchen to start dinner, ignoring his pleads as he scrambles to chase you.

“W-Wait! Maybe we can work out a better deal!”

The skin around your fingertips and across your palm nearly peeled as you typed away onto your computer. With another work report due soon at your corporate job, you remind yourself once more to purchase more coffee grains on your next shopping trip given you were already on your third cup. Luckily, you were flexible with your job, ensuring to not leave poor Zion alone at the hands of a paranoid Mrs. Oshiro as you began to work from home at least twice a week.

Having your eight year old away to one of his monthly sleepovers at the Fushiguro’s allowed you to use the opportunity to your advantage, typing on your keyboard until your fingers fell numb. Eyes strained and consecutive yawns fighting their way out of your mouth. Tonight, you were persistent with finishing as much reports as possible to make more leisure time for you and your son. With your objective clear in your head, you send off another excel file via email before moving on to the next one. But you’re cut short once you hear your doorbell suddenly ring. Sighing, you type out a quick starter before pushing your chair behind to stand up, fixing up your shirt as you drag your feet towards the front door.

The situation seemed fitting, you think, once you’ve looked through the peephole to see a tuff of shell-pink hair. Your eyes, however, widen in surprise either way at the unexpected visit. "No fucking way.." Unintentionally, your voice came out louder than expected, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth once Sukuna snapped his head up with furrowed eyebrows. You took a small step back, before cautiously unlocking the door and prying it open.

His usual, unperturbed mannerism didn’t come across as shocking to you—breath slow and tranquil. With navy sweats on, his hair was damp from a recent shower, the usual bright hues of his watermelon locks reduced into a deeper shade of magenta. The silver chain of his necklace visible as the pendant disappeared underneath his black tank top. "Do you have any sugar?" He questioned grouchily—voice monotone and flat as he awaited for the girl that struggled to sputter out a single, comprehensible word. Too gobsmacked at his presence to even formulate a proper greeting. "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You squeaked out without a thought, almost fighting the urge to palm yourself in the face when you received nothing but a quirked eyebrow in response. You quickly recompose, “I’ll go get you some. Please wait here.”

He only nods, looking away when you close the door shut and place the chain back on. You were quick to strut into your kitchen, swinging open the cupboards and nearly dropping the bag of sugar to the floor once you reached for it. Your eyes flicker to the last few cupcakes left out from your previous baking session, nearly scoffing at the idea of offering him some again. Saving yourself the embarrassment, you opt to return with the coffee mug filled with its requested contents only. Unlocking the chain to swing your door open, you stand composedly as you press your lips, the small amount of chapstick you’ve applied hours ago causes them to slide and spread the moisture. “Here—“

"I’m not one to meddle with something that’s clearly not my business, but you should really keep an eye out for your kid.” He suddenly interjects, making you stop in your tracks. The hand holding the mug of sugar is stretched back to your chest, your eyes narrow into slits at the sudden remark. “Excuse me?”

He clicks his tongue in disinterest, “Some neighbourhood kids are bothering him. You might wanna do something about that.” Sukuna vaguely explains. Judging from the slack expression and stiffened posture, his suspicions are confirmed once he notes how stunned you look from the sudden news. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

You blink, shaking your head slowly in dismay. Your hand squeezes the mug hard enough it could crumble into dust under your fist. “No..he didn’t.” You admit sullenly. Zion has never hid anything from you before. If anything, your son has been an open book to you his entire life. Perhaps he didn’t want you to worry, or wanted to handle things himself knowing how boys can be. But no eight year should be shouldering such experiences on his own, not when you have signed a life-time oath to be his protector amongst the long list of several other nouns.

“I only intervened once. But don’t expect me to do it every time.” Sukuna states firmly, not hesitating to establish boundaries between you two. His chocolate orbs pierce yours as you nod in understanding. “Thank you..for stepping in.” You trail off quietly, eyes flickering to the mug in your hand before meeting his potent gaze. “And for telling me. I-I never thought Zion would hide something like that from me.” You stammer anxiously. “He’s a boy. It’d be weird if he didn’t hide anything from you.” Sukuna retorts bluntly, his expression unreadable. You can only nod again—mouth dry and chest constricted. Gulping, your cheeks puff out like a pine squirrel as you exhale large and exaggerated breaths. Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, watching you tug at the collar of your shirt nervously. “Is it getting hot in here?” You exasperate, shamelessly blowing air inside of your shirt through the hole of your collar right in front of him.

“Are you okay—”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just—“ You breathe out in a panic-stricken manner. “This is the phase, right?” You don’t await for Sukuna to respond, as he only continues to stare at you warily. Blabbering incoherently, you continue, “The phase where they start hiding stuff and then it’s the blatant lying before they grow up to be teenagers and start sneaking around and talking back—Do you want some cupcakes?” Your thumb jerks behind you and over your shoulder. Sukuna blinks, taking a minute or so to process your rant. Nevertheless, his face remains neutral, “No thanks.”

Sighing in defeat, your shoulders slump before resting the back of your hand against your forehead, eyes screwed shut in embarrassment before you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry it’s just..that’s never happened before.” You explained quietly, “Thank you again..for letting me know. Zion did say you were nice.” The corner of your lips began to quirk up into a lacklustre smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Sukuna doesn’t mirror your expression. He nods slowly at your words. “You have a good night.” He mutters, before turning on his heel to walk back into his apartment. The door quietly shuts behind him. With a defeated sigh, you look down at your hand, relaxing your grip at your mug. And that's when you realised something.

He never wanted his sugar.

At some point, you knew you had to navigate and pinpoint the last splinter of courage you have left within you to knock on the door. Nevertheless, you continue pacing back and forth in the hallway anxiously, quietly chanting to yourself the same line you’ve been rehearsing in your head like a mantra. It’s comical now that you think about it; how confronting an eight year old has your palms twitching and the nape of your neck sweating profusely. From a stranger’s point of view, you could come across as paranoid, perhaps unreasonably dramatic even. But you are a mother first above everything else, and it is your duty to ensure your son steers clear from harm’s way.

Somehow, and strange enough for you, you think you managed to successfully locate the shard of said courage, because your hand forms into a fist before knocking twice, the other nervously gripping the door handle and nearly slipping from your own sweat. “Zion? Can I come in?” You hear shuffling through the door before he calls back cheerfully, “Yes mama!”

With the way your heart’s beating erratically in your ribcage, you think you’re not too far off the mark from a soldier on the frontline who’s about to embark on a prodigious battle. In spite of that, you twist the door knob and sallied forth into his room with a struggling smile, “Hey—“

You don’t know what hits you first; the sudden feeling of disorientation, or the way your muscles fell rigid at the sight ahead of you. Zion only gives you a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the way your jaw falls slack as you frantically rush towards him. “Oh my god!” Your wide eyes flicker to the black sharpie clutched in his small hand in horror, your hands cradling his face as he giggles innocently at you. “W-What I—“ You were at a complete lose of words to say the least, your fingers trailing the messy black strokes drawn on his chin, across his nose and down the sides of his cheeks. “Peanut, what did you?” You stressed, careful to not raise your voice. Completely unaware of your tantrum, Zion only beams at you, his blatant enthusiasm unfaltering, “Now no one gets to make fun of me!”

It was the exuberant smile depicted on his visage, plus the recollection of your encounter with a certain rosey haired man that caused a striking realisation to wash all over you. Still in a daze, your hand drops from Zion’s cheek, falling immobile at your sides as you blink at him. He seemed to pick up on your sudden change in demeanour, because the corner of his lips curve downwards into a concerned frown, his eyes wide as he looks up to you once you stand tall. He tilts his head, “Mommy?”

“Grab my hand, please.” You request with a sigh, stretching your arm for him to hold. He does so without a drop of reluctance, eyes not leaving your crestfallen face as you guide him out of his room and right outside of your apartment. The trek to the apartment across you is short. Your eyes are fixed on the bolded two digits nailed to the door with a hard glare, unable to keep your blatant anger from erupting as you knock in urgency. Clearly, you weren’t the only one undergoing a fit of pique, because he swings the door open with eyebrows knitted in visible irritation. He snaps at you with a scowl, “What?”

“Look!” You point at Zion furiously, who only waves at Sukuna energetically. You catch the look of shock that momentarily flashes in his cocoa eyes, unable to veil the surprise in his visage when he sees the scribbles littered on Zion’s face. “Suku, I look just like you now! Now those boys won’t pick on me anymore!” Your son chirps.

“That is not something to be proud of, Zion.” You warn, before hearing a quiet chuckle erupt in front of you. Your head snaps towards Sukuna, seeing a loop sided smirk on his face. “You think this is funny?” You hiss, your forehead puckered. He only shrugs with disinterest, crossing his arms over his broad chest before leaning on the doorframe lazily, “It kinda is.”

Unable to bite back your tongue any longer, you decide to display your clear agitation when your son’s completely out of sight. Looking down at the giddy eight year old, you pat his scalp gently, your voice much softer compared to earlier. “Zion, can you go back inside, please? And don’t wash up until I’m back.” He cranes his neck to look at you, nodding obediently before slipping his hand from yours. “Bye Suku!” He waves happily before skipping back inside. You wait until the door clicks shut before your eyes meet Sukuna’s once more, “I don’t know what you told him—“

“I didn’t tell him anything.” He quickly refutes your accusation with an arched eyebrow. He notes the scowl on your face as you ball your hand into fists. Nevertheless, he continues, “What? It’s my fault that an impressionable ten year old happened to gain some inspiration?”

“Partially, yes!” You argue back, too absorbed in your own anger to bother correcting him. Sukuna, however, clenches his jaw at the way you suddenly raised your voice at him. Placing a hand on the doorframe for support, he bends down to your level predatorily with a harsh glare, and you find yourself shrinking under his gaze as regret began to seep through your veins.

“Is it really? Or did you just want an excuse to knock on my door?” He cocks his head to the side. You only stare at him bug-eyed, mouth parted but not uttering a single word. He doesn’t pay any mind to your lack of speech, but rather sighs as he stands up straight, “I did that to myself once.” He begins. His voice is low, his words are for you alone. “When I was his age, I drew on my face with a sharpie.” Sukuna elaborates, running his hand through his locks. You scoff, folding your arms over your chest, “Is that supposed to be comforting? Knowing there’s a possibility my son’s gonna tattoo his face ten years from now?”

Leaning on the doorframe again, he arches a sly eyebrow at you. The silver barbell pierced through his skin glistens under the hallway light for a split second. “Do you not like my tattoos?” He asks amusingly. “Well, yeah when it’s on your face not my kid’s.” You mutter absentmindedly with a playful roll of your eyes, before your facial expression falters in realisation. Your widened eyes meet his dark chocolate ones, and you find it hard to look away when his lips curve upwards into a smirk. “I mean..”

Before you had the opportunity to make a fool out of yourself even more, you hear the faucet running in the background behind you. Letting out a small curse word under your breath, you leave the inked man to his devices once you hear your son call out for you pleadingly.

“Mommy! It’s in my eye!”

The universe must have an odd sense of humour, because unfortunately for you, you’ve crossed paths with Sukuna too many times for your likening after your encounter. And conveniently enough, it was always when you three shared an elevator; meaning you had absolutely no escape route given you were still embarrassed from your previous slip up. Piping the icing on the cake, Zion always seemed to be the catalyst for a conversation starter too. For reasons unknown to you, he seemed to have a sudden spike of interest in Sukuna; bombarding him with a fusillade of questions at every given opportunity. In one of the many occasions you’ve shared an elevator with the mentioned; Zion, this time, asks about his occupation.

“Suku? Are you a painter?” He asks, curiosity lingering with his words as he munches on a baby carrot. His eyes study the black bands around the taller man’s wrists, to the ones peeking through his jumper. Disinterestedly, Sukuna keeps looking ahead as the elevator began to move up. “I’m a piercer. And stop calling me that.”

“Piercer?” Zion scrunches up his face. Choosing not to stick your nose into their conversation, you can only wait impatiently for the elevator to reach your floor, ignoring the way your shoulder continuously brushes against the man next to you. “Yes piercer,” Sukuna affirms, before looking down at the eight year old with a blank expression on his face. “I shove needles into people for money.” He elaborates bluntly. You’d think at this point, Zion would let the conversation die out, but unsurprisingly, he presses even more. “What’s that like?” He inquires quizzically, taking another baby carrot out of the small zip bag in his hands before sinking his teeth into it with a loud crunch. “Busy.” Sukuna states flatly, but he doesn’t stop there. With a cunning smirk, he deliberately attempts to frighten the child, “And then you have the blood. And the snot, and the—“

You snapped your head towards Sukuna with a scowl, but your son’s reaction stops you from intervening. “Wow..” Zion’s eyes widen in astonishment. Too bewildered with the newly shared information, his jaw falls slack, allowing a full view of the mushed carrots in his mouth. You almost politely remind him to not speak with his mouth full before he quickly swallowed down his bite. Craning his neck, he meets your soft gaze with twinkled moon eyes. “Mama, can I be a piercer?”

That’s..not what Sukuna expected.

What he did expect, however, was a cold, harsh no from you; given most parents would want their children to venture out into career paths that held promising futures; medicine, law, engineering. Amongst the sea of occupations, a piercer was not a negotiable card on the table. And a small fraction within him was actually hoping you wouldn’t snipe off the small root of creativity germinating in your son’s head.

Sukuna’s eyes shift to you with a raised eyebrow in discrete anticipation for your answer. “You can be...” You trail off, before placing your hands on Zion’s shoulders. You give him a small squeeze, your lips stretched into a comforting smile. “Whatever you want to be.” You finish, eliciting a toothy grin from your son. The man blinks, taken back from your response. Zion, on the other hand, toddles his way into another topic when he addresses Sukuna once more. “We’re having Lebanese for dinner. Have you ever tried Lebanese, Suku?” He beams.

“Yeah, I have.” Sukuna replies, his mind shamelessly casting itself back to the long onyx hair, olive skin and smooth curves belonging to one of his many flings. He holds back a snicker when he continues, “In bed.” Catching on to the double meaning, you’re quick to reach for the elevator buttons, pressing on your floor number frantically in order to cut the conversation short. “But mommy said to never eat food in bed.” Zion points out innocently.

“Maybe mommy needs to try out different places to eat.”

You thank the heavens above when the elevator stops with a loud ding. Impetuously bidding a quick goodbye as you pulled Zion out in a hurry, ignoring the sly chuckle erupting from behind you. And you nearly curse yourself in your head for allowing his words to leave an impact on you, because your face doesn’t fail to heat up swelteringly at his remark.

Considering the fact you haven’t been in the dating scene for as long as you could remember, it was safe to say you found it challenging when communicating appropriately with the opposite sex. After all, your time was preoccupied with either caring for your eight year old or finishing up a work report; so if the conversation didn’t include recipes to sugar free cupcakes or managing excel sheets, you were a lost cause. Perhaps that’s why you could only squeak out a quick goodbye rather than addressing Sukuna’s sly comment. You weren’t sure where it came from either, considering he wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at you in the past five years you’ve been neighbours.

The next time you share an elevator where the experience renders you speechless once again, was during the time Christmas was around the corner. With you and Zion just returning from a small shopping spree in preparation for the holidays, a tattooed hand suddenly stops the elevator doors from closing, and you found yourself gulping involuntarily when the doors slide open to reveal no other than the devil incarnate himself.

“Suku!” Zion exclaims, watching the older man walk into the elevator with his shoulders slumped tiredly, a vermilion winter jacket hugging his broad frame tightly. “Sukuna.” He corrects with a sigh, giving you a small nod of acknowledgment. He stands next to you as always, leaning against the wall with his red-rimmed eyes fluttered shut. You can only assume he had just recently returned from work as you discretely note his fatigued posture. “What are you doing for Christmas?” Zion asks once the elevator door close shut. You give your son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, hoping he would get the hint to not press your neighbour like every other occasion given his current state. However, Sukuna pays no mind to it. With his head leaned back and eyes remained shut, he mutters, “Stuff a kid like you wouldn’t know.”

“Like what?” Sukuna cracks one eye open to see the eight year old looking up to him with sheer curiosity. Defeatedly, he straightens his spine and shoves his hands into his pocket before answering more clearly, “Well..I drink lots of adult juice.”

You can only agree with him in your head, considering glasses of cheap red wine seemed to be your new best friend once Zion hits the sack on Christmas Eve. “Adult juice?” Your son repeats quizzically, before his face lightens up in realisation. “I know what that is!” He exclaims proudly, “Mommy drinks it too. Does it hurt when you do it by the way? Because she always cries when she does.”

“Zion!” You shriek in embarrassment, your mind casting itself back to the one time you actually chose to have a drink in front of your son—an occasion where you ended up pathetically crying in front of an eight year old over an old movie from the 80s. Fortunately for you, the elevator doors slide open at the most convenient time, because you’re quick to usher your son out before he spews more of your secretive penchants to your attractive neighbour. “Wait!” Zion calls out as you unlock the door to your apartment. He turns to look at Sukuna, whose also on the verge of entering his own apartment. “Won’t you spend Christmas with your mama?” Zion cocks his head to the side, luminescent eyes glinting with wonder. Sukuna stiffens, lips pursed. His heavy-lidded eyes flicker to you momentarily, before shifting back to your son. “No.” He simply says.

“Why?” Zion questioned. You give his hand a small squeeze nervously before you interject, “Peanut—“

“I don’t have one.”

Your eyes snap towards Sukuna, who only has a tight lipped frown on his face. The silence that fell after his response was almost tangible, and you couldn’t help but sympathise with him. Regardless of how he built too many walls around himself but not enough bridges, no one should be spending the holidays on their own. You place both hands on Zion’s shoulders, who stands in front of you with another carrot in his mouth, his small back pressed against the lower half of your legs. Bravely, you ask, “Would you..like to spend Christmas with us?”

He didn’t seem to appreciate your proposal, because his cocoa eyes narrow into slits when his head snaps towards you, “If this is you taking pity on me—“

“I’m not!” You quickly interject, “I was just..wondering if you wanted to join us, it’s Christmas after all.” You shrug. His visage is indecipherable when he blinks at you, eyebrows still furrowed. When his eyes dart to Zion, the little boy gives him an eager nod with a contagious grin, inaudibly urging him to say yes.

He doesn’t give you an answer that day, and he surely didn’t plan on spending the holidays on your couch with your son wedged in between both of you as you all munch on some pretzels with the TV switched on for background noise. But when he catches the ivory invitation card that slipped through the small gap underneath his door, followed by the sound of small footsteps rushing back into the apartment across from his, he couldn’t help the small chuckle that reverberates in his chest when he reads through card. The messy strokes belonged to the handwriting of an eight year old surely, but the vocabulary usage was a clear indication that you helped him write it out.

Special invite card! Only invitees. No plus ones please! Only for the special (nice) ones.

To: Suku

From: Zion (And mommy)

Come spend Christmas at the [Last name]’s! Where you can enjoy Christmas movies, skrabl scrabble and Swedish cupcakes Gingerbread houses!

Time: 7PM

Place: Apartment 22B

P.S: Adult juices are a no no until Zion’s bedtime :D

He’d like to think something as minuscule as an invite card wouldn’t cause him to have a sudden change of heart, so he has absolutely no explanation as to why he knocked on your door from the first place. The look of surprise was clear as day on your face when you swung the door open to see him stood there with his usual scowl at 7PM precisely, and you didn’t have the chance to formulate a greeting before Zion suddenly wedged himself past you with a cheerful, “Suku, you came!”

Sukuna would also like to think he didn’t enjoy the time he spent with you two that day. How he helped you two bake a sugar-free gingerbread house (seriously, he didn’t understand why you always made your sweets sugar free, but when he watched you give Zion his regular insulin shots before dinner, he clamps his mouth shut before asking). How he intentionally kept losing to Zion while playing word games since your son seemed to be at the peak of the mountains with every win. How he reluctantly agreed when Zion begged him to stay back for a Christmas movie marathon (You suggested to watch The Grinch instead of Home Alone, claiming Sukuna might resonate with the lime-green, pear shaped creature more. He doesn’t laugh, although he bites back a smile for the sake of maintaining his facade).

Yup, definitely didn’t enjoy it.

“I love Santa. He promised me he’ll make my wish come true last year, but I think he was really busy because it didn’t happen yet. I—“

“You met Santa?” Sukuna interrupts Zion, reaching for another pretzel and popping it in his mouth. Your mini duplicate shifts in his seat, his head moves in a firm nod, “Uh-huh. He and the elfs stopped by at the mall last year.” Zion replies confidently. You pat his small head with a smile, heart warming up to the way his doe eyes shimmer with ardour at the mentioned. Sukuna, on the other hand, snorts mockingly. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s just some old, fat guy dressed in a—“

Instinctively, your hand reaches over behind Zion to smack him on the arm with the back of your hand in warning, right before he had the chance to permanently change the trajectory of your son’s childhood. He gives you a harsh glare, “What?”

“Are you the grinch? Why would you say something like that?” You hiss angrily. Unlike you, Sukuna seemed nonchalant and unaware of the weight his words carried. He only rolls his hickory brown eyes dismissively, leaning back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head. “Kids grow out of that shit anyway. Consider it a favour.” You open your mouth to argue back, fighting the urge to spew vitriol at him. But a shaky voice stops you beforehand. “Mama,” Zion cranes his neck to look at you. His eyes growing glossy and bottom lip wobbling. “Santa’s..not real?”

The dejected look on his face pulled at your heartstrings. A shard punctures through your gut when his eyes began to water. “No, no, no peanut. Sukuna was just joking.” You quickly reassure tenderly, pulling him to your lap as you run your thumb underneath his lower lashline to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill at any given minute. Your face hardens when your eyes dart to Sukuna, “Right?”

He kisses his teeth in disinterest. “Yeah, right. Santa’s real. Very real.” He replies sardonically. Zion turns to face him, still situated on your lap. To your concern, his bottom lip doesn’t stop quivering. “B-But you sai—“

“It was a lie. Adults lie.”

“So you’re lying now!” Zion cries out, sadness coursing down his cheeks in a flood of uncontrollable tears. His chin trembles and his hiccups are choked up. You refrain from telling him to stop crying, given it’s not ideal to dismiss a child’s feelings. You don’t want to deliver the message of suppressing his own emotions given how unhealthy that could be for him in the long run. Normally, you would intervene to deescalate the situation, but you think Sukuna deserves it anyway for spewing such comments to an eight year old without thought. Instead, you opt to rubbing Zion’s back comfortably as he unleashes his emotions on him, rightfully so. You mutter in his ear to not forget to breathe as you wipe his tears away with your thumb. It worked like every other time he threw a temper tantrum because his breathing rate seemed to stabilise with every rub you give him. Sukuna sits up, “Kid—“

“Liar liar pants on fire!” Zion accuses. The situation seemed inconsolable, and you momentarily consider asking Sukuna to leave before he speaks up more firmly. “He’s real because I know him.” You only look at him questionably, unsure where he was going with this. “I’ll even get him to come tomorrow, alright? Now quit whining.” Sukuna huffs, leaning back on the couch. Curiously, you look down to see Zion, who fell silent at the older man’s words. His face is still hot, but the tears have stopped long ago. To your surprise, he jumps off your lap and drags his feet towards Sukuna. He lifts his hand, which is formed into a fist with only his pinky pointed outwards. There’s a small glint in his doe eyes. His long eyelashes clamped together from previous tears. “Promise?”

Sukun’s pride told him not to interlock his pinky finger with him. But he’s succumbed into the look Zion gives him, and betrays himself by doing it anyway. In silent acquiescence, he sighs, “Promise.”

His promise seemed trivial to you, and you can’t help but grow worrisome that he might not even keep his word. You’ve considered taking Zion to the mall to meet ‘Santa’ in case Sukuna fails to show up with one. You weren’t sure why you had so much faith in him either given the short amount of time you spent together. Nevertheless, you receive a text from him the very next day, telling you to stay put until he’s done with his shift at work. Admittedly, you felt the nape of your neck heat up scorchingly when Sukuna asked to exchange numbers last night before retiring to his apartment. You didn’t question it at the time, although you couldn’t understand the need for it given you were right across the hall from each other.

When your living room bellowed with the sound of three consecutive knocks on your front door, your palm involuntarily grew clammy. Your eyes flicker to Zion momentarily, whose preoccupied with ensuring his blanket fort is assembled to perfection for his ‘special guest’. You don’t know what you expected when you peered through the peephole. Perhaps it was a figment of your imagination, or your mind playing tricks on you, because you simply couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of you when you swung the door open to see Sukuna dressed in a crimson red, white fur trimmed jacket with matching pants. His shell-pink hair’s hidden underneath a stocking hat of a similar shade, a snow-white beard concealing half of his sculpted face. Although you can still see the tattoos etched on his forehead and across the bridge of his nose.

“Ho, ho, ho.” Sukuna greets unenthusiastically. Too dumbfounded at his appearance, you stumble upon your own words, “Wh–What are you—“

“Talk later.” He mutters, before walking past you and into your apartment. Your eyes catch the small gift bag in his hands. And with your mind too clouded with shock, you barely notice Zion emerging from the living room to see both of you stood near the door. The little one only blinks, head tilted in curiosity as he examines ‘Santa Clause’ from head to toe. Involuntarily, you bit your knuckle to ease your nerves, and you could see Sukuna gulping from your periphery. There’s no possible way he couldn’t tell it who it was under the custom, there’s just no way he—

“Santa!” Zion exclaims, sprinting on his little feet towards the man in red. You give Sukuna a small push from behind, and he grunts at your actions before picking Zion up from under his armpits. “You really came!” He beams, completely astonished with his presence. Sukuna’s eyes dart to you momentarily, before securing his hold on your Zion. He clears his throat, “Of course I did, you’re on my nice list. I always give those who behave a surprise visit.”

“Then why didn’t you come through the chimney?” Zion cocks his head quizzically. You stifle a laugh, deciding to spare Sukuna the misery and actually intervene. “Peanut, don’t you wanna show Santa your fort?” You offer, patting his scalp. Your son nods enthusiastically, before urging Sukuna to put him down. Without a drop of hesitation, he’s quick to latch his hand with the older man before dragging him to the living room to show off his blanket fort, before urging him to join him inside the heap of white sheets decorated with fairy lights. You left the two males to their devices, biting back a smile every time you hear Zion’s giggle in the distance from where you stood in the kitchen. Never in a million years would you think someone as choleric as Sukuna to put in such effort to compensate for his comments last night, and the thought only proves more difficult for you to stifle a laugh when you remember the glum look on his face, paired with his choice of attire when he first stepped inside your apartment.

When you return to the living room moments later with a tray of food, you can hear sudden hushes erupting from the fort. Their conversation suddenly dies out at the sound of your approaching footsteps. “Knock knock.” You call out mischievously, your voice causes Zion to poke his head through the blankets with a gleaming grin. “Cookies and milk for you and Santa.” You present the tray. Your words seemed to summon Sukuna, because comically enough, he follows short, and pokes his head out too right next to Zion. “Can I get a beer?”

Your face playfully hardens at his sudden request, yet your mouth dries when his right eye suddenly drops into a wink. Flustered, you clear your throat as you avoid his gaze timorously, averting your attention to Zion who pries the blankets open to reveal the cloud of pillows scattered underneath them. “Mommy, join us!” He pats the empty space to his left eagerly. You open your mouth to decline politely, but Sukuna beats you to the punch before you have the chance to do so.

“Yeah mommy, join us,” The term is heavy on his tongue. He smirks, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, brown cinnamon eyes swirling with a gleam of deviltry. “We have plenty of space.” He urges. You’re unsure where the mystifying root of listlessness emerged from within Sukuna, but you find yourself hesitantly crawling inside the fort to join them anyway. “What were you guys talking about?” You question, giving Zion a playful nudge with your shoulder. “That’s a secret!” He exclaims, before giving you a sympathetic look. “Sorry mama, but Santa told me if I say my wish out loud to someone it won’t come true.”

“You made a wish?” Your eyebrows crease, averting your gaze to Sukuna for a split second. He gives you a curt nod—a silent indication that he would further explain at a different time.

Surrounded by the decorations of pine trees, tinsel and reindeers—the three of you indulge in long lasting conversations and never ending laughs. As the hours pass, you witness Sukuna’s facade strip away progressively. The usual scowl is long gone, replaced by a loop sided smirk every time he mischievously bites into the cookie in Zion’s hands whenever the boy looks away, eliciting a small giggle from you when your little one looks back to the much smaller biscuit with a dazed look of bewilderment. Sukuna was no longer the same man that slammed the door in your face after rejecting your sugar-free Swiss meringues, but was actually growing amiable with the time he spends in your company.

The night’s cut short when your son falls asleep, but he doesn’t fully succumb into his slumber until he presses a spontaneous kiss to the tip of Sukuna’s nose. He sleepily mutters with his eyes fluttered shut, “Thank you, Suku.”

Although his face was concealed with the false Santa beard, you don’t fail to pick up the rosey tinge that germinates across Sukuna’s face at Zion’s sudden display of affection. He looks at you bug-eyed, almost asking you for guidance on what to do next with the eight year old cushioned to his side. You only cradle your son into your arms, whispering to Sukuna that you’ll be gone momentarily to tuck him into bed. To your astonishment, you return to see Sukuna cleaning up the heap of blankets and pillows as he dissembles the fort. His hat and milky white beard long disregarded, red jacket draped over the couch to reveal the black tank top hugging his muscular chest.

“You don’t have to.” You rush to his side, taking the sheets out of his grasp. Your face heats up when you meet his gaze. His Tom Ford cologne dominates your nasal canal. “You’ve done enough just by showing up, really.” You trail off softly, folding the sheets before placing them on the couch near his jacket. He straightens his back, “It was nothing—“

“It was something.” You correct, gaze unyielding. A small smile touched upon the corners of your mouth, “You did more than you should’ve. I can’t thank you enough.”

Sukuna gulps, his eyes glazed with unfathomable emotion when they flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second. It doesn’t fly over your head. You only look down sheepishly, before picking up the tray and moving to the kitchen. Your ears perk up to the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, but your back continues to face him as you put away the empty plates and cups inside the dishwasher. “What did he wish for? I’m going to the mall tomorrow so I can start buying his gifts.” You enquire, shutting the dishwasher closed and grabbing a nearby towel to begin wiping away at the kitchen counter.

“It’s not something you can buy.”

His response catches you off guard. Surely the pay checks deposited into your bank account thanks to your your corporate job didn’t provide the utmost luxury, but it was enough for the basic necessities you and your son need to live a comfortable life. Warily, you slowly look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest. “What..are you insinuating?”

He sighs, unfolding his arms before his hands grip the edge of the island. “I’m saying it’s not an item you can just wrap up and put it under a tree, it’s..” Something seemed to be holding him back from telling you what it is, but he allows his conscious to win when he sees the look of concern flashing in your eyes. “He asked for you to stop crying in your room before you sleep.” You heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers freeze when you stammer, “He..he can hear that?”

“Probably if that’s what he wished for.” Sukuna replies. He takes note of the way you immediately downcast your eyes to the towel in your hands. Lips pursed as you fiddle with the fabric in shame. You involuntarily gulp when you hear his voice once more. “Look, it’s none of my business but..” He begins, “You should start looking out for yourself. Not just for his sake, but yours too.” Sukuna advices. His cocoa eyes are varnished with sympathy, although he remains composed, and manages to maintain a neutral expression.

A dry chuckle reverberates in your chest, eyes still entranced with the small threads of fabric poking out of the kitchen towel. Your tongue pokes through your cheek as you blink away threatening tears. “It’s just..it gets hard sometimes, y’know? Zion’s smart, he doesn’t even ask about his dad and—“ You pause to let out a shaky breath before looking up to meet Sukuna’s gaze. “I can’t even tell if I’m doing a good job or not.”

The road to motherhood was no easy journey; receiving inconvenient stares from strangers for nursing a crying newborn, to collecting food stamps and breastfeeding Zion in public restrooms because society has ruthlessly shamed women like you for simply feeding their child in public. You’ve come a long way building yourself up from scratch to provide a promising future for your son. Although it was inevitable that you’d come across a few speed bumps that would ultimately lead to you confining yourself in your room after Zion’s bedtime, your own pillow soaked with dolorous tears.

“You’re a good mum, [Name].” Sukuna replies immediately. His tone flat and strict. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.” His words struck a cord in your heart. You shake your head in denial when you answer quietly, “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah I do, you’re like superwoman.” You couldn’t help the small laugh erupting from your mouth, yet your breath hitches in your throat when he suddenly takes a few steps towards you to decrease the distance. A surprised yelp escapes your lips when he grabs the hood part of your jumper over your head. He chuckles, “Wear your cape proudly.”

When you look up to meet his gaze, he can’t help but scan your face studiously given the close proximity. The eye lines that resembled the veins of deep ivy leaves stretched to join the dark bags underneath, ones you attempted to shield away with a layer of concealer. It only signified the restless hours you spend carrying your child on your back through quicksand on his voyage to growth. Sukuna undoubtedly found it absurd that you would even second guess your parenting skills from the first place. “Y’know..if you need help with anything, I don’t mind lending a hand.” He found himself offering as he scratches the back of his neck. You tilt your head quizzically, your eyes glint with a look of amusement. “Help?” You repeat.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat. You don’t fail to notice the way he attempts to discretely puff out his chest in a dominant manner. “Like changing your lightbulb. That kind of thing.” Sukuna elaborates lowly. Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip to prevent a smile from growing. His eyes flicker to your mouth once more. “Did I happen to give the impression that I can’t change my own lightbulb?” You retort teasingly.

“Never,” Sukuna chuckles, “you’re superwoman, remember?” He gives you a playful flick on your forehead. The corner of his lip curves upwards just a little bit, but enough for a familiar warmth to travel through your veins. But to your dismay, your interaction’s cut short when he says: “I should go, it’s getting late.”

You only nod in understanding, concealing the sheer of disappointment on your face with a small smile. “Good night, [Name].” He whispers, as if afraid the walls might hear and pick up on his sudden change of persona compared to when you first knocked on his door with a container of cupcakes in hand. “Good night.” You found yourself whispering back, watching him pivot on his heel to step outside your kitchen. You place your hand over your chest to attempt to control your speeding heart rate, but your attempts are futile. You suddenly chuck the kitchen towel in your hand onto the counter to catch up to him.

“Sukuna?” You call out softly once you step out of the kitchen. You see his hand already reaching for the door, his red jacket slung over his shoulder. He turns to look at you tiredly, his rosey hair slack against his forehead from the long hours of wearing his Santa hat. “Thank you.” You say. He’s unsure whether if you’re thanking him for his actions tonight, or for his words of encouragement from earlier. Nevertheless, his mouth stretches, only this time it’s not his signature, cunning smirk.

For the first time, he wholeheartedly smiles at you.

You’d like to believe you’re an attractive woman—perhaps not someone that would win Miss Universe by default, but you were confident enough to know that you can easily score someone if you jump back into the dating scene with the correct set of tools in your arsenal.

With Zion away to his monthly sleepover at the Fushiguro’s again, your co-worker jumped at the first opportunity to set you up on a blind date with an acquaintance of hers. Although you were reluctant to agree at first, you trusted her judgement when she claimed you two would click off instantly. You’ve planned your night to the T; he would pick you up at 10PM for drinks at a hotel bar and he would return you home two hours later for a quick fuck—the perfect way to release the sexual frustration bottled up within you. Surely, you did not expect to meet prince charming himself tonight, but if sitting through two hours of tequila sunrise and a one sided-conversation meant you’d finally get to relieve yourself sexually, then so be it.

That was until the clock struck twelve, and it is then you realised you’ve been ditched.

The oyster white mini-dress you were lucky to get your hands on before it ran out of stock seemed to have gone to waste, right along with the diamond earrings hung from your ears like icicles and the nude makeup you’ve spent the last two hours perfecting.

An absolute waste, and you were seethed beyond words.

Your heeled foot was tapping in a staccato rhythm on the floor as your eyes kept impatiently darting to the ticking clock hung on the wall. Your manicured nail grazes the rim of the wine glass in your hand. With a sudden huff, you stand up from your seat on the couch before stomping to your bedroom. You were clearly taking your frustrations out on the inanimate object as you yanked your underwear drawer open, digging through the heaps of bras and panties for a certain purple object.

If your date wasn’t showing up, then you’d just have to take matters into your own hands.

Clearly, the universe was not on your side tonight. Because conveniently enough, once you plugged the charger into the socket for your vibrator, the usual green LED light that would indicate it’s been switched on didn’t appear according to your expectations. “No, no, no.” You mutter frustratingly, letting out a groan of annoyance as you pulled it out and blew air into the charger plug before sticking it into the socket once more. Nevertheless, the vibrator remains dead. Out of pure exasperation, you couldn’t help but gulp down on your Pinot Noir until not a single drop of red is left.

The familiar reality of spending another night alone under the sheets was a bitter one to swallow. Tasting like a foul medicine that soaked through your tastebuds as you let out a childish whine. You’ve been waiting for this day for months, been waiting to get dicked down for months. You think you deserve that much after involuntarily being celibate for so long given you had a child to care for. Perhaps you were naïve for entrusting your coworker and sacrificing the one night you have for yourself, or maybe you were just simply unlucky. Because the odds were never in your favour whenever you choose to flip the two sided coin.

“Y’know..if you need help with anything, I don’t mind lending a hand.”

At first, you couldn’t help but belt out a laugh at the obscure thought that suddenly occurred to you. You tell yourself that maybe you should lay off the alcohol even though you’re only on your first drink, but when your eyes flickered to the charger cable that refused to work, along with the combined effect of the ache between your thighs that desperately required attention; a spurt of boldness from an unknown source suddenly surged through your body. It didn’t even take a minute for you to ponder over your thoughts before the alcohol getting soaked up in your bloodstream has you suddenly charging out of your apartment.

You really shouldn’t be doing this; disturbing your neighbour because you were simply too horny to tend to your own needs. You’ve only just recently managed to get him to warm up to you, and there’s a very slim chance he’ll indulge into your wishes. If anything, he’ll probably scoff at your request before slamming the door shut on your face. But before you know it, you find yourself stood in front of Sukuna’s apartment. It only took a minute or so before you hear the lock clicking when you leave two knocks on his door. Dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweets, your eyes drink in his disheveled salmon pink hair when he opens the door. A pang of guilt sinks into you when he rubs his eye with the palm of his hand, face scrunched up confusingly at your presence. He opens his mouth to speak groggily, his voice hoarse. “[Name]? What’s wron—“

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You blurt without a thought. Your words seemed to have washed away all traces of sleep because his chestnut eyes widen, his pupils narrowing to the point it seemed to flee from the expanding whites of his eyes. You don’t fail to notice how the hand gripping the doorknob tightens so suddenly, his knuckles flushed a daisy white.

Static. That’s all you can hear. Howbeit, his eyes narrow into slits once he processed what you’ve just said, “What?”

Not a jot of pride was left within you when you began to blether, “I just had a glass of wine and even though I’m not a lightweight I still ramble a lot when I drink, y’know? Which is why I’m here making a fool out of myself but—“ The usual stoicity growing on his face causes the tone of your voice to cease insecurely. With a sigh of defeat, your shoulders slump. “I’m horny and I’m lonely..and I’m desperate.”

Sukuna blinks at you, brows knitted in a frown. Your rant only confirmed his suspicions as to where your son got his tendency to ramble from. Although the silence that fell between you two was deafening no doubt, your heart began to involuntarily do somersaults as he only continues to glare at you with visible irritation. You found it difficult to comprehend as to why he would be angry at your request. Stunned? As expected. But vexed? It was a mystery to you. Surely, no man would turn down an offer to sex with no strings attached?

“You’re drunk,” Sukuna bluntly adds to your list of adjectives. You don’t miss the way his eyes shamelessly rake your bare legs, momentarily stopping at the flesh of your thighs where the hem of your mini-dress ends. “I’ll do us both a favour and pretend this never happened. Go home.” He states tiredly, refusing to meet your eyes as he attempts to cut the conversation short by closing the door. Stupefied, you suddenly slap your palm against the wooden door to keep it from closing. His head snaps up towards you when you simultaneously stick your foot in the doorway. “I’m not that drunk, plus you did say if I need any help I can come to you, right?” You breathe out unrelentingly, desperation laced with your words.

“Yeah, something like changing your lightbulb not canoodling.” He retorts stiff-backed. You furrow your eyebrows at his choice of words. Had it not been the true nature as to why you’re stood at his apartment door, you would’ve childishly laughed at how Zion’s vocabulary was clearly rubbing off on Sukuna. Too engrossed in your own needs, you don’t notice the close proximity between you two. He restrains himself with every fibre of his being to not let his greedy eyes wander to the swell of your breasts that is further accentuated thanks to your skin tight dress.

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose frustratingly, eyes screwed shut to collect his thoughts before he defeatedly meets your gaze. “Where’s your kid anyway shouldn’t you be taking care of him?” He attempts to steer the subject elsewhere. “He’s at a sleepover.” You deadpanned, “I got set up on a blind date and they ditched so..” Sukuna could sense the brief disappointment from your countenance, but you quickly recompose when you straighten your back confidently. “Look, I’m not asking you to play house or father my kid here.” You begin, before boldly taking another step towards him. Gulping, you don’t hesitate to maintain the intensity of your gaze. “I’m asking you..to be my distraction for the night, can you do that?”

And God did he want to. His heart wanted to say yes but his head told him no. Ever since the day you moved in across the hall with a crying three year old in your arms and there was an instant attraction. All the women he’d blindly lead to his bed paled compared to you, his mind congested with only images of your face as he pounded into them from behind. Albeit, he didn’t want to jump into the first opportunity to have you in every single way he shamelessly fantasised about. He doesn’t want to act on an impulse when it comes to you. And to be quite frank, Sukuna himself isn’t sure if it would be ideal to take things a further step with you. Although your son has considerably warmed up to his presence, there’s also the possibility he might not appreciate a complete stranger suddenly meddling with their daily routine. Sukuna’s answer completely relied on the fact that he didn’t want to disturb the already established harmony of your home.

He sighs, “I don’t like repeating myself. Trust me, I have a better use for my mouth.” Your lips slightly part at the image that involuntarily makes its way to your mind, but he seems unaffected with the gravity of his words. “Go home, [Name].” He asserts.

You didn’t know what was more humiliating; that you’re rejected when you finally choose to indulge into the hubristic folly of attempting to sleep with someone, or that he didn’t want you. Unforeseeably, you were hurt more from the latter than the fact you’ve been ditched by your date tonight. “I..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so pushy it’s just—God what was I even thinking?” You self criticise shakily, before meeting Sukuna’s gaze with a blank stare. “Of course you wouldn’t sleep with me, I’m a mum.” You plainly point out. His rejection was clearly the hair breadth away from you completely dissolving your composure as you lost all sense of your words. “[Name]—“

“That’s all I do! Because when you look at me that’s all you see, right? Right?” Your eyes were in a frenzy as you press, ignoring the clear look of concern that painted your neighbour’s face. “You see the diaper changing, the boogers, the snot. The stupid sugar free fucking cupcakes!”

“Lower your voice.” He hisses, his hand immediately gripping your wrist in warning as he pulled you to his chest. His head turns left and right alarmingly to ensure there’s no one to eavesdrop on your conversation. You don’t pay any mind to his sudden change in demeanour. Rather, you snatch your wrist out of his grasp with a huff, before impulsively pulling down on the neckline of your dress to reveal the black lace bra that cuffed your breasts. “Look! I even wore my sexy lingerie for tonight, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve wore those?” You don’t give him a chance to reply, and you surely don’t comment on the way he shamelessly ogles at your chest with visible shock, his Adam’s apple bopping in his throat.

“Five years. And I haven’t had sex in over two years and God forbid a single mother uses a vibrator to appease her sexual urges because the fucking charger stopped working!” You whisper angrily, letting go of your neckline. Sukuna’s eyes travel back to your face. His lips were pursed in icy contempt, although his eyes were impenetrable. With a sigh, your spine hunched defeatedly. “I know I’m not as pretty as the girls you bring home—“

“Don’t you ever say that.” He snaps, jaw clenched. “You think if I didn’t have such strong restraints I wouldn’t have gave into my urges and fucked you long ago?” Your mouth dries, and your boldness is suddenly washed away at his confession. “W-What?” You squeak out.

“What.” He mocks, cocking his head to the side with his eyes slanted. “You wouldn’t have knocked on my door if you knew about the thoughts I’ve had of you. But you just keep coming back.” His hands unexpectedly came to wrap around your waist, pulling you to his chest securely. The action causes your breath to hitch in your throat, however, the sudden close in proximity allows you to study his inscrutable expression. It seemed that he was fighting an internal battle from succumbing in any second now. “When you came with those stupid cupcakes..” He lists, eyes entranced with your painted lips, before meeting your eyes in an unrelenting stare. “Or when you took the bin out in your granny underwear.”

“You saw that?!” You shriek in horror. But Sukuna continues either way, “Ever since you moved in and I couldn’t help but think of how you’d look underneath me, begging me for more even when it gets too much for you.” His grip on you tightens at the erotic thoughts. “Anyone would fail to keep their hands off you.” His words confounded you in its entirety. He grips your chin softly, tilting your head slightly as you look up to him wide eyed. “You are pretty, incredibly sexy too.” Sukuna assures. Somehow, you manage to find it within you to utter a word out. Bashfully, you softly ask, “Even in my granny underwear?”

His lips suddenly stretch into a wide smile, erupting a soft chuckle. His hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek in his palm. “Even in your granny underwear.” He repeats quietly with affirmation.

When you mirror his dumbstruck smile, he doesn’t hesitate to slant his lips over yours. You savour the softness of his lips as he cups your face with both hands. With your eyes fluttered shut, your knees turned into jello when his tongue slithered into your mouth, the texture of his metal piercing swiping over your wet muscle caused your heart to skip a beat. He claimed your mouth with such intensity and hunger it elicited a throaty sound from you. The smell of your perfume grew hypnotic beyond reason as he drank you in, before pulling away to suck on your bottom lip.

“Fuck, get in here.” He breathes into your mouth, eagerly pulling you inside his apartment and kicking the door shut. You don’t get the opportunity to observe his living room because he’s quick to press his lips against yours hastily, his hands finding their way to cradle your face once more. Parting your lips, you’re greeted with another intrusion by his tongue as he walks you backwards. You nearly stumble in your heels, your mouths separating with a quiet pop as you smile against his lips.

Too lost into the kiss, you moan into his mouth once your lower back suddenly met a cold, hard edge. Unable to control the yelp that erupts from you when he suddenly hoists you up onto the surface, your eyes snap open to see he had placed you on the island of his open space kitchen. His lips move to the juncture of your neck as he nuzzled himself between your legs. Sighing in content, you throw your head back to grant him more access. His yanks your heels off impatiently with your lips locked, yet you can’t help the shudder that runs up your spine when you feel his calloused hands sneaking up your thighs, gripping the waistband of your thong underneath your dress. He fights the urge from ripping it off completely. “Y’know..” He chuckles against your skin. “I didn’t think you’d be so straightforward.”

“Well I’m—hmph. I-I’m not exactly one for subtleties.” You mutter absentmindedly, your words running in together when he suctions on your neck and right above your pulse point. The mild stinging sensation causes you to involuntarily grip the roots of his pink locks. “That makes the two of us.” Sukuna retorts, pressing a kiss over the love bite before retracting from your neck. He simultaneously pulls your thong down your legs. The action only causes you to instinctively clamp your legs shut as realisation of what’s about to occur dawned on you.

Sukuna only yanks you closer to the edge of the island, arms wrapped around your waist. His lips meet yours again, and you found yourself melting into his kisses all over again. “You want me to stop?” He mumbles against your mouth, hands snaking up your thighs tortuously slow. “Hm?” His actions were so minuscule yet so rousing. It’s unfathomable how your mind’s already hazy and he barely started giving you the attention you ached for. You clench your thighs together even harder when his lips brush against yours. “No.” You breathe out, “Don’t stop.”

All of your senses unfurled when he crouches down slowly to level with your sex. He maintains imperative eye contact when he pries your legs open to reveal the wetness pooling between your thighs. “Pretty pussy..” He coos in admiration, your lips glistening underneath the kitchen light. His mouth finds its home on your skin once more, constructing a roadmap of feathered kisses from right above your knee and up to your inner thighs. You involuntarily flinch when his mouth neared your sex, your nerves suddenly overcoming you. With a shaky breath, you screw your eyes shut and tilt your head backwards when you feel his two digits separating your lips. His hot breath gives rise to the tiny elevations belonging to goosebumps all over your body. “Hey.” He lowly calls out. “Watch me.”

Reluctantly, you flutter your eyes open to see the kitchen ceiling light, before averting your gaze downwards to see your dress hunched up and his head between your legs. Sukuna’s hungry cocoa eyes are transfixed on your face only. Unblinkingly, he sticks his tongue out; flat across chin and revealing the silver barbell pierced through his muscle before he gives you a long lick upwards.

Your body reacted to him instinctively. Your jaw falling slack before you threw your head back. A hand squeezes your hip in warning, and you shamefully obey his unspoken command when you look down to see him looking up to you through his black eyelashes, his mouth anchored to your cunt as he slithered his pierced tongue around your pulsating clit. Your mouth falls ajar into a shaky moan. You don’t dare break eye contact, the sight of him on his knees and savouring you whole gives you a surge of adrenaline rush that has your heart thumping in your chest like a ticking time bomb. Your hand unconsciously fisted his shell-pink hair at the crown, hips bucking involuntarily into his mouth. He moans shamelessly into your cunt, devouring you incessantly as he buried his face further into the crux of your thighs. “Oh my..god.”

His tongue must have a mind of its own, because the way it snakes past the muscles surrounding your hole and begins to flick the insides of your clenching walls has your legs quivering beyond measure. The tip of his nose is pressed on your clit. You guide his head further into your cunt, your lips forming an ‘O’ and eyebrows drawn in when he alternates between languid licks and swirls of his tongue. “Right th-there—ah!” The wet suctioning sounds ring in your ears right along with your erratic heartbeat. Your eyes zeroed in on his until he fluttered them shut to drink in the tangy taste of your vulva. A muffled groan suppressed in his throat as he began to bob his head vertically, lapping up your never-ending arousal.

You’re not exactly sure if it was because you haven’t had someone give you oral in a long time, or whether if it’s due to Sukuna’s skilful tongue that’s sending the increased blood flow to your genitals, but you suddenly experience the familiar coil in your lower abdomen when it’s barely been five minutes since he put his mouth on you. “W-Wait, Sukuna I—“ You stammer, scrambling to pull him off. But he stubbornly grips your hips tighter and nuzzles further into your sex with a low grunt in gluttony. The constant suctioning and flicking of his tongue on your beating clit caused your impending orgasm to take over all of your senses, your thighs quivering around his head as you cried out in pleasure. “Oh...oh!”

With lips parted to let out quiet pants, you watch Sukuna slowly pull away from your cunt. A string of your own slick attached between his bottom lip and your sex. Gulping, you stare at him bewilderedly as he stands up. His cheeks flushed with a rosey tinge and eyes as wide as yours. “Did you just..?” Your skin grew clammy, mouth dry. You blink at him, before averting your gaze in complete embarrassment, refusing to meet his eyes as you clamped your legs shut and pulled your dress down to cover what’s left of your modesty.

He didn’t even get the chance to stick his fingers in before you came into his mouth.

Before you could utter a word, your voice catches in your throat when he suddenly grabs your legs to pin point them around his waist. You understood his intentions when he lifts you off the kitchen island, all four limbs wrapping around him securely. Sukuna’s lip curves upwards into a mischievous smirk, “That was hot.” he confesses. “Don’t be embarrassed, pretty.”

“I’m not.” You quickly deny, the arms around his neck tighten when he begins to walk you both to where you assume to be his bedroom. Your heart rate accelerates. “I’m just—“

“Nervous?” He finishes, arching a pierced brow. Sukuna takes your silence as an indication to continue. He pats your bum, “Don’t worry, mommy. I’ll take real good care of you”

Whatever amount of regret that seeped through your bloodstream when you knocked on his door fifteen minutes ago seemed to wash away at his words. He struts into his bedroom with you in his arms, laying you down on his navy sheets before sitting up on his knees to take his shirt off.

The virgules of obsidian pigmented on his caramel skin are uncloaked for only your eyes to drink in. The twin bold strokes running vertically down his muscle-bound stomach join the dark happy trail right below his belly button. Involuntarily gulping at the barbells pierced through both of his pink nipples, you instinctively mimic his stance; sitting up on your knees to grab his chiselled face in your hands for a breathless kiss. He responds immediately, hands sneaking up your back to pull down the zipper of your dress. Too spellbound with his mouth, you don’t flinch when he pulls your dress down to reveal you clad in just your bra. With your lips pressing kisses from his mouth to his throat and chest, it was inevitable for your mouth to wrap itself around his pierced bud, eliciting a sigh of content from him when the tip of your tongue gives the accessory a single flick. His hand moves to cradle the back of your skull. You freeze in place when he suddenly grabs your wrists once you attempt to reach for his crotch.

“Let me.” You insist, hands reaching for the waistband of his grey joggers. He shakes his head, pulling you up to meet his gaze before pecking your painted lips. “I get to take care of you tonight.” His hands reach for the bra cuffing your breasts, effortlessly unhooking it to reveal your bosom. With his gaze dipped to your décolletage, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his naked chest, your legs wrap around his waist as you seat yourself on his lap. Hands going up to weave through his hair when he greedily suckles on your perked nipple. Your body grew responsive, arching your back into his face as you shamelessly grind your went cunt onto his clothed crotch, his growing bulge poking you through the material. “Sukuna,” You whine, “please..”

“Tell me what you want.” He demands, laying you down on the sheets, your head rests right above his pillow when he hovers over you dominantly. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you right now.” Sukuna breathed out, arms caging you. His knuckles flushed white as they grip the navy sheets into his fists. “I want—“ Your breath hitches when he reaches for the waistband of his joggers, pulling it down to reveal his throbbing cock. “you.” You finish, your hands clutching at his forearms desperately. “Wanna feel you everywhere. Please.”

“Want me to fuck you?” Sukuna presses. His lecherous, chestnut eyes bore into yours with raw intensity. His hand grips the base of his cock before gliding it through your wet folds torturously. The action causes a small whimper to tumble from your lips. “Want me to stretch you out with my cock you feel it for days? Is that what you want?” He grits out. In a daze, you nod fervently with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted when the crown of his dick nudges your pulsating clit.

His curses under his breath, arms reaching for your hips in a tight grip before turning you on your side, his hand suddenly coming down to smack your bum. A quiet gasp escapes your mouth as he repositions you; raising your top leg to rest your calf over his shoulder whilst straddling your bottom thigh. Both of your swollen lips part into low moans once the head of his cock pushes past the ring of muscles surrounding your hole. Your walls stretch to accommodate his veiny girth as you swallow him entirely. “Goddamn,” He groans in disbelief, hugging your leg to his chest. Your cunt cushions him with warmth and softness as he pushes in all of his inches. “Oh, feel that..”

Your eyebrows hunch together when he huffs out a heavy breath. “Jesus baby,” Your heart jumps at the endearing pet name. “When was the last time you got fucked properly?” Sukuna quirks a pierced brow, his hand leaving your leg momentarily to slick his hair back. “I don’t know..” You answer shakily, attempting to shift your position but his hands hold you in place. “Been too long to remember.” You mutter embarrassingly.

“That’s a shame..” Sukuna whispered apathetically. You gulp when he feathers kisses on your calf, his cock stills inside you. “Gonna take care of you, gonna give you what you need.” He swears before beginning to plunge into your soaping cavern. You moan with laboured breaths. Your heartbeat reverberating in your head when he withdraws his hips before slamming back into you continuously. Relentless, desperate. His thrusts send you into a frenzy, your hand frantically reaching for something to grab on when you shamelessly moan out his name with your eyes screwed shut. “Opening up so well for me. You’re gonna ruin my sheets.” You hear him hiss, the ridges along his length licks at every fingerbreadth inside your canal.

“S’full..so good I—“ You cry out before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to quell the loudness of your whines. But your attempts are proven futile when he plows into you harder, your jaw falling slack from the rigor of his thrusts. “Good girl.” Sukuna grunts. “My good girl.” His praises only enhances then tension of your libido, the wet sloshing of his dick delving in and out of your cunt ringing in your head. His ears perk up to your high pitched moans, the calloused hand around your leg repositions it to place your toe in his mouth, his pierced tongue swirls around the digit and eliciting a surprised gasp from you. Your own sweat glues you to him. The slaps of sticky skin restrains your breathing, right along with the sweet pleasure inflicted on you. “You like that?” Sukuna rasps with a lazy smirk. “You like being my good girl?”

“Y-Yes—!” You wail, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. “God, yes.” You could feel the leg over his shoulder growing flimsy. Your breasts bounce with every thrust when you look at him through your wet lashes. Tattoos glistening, pecs flexing. Rosey locks flat across his forehead from down pouring sweat. The mere sight of him pushed you over the edge and into a state of euphoric haze.

“How are you this wet?” He groans with furrowed eyebrows, arm muscles contracting due to the hold he has on you. “You love my dick that much?” He pants. You nodded weakly, your head aimlessly lolling side to side. Sukuna seemed unsatisfied with your lack of vocalness, because his eyebrows pinch in together in evident displeasure. “Tell me.” He lowly growls, slowing down his tempo to roll his hips agonisingly slow, teasing you with shallow thrusts. The vice-like grip on your leg tightens, his short fingernails digging into your skin to form small crescent shapes. “Tell me how much you love it.”

With a desperate whimper, you attempt to undulate your hips for more friction, but you concede defeat when he refuses to give you what you ached for. “L-Love it s’much, Sukuna. I love it.” You say shakily. He curses under his breath, a flare of brute evident in his strong thrusts when he resumes to his unrelenting rhythm. Firm gonads slapping against your wet slit as he fucked you into oblivion. His movements are carefully orchestrated to kiss all of your sweet spots. His cock buried deep to a hilt, pelvic bone slamming against your sore lips with every thrust.

“There it is.” Sukuna throws his head back with a breathy laugh, before meeting your half lidded eyes. “That’s my spot, isn’t it?” You can’t formulate a response. Only individual, soprano moans as your bottom lip wobbles at the familiar coil forming in your lower abdomen. Eyebrows creased, fingers shaking. Chest heaving. To your dismay, the look of erotica you give him causes him to slow down his movements again, taking a minute or so to absorb the desperation laced in your visage.

“Suku?” Your quiet voice snaps him out his reverie, and he catches the worried expression you have on when you sit up an one elbow. Your hand reaches to cup his cheek, but he grabs your wrist before you have the chance to do so. “Don’t look at me like that.” He breathes, irises turning into a deep shade of umber. “If you keep looking at me like that then so help me God..“ He swears to himself with his eyes screwed shut, refusing to meet your gaze. “Wha—“

He loses all forms of self restraints. Unexpectedly pushing you down, back flat against the mattress and hovering over you with your leg still anchored over his shoulder. Your other leg follows suit, your feet in the air and both knees now pressed against your chest from the close proximity between you and him. Hands squeezing your hips, fingers digging into the flesh; licentious behaviour defined in his strokes as he begins to plummet into your soaking cavern with voracity. “Nngh, Sukuna!” You moan piercingly. “S-Stop—Oh, fuck. Suku—!”

“Yeah,” He growls. “Just like that. Sing for me.” The man on top of you urges with short, jagged breaths. Your walls spasm and contract around him, reaching the top of your crescendo but you don’t want it to end here. You found yourself greedily aching for more of him, more so when he presses an open mouthed kiss to your lips in an attempt to silence your noises. “M-More.” You beg with a whimper, struggling to kiss him back. “Suku, please. Want it deep-deeper—!”

He’s quick to plunge into you without a second thought, the delicious curve of his cock pursuing an unreachable terminus deep into your cunt. His ministrations grew faster, the murkiness of desire dominating the room along with the sound of skin slapping and exchanged heavy pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sukuna chants under his breath. Wet, sloppy kisses painted on your neck and shoulder as he nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck. “So close, gonna make me cum so hard.” He confesses. Inevitable scratches painted his back when you wrap your arms around his broad frame to hug him closer to your sweaty form. You gasp when your abdomen tightens, clitoris growing sensitive. You urge him to meet your gaze, lifting your head from the pillow to lean your forehead against his. Noses pressed against one another. Your neck strains, but you don’t care when he begins to constantly pecks your lips. “I’m gonna..M’gonna—“

“You’re gonna cum.” He confirms for you, your breaths mingling. He brings two digits into his mouth, holding you captive in a determined stare as he coats his fingers with his own spit before reaching for the sensitive nubbin of flesh hidden between your sticky folds. He rubs your engorging clitoris with merciless circles. The muscles in your vagina contract in a rhythmical way. “Do it. Cum all over me—That’s my girl, gimme all of it. Such a good girl f’me.”

You throw your head back with a loud moan, eyes screwed shut when you convulse around him, walls pulsating as your own arousal escapes down your inner thighs. You feel the wet muscle of his tongue running up from your throat to your jawline, licking up the delectable beads of sweat that rained down your hot skin before gripping your chin to meet his mouth in a sloppy kiss that has your mixed salivas smudged around your mouths. He keeps your lips locked together as he slows down his thrusts, his nostrils flared and eyes closed as he savours the taste of your tongue. “I’m not done with you yet.” He mutters into your mouth.

Your body quivers underneath him like a maple leaf on an autumn evening. The soreness of your legs bloom when he carefully flips you both with you on top, his back flat against the mattress. His cock remains etched inside of you. Rough hands reach to massage your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. You whine with trembling lips, your own hands clasping on top of his. His wicked tongue pokes out to wet his lips, cheeks embellished with rubescent dust. “You think you can ride me?”

It was a rhetorical question, one that you cannot find it within yourself to say no to. You nod with a small gulp, not trusting your shaky voice to speak. “Yeah? Turn around for me, baby.” He instructs softly, gripping your hips and shifting you around. His cock leaves your cunt for a split second once you lift yourself on your heels to give him your back, but he’s quick to insert himself inside of you. He bends one of his knees, and you use his limb as an anchor to hold onto. You adjust yourself on his dick before beginning to circle your hips and slowly rocking back and forth.

Your mouth fall ajar into a wordless moan, eyes fluttered shut as you attempt to stabilise your breathing rate. The rhythm you’ve established with your movements causes a sense of euphoria to spread like wildfire through your veins, coaxing you into calmness compared to the rush of adrenaline from moments earlier. “Mhm, that’s it.” Sukuna encourages lowly, a small moan escaping his mouth. His hands move from your hips to grab your ass, short nails digging into your hot skin. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

His dick strokes every inch of your soaking walls. You take your time orchestrating the circles you’re drawing with your hips, before finding the courage to shift you weight evenly between both heels to begin bouncing on his cock. He hisses from behind you, his toes curl. Cocoa eyes entranced with how the fat of your ass ripples every time you drop yourself back onto his lap. Your swollen lips glistening with your own arousal. Your body is lucent with sweat. Wet squelching sounds of your own cunt pulsating around his throbbing cock dominates the room, right along with your entangled moans that are absorbed by the surrounding walls of his bedroom.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Sukuna pants, his hand unexpectedly slaps your rear before squeezing the flesh into the palm of his hand. You shamelessly mewl in response. His encouragement urges you to do more, but you struggle to maintain manoeuvrability. You opt to alternating between slow swirls with your hips to vigorous bouncing. Your ass smacks down his upper thighs into a particularly harder thrust, his cock plunges into a deeper angle and elicits a strained cry from you. Large hands move to grip your hips once more, he keeps you anchored to his lap, guiding your movements as he coordinates a rocking rhythm that sends you both into a frenzy. Your pelvic muscles contract as you squeeze around him. “Shit—goddamn. Keep goin’ baby. Ugh, fuck yes.” Sukuna sighs, head thrown back into the pillow in ecstasy.

Your hips buck, vibrating back and forth as your nails dig into his knee. Your own fingers snake to in between your thighs to stimulate your clit, and you can feel your third orgasm of the night close to washing over you body in rivulets, but a sudden gasp of surprise jolts you out of your lustful trance. Your eyes snap open when Sukuna suddenly pulls you off his cock, before dragging your ass towards his face. Your hands instinctively grab his thighs for momentum, your body laid flat on top and aligned opposite to his with his genitals facing you. With your knees planted on either side of his shoulders; his mouth latches itself onto your cunt, large hands spreading your asscheeks apart as he buries his face into your sex. Your eyes screw shut, a broken moan erupts from your trembling lips at the intrusion of his tongue as it conquered the depths of your soaking canal—hungry, consuming.

His hand smacks down your already sore ass again. “Don’t be selfish, put my cock in your mouth.” He mutters lowly, hot breath fanning against your skin before he resumes to eating you out. You whimper in response. Your shaking hand grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth once you curl your lips over your teeth and attempt to take in as much as you can. Your knees are wobbly around him, his tongue probed into your entrance as it laves up every drop of your luscious fluids. His mouth slurps onto your juices when he moves to your clit, giving you a hard suck that evokes a muffled whine around his cock from you.

His sweet torture doesn’t relent for a second. His eyes catch the way your anus clench around seemingly nothing, and he drags his tongue into a broad stroke from your clit and up to the fluttering hole, flicking it with the tip of his tongue before suctioning into a sloppy kiss. Your eyes snap open with a quelled moan, your saliva drenching his dick and the sheets below. His unexpected actions causes you to push your ass back further into his face. Sukuna groans at how responsive you grew to his touches, his grip on your bum tightens. He pulls his sinful mouth away for a millisecond to rasp out through gritted teeth, “Just like that. Ride my tongue baby, ride my fuckin’ tongue.”

The vibrations of his hoarse voice causes you to clench your thighs around him, his breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks around him—tongue flat against the underside of his dick before you began to bob your head up and down. You can feel every ridge of his erect cock in your mouth as you fondle with his firm gonads—heavy with semen that threatened to spill into your mouth if you continue your actions.

Your aroma invades his nasal canal, his swollen mouth is back to sucking and licking vigorously onto your sensitive clitoris, his thumb rubbing torturous circles on your wet anus. Your entire behind is glistened with a mixture of saliva and cum, balls of spit rolling down from your asshole and coating your swollen lips. The myriad sounds of you gargling around his manhood, right along with the slurping of your sex as he licks you up causes your perfervid bodies to tremble uncontrollably due to the inundate of pleasure. Your stomach is in turmoil, lower abdomen muscles tightening. The prurience of his tongue sends your body into fits as he drinks you up into overstimulation.

Your high pitched moans increase in intensity when you reach your vertex, your hands gripping his thigh as you gush into his mouth. Your wetness drips down his chin as you continue to grind back onto his flushed face, struggling to keep his cock in your mouth. Uncontrollable tears rain down your cheeks at your own eroticism, your muscle growing tense before you nearly fall docile on top of him. Your thighs quiver as he continues to press filthy kisses all over your dripping orchids. Your legs have fallen numb, but the lewd actions inflicted by your mouth burgeons once you quickly recompose. Your mouth continues bobbing up and down his wet shaft—slick, pornographic sounds resuming to play. The bulbous head of his cock hits the back of your throat when he suddenly jerks into your mouth with a low moan, his girthy cock nearly pushing past your uvula and earning a strangled gag from you. Your tastebuds welcome his thick precum, hands massaging his swollen gonads.

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum...” Sukuna croaks out, almost in warning. He throws his head back once more. A blue, singular vein strains against his tan neck, jaw locked into a tight clench. His firm balls tighten in your hands. His throbbing cock jerks in your mouth before spilling his load down your throat—quick jets of white semen swallowed down instantly as you shamelessly moan around him.

You pull your mouth away with pop, a large exhale escaping your smudged lips before you roll off him and onto your back against the drenched mattress. You’re still laid opposite to him, your head near his feet and vice versa. You can see his glistening chest heave with shallow breaths from your periphery. In the firmament, you both stare at the white ceiling with small pants. A hand resting over your naked chest as you attempt to control your heart rate. It was a fruitless attempt, because it continues to thump violently in your chest anyway. Your eyes suddenly widen in realisation once you registered what just happened. Once you realised what you’ve just done.

How you acted on an impulse, and fucked your reclusive neighbour.

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