#When it comes to what he was before is so interesting to think about

[stervrucht]

David Bowie plays on the radio and Steve drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his car as he contemplates. He is truly too good for this world. Now he is running errands for Dustin like some common soccer mom. The kid only had to give him one pout – one! – and Steve felt all his resistance crumbling. So, there he is on a Friday evening, seated in his still-running car in a Hawkin’s trailer park.

He stops his car in front of Eddie’s trailer and listens to the music as he gathers the willpower to leave the car.

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace, Bowie sings on the radio. 

How fitting

Outside, dusk is setting in and the world colors purple. Closing up Family Video had taken longer than he anticipated due to a difficult customer who couldn’t decide between The Thing and The Nightmare on Elm Street and had asked Steve extensive questions to make up his mind. 

Steve used to be fine with horror movies, but given recent developments (give or take his life the past few years), he isn’t into horror anymore. Out of the two, The Thing is probably the worst offender. Those crazy fleshy monsters hit a bit too close to home. Although, Freddie Krueger does have some vague Vecna vibes to him.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door of the trailer open until Eddie knocks on his window with his knuckle. With a jolt, Steve turns to roll his car window down. Once it is fully open, Eddie leans forward, his arms resting on the car.

“Sup Harrington.” Eddie’s hair falls forward and the low-cut tank top reveals his chest, framed by the silver chain of a guitar-pick necklace. 

Shaved, Steve notes.  Then, realizing he is staring, he tears his eyes away, coming face to face with Eddie Munson who gives him an amused look.

“Oh uh, right” – Steve coughs nervously – “Dustin asked me to give you this…” he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to the passenger seat where he grabs the cardboard box of some nerdy game.

“Here–” He hands the box to Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Hell yeah, Talisman. Took Henderson long enough.” Eddie pushes himself away from the car and inspects the box for a moment. When he turns back to Steve, his eyes move towards the car radio.

“I didn’t take you for a Bowie fan.”

“Oh, I’m not really … Robin must have left it in. It’s … alright, I suppose.” 

“And what type of music does Steve find more than alright?” 

Eddie flashes him a cheeky smile and Steve finds himself somewhat intimidated. Whatever his answer, someone like Eddie will probably find it lame. Steve isn’t all that passionate about music anyway and mostly listens to whatever is on the radio.

“Maybe Queen, The Bee Gees…” he lists in no particular order.

Eddie tuts. “Such a proper boy.”

Although he expects it, Steve still winces.

“I should introduce you to some real music,” Eddie says thoughtfully, then – “Wanna come in?”

Steve takes a moment to think. His parents are out, so it isn’t like he’s expected at home. He has nothing to do tonight except watch some movies (perks of the job). Although the prospect of hanging out with Eddie doesn’t thrill him, it might be the more interesting option.

“Sure,” Steve turns his car off, rolls the window back up and opens the car door. Eddie takes a step back, giving Steve some room to get out. 

Eddie’s eyes move to his chest and Steve realizes he is still wearing the stupid Family Video vest. He quickly takes it off, crumples it and unceremoniously throws it in his car before shutting the door again. With a quick turn of his key, the car is locked.

Steve follows Eddie towards the trailer. It is a warm summer’s night and the shadows of the trees grow long under the purple sky. The trailer park is surrounded by ample woods and fields from which the sound of crickets flares up.

“You coming?” Eddie waits for him at the door. Steve doesn’t realize he stopped moving and quickly makes his way to where Eddie is standing.

“After you, King Steve,” Eddie says, holding open the door with a dramatic bow.

Damn, Eddie is kind of annoying, isn’t he? No wonder Dustin gets on so well with him. Two peas in a pod. Steve lets out an unamused scoff.

Once inside, Steve stands in the middle of the…living room? Kitchen? He isn’t sure what to call such multifunctional rooms. He crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for Eddie to put the game away.

The main room is crowded and messy. It is the complete opposite of his parents’ living room, which is kept meticulously clean and organized – with the help of their cleaning lady of course. The coffee table is stained with water circles from mugs and the like. Something unthinkable to Steve. If he ever puts a glass down without a coaster, he will face his mother’s wrath.

“Beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen. He already turned his back to him to make his way to the under-table fridge.

“Sure.” 

Steve is getting sick of standing around and decides to move to the small beige sofa. It is littered with clothes and after a moment of hesitation, he shoves them aside and sits down.

“You’re fucking tense,” Eddie says as he hands Steve a can of beer. He looks down at the pile of clothes and without hesitation grabs them and throws them in a different corner of the room. Then he lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Steve, which objects with a loud creak.

The sofa really is quite small and granted, a bigger one probably wouldn’t fit. The middle of it sagged considerably too, dragging its occupants to the center.

Steve feels the warmth of Eddie’s jeans-clad legs against his own. They are probably sitting a bit too close and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The can lets out an audible hiss as Eddie opens it and takes a quick sip from his beer. Then, he puts it down on the table and jumps up again.

“Fuck, I was gonna play you some music.” He hurries past the kitchen into a separate room. 

Steve opens his own can – cheap store-brand beer – and takes a nervous gulp as he waits for Eddie to return.

He is starting to reconsider his choices this evening. Perhaps he should just have watched Back to the Future again. Instead, he is in the trailer of some guy he kinda-sorta knows because they have shared custody of some annoying kid (one of Steve’s best friends).

“Oh yes, this will be good.” Eddie re-emerges cradling a few cassettes in his arms like he is holding a baby. He squats in front of the coffee table and releases the collection of plastic cases on top of it. Steve eyes the contents, but he recognises none of it. Then he looks over at Eddie – the flesh of his knee peeks through the hole of his jeans and Steve wonders if Eddie made it himself or if it had naturally torn by use. 

Eddie shifts through the cassettes with ring-clad fingers, picking a few up and turning them around to look at the back of the plastic cases.

“Let’s start with Rainbow,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing the cassette (a hand holding a rainbow over mountains on its front). He walks over to a small side table next to the front door where an old-school cassette player stands.

With a loud click, the front of the cassette player opens and Eddie puts the cassette in and closes it again. Immediately, music starts playing.

“Fuck, hold on.”

Eddie rushes over to the kitchen, rummaging through some drawers until he finds what he is looking for.

Victoriously, he holds up a pencil to Steve and clicks his tongue. Steve takes another gulp of his beer as he watches Eddie move through the trailer with a skip in his step. He is actually excited to let Steve hear his music. Steve feels strangely flattered and he lets himself fall back on the sofa. 

The music stops and Eddie takes the cassette out. Using the back of the pencil, he rewinds the tape. Steve looks at Eddie’s hands as he works. The rings are kinda cool. Maybe he should let Robin pick out a ring for him too. Although perhaps not with skulls and crosses like Eddie wears. Maybe something more simple, like a signet ring or something.

Steve is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the cassette player click shut again. 

“Your player doesn’t rewind?” Steve asks.

“Steve” – Eddie puts the pencil behind his ear and turns to look at him – “I live in a trailer…”

Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. 

Shit, sometimes he forgets his parents are very well off and some things are considered luxuries instead of the default. He made the same mistake with Robin too – multiple times – but it was hard to prevent. He thinks back on his car – not particularly expensive, but also not as beat-up as Jonathan’s. Does Eddie think he is some spoiled rich boy?

“Right, sorry.” Steve takes another mouthful of beer. Eddie turns around again to put the cassette in the cassette player. 

A song begins to play, the sound reminds Steve of something alien – not really like music at all. Once the drums kicks in Eddie begins to bob his head on the beat, his hands hitting an invisible drum. He dances across the room, drumming his invisible drumsticks along the wall before falling back onto the sofa, stringing his fingers as if playing a guitar.

“Shit, I should really learn this on the guitar.” He leans forward to grab his can of beer. Condensation forms on the outside and when he picks it up, a wet circle is left on the table.

Eddie kicks his feet up, white sneakers hitting the wood of the coffee table and the cassettes rattle. He takes a deep swig of his beer and audibly sighs. 

Steve leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and can between his knees. Once the music actually began, it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t understand the long intros though, and preferred it if music would just start.

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad” – Eddie scoffs – “You, my friend, have not been exposed to nearly enough good music.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought Bowie was pretty acceptable by –” he looks Eddie up and down demonstratively, “ – your kind.”

“My kind, huh?” a smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s lips. “And what would that be, exactly?” 

Well, shit. Steve drove himself straight into possible-insult town. Eddie eyes him curiously, one elbow resting on the sofa’s backrest and his hands holding his can in a way Steve could only describe as cool. 

“Well, you know…” he trails off.

“I know…?”

“Eh, metalheads, I guess?”

“Ziggy Stardust isn’t metal, you know that right?”

Steve sighs exasperatedly. “I know, ugh. I mean he’s–”

“Weird?” Eddie finishes.

Steve takes another gulp of beer, desperate to compose himself. “Yeah,” he answers lamely.

“I suppose he’s pretty weird, huh?” Eddie eyes the ceiling of the trailer while taking a lazy sip from his beer. “Did you know he used to be gay?”

Steve looks to Eddie, who is still eying the ceiling, head lying back against the sofa’s backrest. 

“Used to be?” If Steve is to believe Robin, there is no ‘used to be ’ when it comes to being gay. You either are or you aren’t. Now he thinks about it, Bowie seems somewhat queer with his tight suits and styled hair, but that is what girls dig, isn't it? He has heard countless girls swoon over men just like that.

“You never had a gay phase, Harrington?” 

Steve nearly drops his can.

“Gay….phase?”

“You know, live a little, try some shit, see what sticks –”

“I can’t say I have,” Steve mumbles, his eyes now firmly fixed on the can in his hands. He plays nervously with the lip, pulling it in tandem with the music before taking another sip.

“With a pretty face like yours, you might actually get some good ones.”

Steve chokes on his beer. Actually chokes, and he hits his chest with a fist to get himself to breathe again.

“W-what?”

“How can you know what you like when you never tried it?” Eddie sits up straight, pulling one leg to his chest as he turns to Steve. His dark eyes seem like a bottomless lake and Steve feels small under his gaze.

“H-have you?” Steve stutters and it is utterly embarrassing. Why is he so rattled by some stupid revelation? 

Wait, did Eddie just call him pretty?

Eddie smirks at him like they are sharing in a secret, and perhaps they are.

“Fuck yes, if someone tells me not to do something you can bet your ass I will do it. Besides, humans are humans, big fucking deal.” 

“So – was it a phase? In your case?” Steve asks carefully. He isn’t really sure why he asks. Maybe it is part curiosity. He never seriously considered relationships with men. Some are nice enough to look at, sure, but marriage, a house, children – that is only meant for a man and a woman right? A world in which someone just casually tries homosexuality seems…foreign. 

“Hm, I guess so … Wow, don’t look at me like that Harrington. Are you disappointed?”

“W-what, no!” Steve really doesn’t know why he is getting so flustered. He suddenly feels self-conscious under Eddie’s piercing eyes and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit.

“Fuck, you are – well, alright, maybe for you I can arrange an encore.”

Before Steve has time to respond, Eddie pushes himself upright and leans one knee on the sofa between Steve’s legs. He feels the cold metal of Eddie’s rings under his chin as he lays a sprawled hand on his throat and tilts his head. 

Steve freezes, air caught in his chest as Eddie leans over his face, his breath hot on his lips. Steve’s right hand uselessly holds on to the near-empty can – afraid to spill it – while his left hand digs into the sofa next to his thighs. Then, Eddie leans down, capturing his lips with practiced ease. Steve feels his long hair tickle his cheeks and the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow grace his chin. 

Eddie’s lips move over his, slightly chapped and rough in a way that couldn’t possibly be a girl. Without meaning to, Steve feels his own lips move against Eddie’s. 

Well, now he couldn't pretend it was just something happening to him. He had graduated to an active participant. 

Kissing Eddie Munson. Eddie freaking Munson.  

Robin was going to have a field day.

Perhaps the most surprising part is how he doesn’t hate it. He likes the feeling of stubble on his chin, the hard corners of Eddie’s jaw, the way Eddie pushes him back onto the sofa and he wills Steve’s mouth open with a sweep of a thumb and the cold metal of rings on his face. A hot tongue explores his mouth, stroking it against Steve’s in a way that makes him gasp.

Steve has never experienced anything like it. Usually with the girls he dated, he took the lead. Kisses were usually shy and timid. Eddie is completely different. He knows what he wants and he isn’t afraid to get it. Steve feels something stir in him as he presses back.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, taking it between his lips, and breaks away from him. Steve feels breathless and blinks up at Eddie. His hand reaches over to Steve’s right side, gently taking the can from his hand and setting it away on the coffee table. He turns back, eyes dark and Steve wills his mouth close as he regards him. 

Was he gay? Shit, he doesn’t really want to think about it now. Humans are humans was what Eddie had said right?

Steve reaches out, sliding his hands behind Eddie’s neck, and pulls him back. Eddie moves himself into a more comfortable position, placing a knee on either side of Steve’s thighs and straddling him. Eddie’s hands reach for Steve’s temples, threading themselves through Steve’s hair – rings catch on the strands but Steve doesn’t mind the painful sting as it pulls. He just wants to get Eddie’s lips back on his – and so he does.

Their lips meet, fiery and hot. Open-mouthed Steve explores every corner of Eddie. He lowers his hands to Eddie’s back, playing on the edge of his tanktop and the hot skin underneath. If it works for girls, surely it works for guys too right?

He runs his hands up the side of Eddie’s chest, a thumb over a nipple, and Eddie gasps into his mouth. Steve feels heat settle in his crotch and he is glad he chose to wear jeans made of thick fabric rather than thin trousers. Steve’s hands move over Eddie’s chest, feeling the smooth muscle of it and the roughness of regrowing chest hair.

Eddie’s fingers reach the hair on the back of Steve’s head and yank it back, exposing Steve’s throat. He lets out a surprised yelp when he feels Eddie’s mouth latch to the delicate bow of his neck and suck. 

Steve is learning a lot about himself in the span of less than an hour. The way Eddie tugs his hair, and has his way with him is sending a pleasant jolt straight to his cock.  And Steve can’t help but moan under the ministrations of Eddie’s mouth as he sucks and bites. 

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” Steve breathes.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie mouths against his neck. Then, he licks his way up into Steve’s mouth again.

Shit, he is kinda into this. Steve isn’t sure how he could ever go back to girls now he knows what it feels like to be touched by calloused fingers and kissed with such force. 

Eddie’s hand leaves his hair and travels down to the rim of his jeans, pulling out his shirt in the process. Steve feels the ghost of fingers running along its edge and the muscles in his stomach tense pleasantly in response.

Eddie breaks away from him, his breath ghosting over his lips as he searches Steve’s eyes. 

“You wanna take this further?” Eddie asks, his eyes flitting over Steve’s face.

Steve feels drunk, even though half a can of beer isn’t nearly enough to even get him close to being buzzed. He is also turned on. Ridiculously so. But fuck, what does taking it further even mean in this context. Steve feels like a virgin all over again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his arousal from Eddie.

Not that they are not actively engaged anymore, anxiety hits Steve like a bag of bricks.

“Uhh…” is all Steve manages to utter.

Eddie throws himself off Steve’s lap onto the empty spot next to him on the sofa. He puts his feet on the table again, hands behind his head.

“You’re right, maybe that’s enough for tonight.” 

It doesn’t escape Steve that Eddie’s jeans look a little tighter than usual.

They sit in silence for a moment, only the voice of Rainbow’s singer cutting through the tension. 

“I thought you said it was a phase,” Steve asks after he finally gets his breathing under control.

“Oh right, I should have clarified” – Eddie grins up at the ceiling – “The gay thing was a phase. I figured I was into both.”

Both? Wasn’t that something only hippies preached with their free love? Somewhere, Steve feels a wave of relief washes over him. He never seriously considered someone could like both. He has some serious soul-searching to do once he gets home.

“Huh,” is all Steve replies. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks in interest as he side-eyes Steve.

“I, uh…probably should get going.” Steve puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. Eddie doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes follow him with interest.

“If you’re ever in the mood for a sequel, you know where to find me.” 

Steve nods, because what else can you do in reply to such a comment? He is baffled at the ease with which the words escape Eddie. There is no shame or self-doubt.

As he lays his hand on the door handle, Steve looks back one final time. Eddie’s feet are bouncing in tandem with the beat of the drums and his eyes are closed. He looks so absolutely unshaken by their encounter that Steve feels almost jealous.

Steve is anything but unshaken.

“See you around,” he offers.

“See you, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is playful, even though he doesn’t move.

When Steve is safe and sound in the driver’s seat of his car, he leans his head against the steering wheel and stays there for a moment. 

What the hell just happened?

He turns his mirror to his neck and traces the hickey that Eddie left on his throat with a finger. He would have to ask Robin for some make-up to cover that up. 

She is going to love this story.

Steve sighs and pushes the mirror back into its original position. When he starts the car, Bowie continues to sing like nothing happened.

Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever, Bowie sings and Steve groans as he hits the gas.

***

It is Saturday morning when Steve walks up to the Buckley residence. He passes the garden fence and walks around the house to the backdoor.

Hawkins was struck by the beginning of a heatwave and at this point, the temperature was bearable as long as one didn't move too much. The perfect day for a visit to the pool, but too hot for videos. 

Which is why Steve is sure today won’t be too busy at Family Video. Fine by him. 

The quiet days he works with Robin are always his favorite. Sometimes Henderson comes over – either with his friends or alone – and they mess around with the cardboard cut-outs or watch a movie on the little TV screen hanging from the ceiling. Steve has zero regrets about missing out on college. Everything he loves is right here in Hawkins.

He pulls at the red handkerchief around his neck. It is against company policy to wear scarves (and probably too hot too) but Steve needs something to cover up the damage of his little adventure with Eddie. At least, until he gets his hands on some skin paint stuff – or whatever girls call that type of make-up.

He enters through the backdoor straight into the kitchen, where he finds Robin’s mother clearing the table of breakfast plates. The room smells faintly like toast.

“Morning, Ms. Buckley!” he calls, already moving towards the hallway. Steve hears her respond, but he's halfway up the stairs by then.

“Rob!”

“Just a second!” Her voice is muffled. She opens her door, fixing an earring. Her eyes flick to his scarf before meeting his gaze.

“Geez, you’re early.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve walks straight past her and throws himself on her unmade bed.  Robin pays him no mind and she walks over to her dresser again. From his spot on the bed, Steve can see Robin's face reflected in the mirror as she fusses with her hair. When she reaches for a pouch, Steve is suddenly reminded of why he is early to begin with. 

“Do you have that face-stuff?” he asks as he sees Robin pull a pencil from the pouch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than ‘face stuff’.”

“You know, the skin-colored goo.” Steve makes motions over his face as if he’s painting.

“Concealer?” Robin’s mouth is open in concentration as she lines her waterline with black.

“That’s it!” Steve throws himself off the bed and walks over to Robin.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Robin puts down her pencil and rummages through the pouch again. She pulls out a small beige bottle and holds it up for Steve. He reaches for it, but Robin pulls away.

“Does this have anything to do with your avant-garde fashion statement today?” She looks at his scarf again.

Steve laughs sheepishly and pulls his scarf aside. Robin’s eyes widen at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Jesus, Steve! It’s massive” – she leans in closer – “Was it Rebecca? Never thought she’d be the type...” Robin reaches for his neck but Steve pulls away.

“What? No!” – Steve lets go of the scarf – “I stopped seeing her like five weeks ago. Get with the times, Rob.”

“Well, sorry I can’t keep up with your busy love life.” Robin turns back to the mirror. She definitely isn’t sorry and Steve wouldn’t exactly call the origin of the hickey ‘love’. A lapse of judgment, maybe, or something uniquely in the corner of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. 

“Can I get the stuff now?”

“Fine,” she says and she pushes the bottle in his hands.

***

Outside the car, the world passes in a flash of yellow fields. The windows are down and the scent of drying grass fills the air. Steve turns the music up to drown out the thundering sound of the wind as it enters the car and drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he uselessly mouths along with the music. He doesn’t know the lyrics, but that can’t stop him. The fact it annoys Robin when he does so makes it even more fun in his opinion.

“You’re in a good mood,” Robin remarks while she digs through her bag.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m working with my best friend,” Steve chirps.

“Uhuh, right,” she replies skeptically. She puts her bag back between her legs on the car floor and fiddles with something in her hands.

Steve’s eyes are focused on the road before him when the music suddenly stops.

“Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I thought you said Bowie was ‘overrated trash’” Robin says while opening the case to another cassette. 

“I didn’t,”

“You so did, and you called his pants too tight,”

“Whatever, driver decides,” 

Robin sighs and pushes the cassette back in. “When I get my license, it will be Blondie all day every day. You better prepare yourself, dingus!”

Steve hums in satisfaction as the music comes back on. Maybe he found it somewhat grating in the beginning, but it was growing on him now. That, of course, had nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

“Did you know he used to be gay?” Steve suddenly says.

“Bisexual, Steve, and of course I know that. The question is, why do you?” From his periphery, he can see Robin staring at him.

“I just heard it somewhere,”

“Somewhere…” Robin repeated. She leans over to put the other cassette back in her bag. 

Steve is relieved when he sees Family Video come into view. It’s not like Robin will forget their conversation, she is far too smart for that. And he really does plan on telling her about what happened yesterday, he just has to find the right moment. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even be today. 

Steve pulls into the parking space and hops out of the car. He locks his door and throws the keys over the car to Robin. She fumbles in her attempt to catch it and Steve is once again reminded that Robin is a band dweeb and not an athlete.

“Let’s open this baby up,” he says as he tosses the store keys into the air and catches them overhand.

“You’re such a show-off” – she walks past Steve into the store and continues without looking back – “For your information, there are no girls around…”

“Yet,” Steve finishes and Robin groans in response.

There wouldn’t be any girls around for most of the day as it turned out. 

As Steve expected, it was a slow day. The only people who visited were those who probably wouldn’t be found dead sunbathing, nerds who never stepped outside (except to rent a video, apparently), and old people looking for something nice to watch with their grandkids. 

Somewhere between the shelves, Robin is putting returned VHS tapes into their rightful place. Meanwhile, Steve sorts through new arrivals and adds them to the computer system. In the back of the shop,  a guy has been staring at some science fiction movies for probably half an hour by now. Category basement nerd, Steve decides.

They had been working in relative solitude. Steve looks up as he hears the bell signal someone’s entrance. He is greeted with a curly head of hair.

“Henderson!” Steve stands up and throws himself over the counter. The secret handshake is a must and cannot be skipped. 

Shake, box, Star Wars sword thing, guts.

Dustin smiles wildly at him. 

Just as Steve is spilling his guts, the bell chimes again. He looks up, readying himself to apologize to the poor customer he has no doubt scared off with his wild gestures when he comes face to face with dark bottomless eyes.

“Munson,” Steve is probably gawking, at least a little and Eddie looks amused at the scene in front of him.

Dustin, oblivious to it all, immediately starts talking. 

“I was just about to grab my bike when I ran into Eddie. He offered me a ride in his van. Mom’s at the pool today, says it’s too hot to stay indoors; she practically kicked me out of the house,”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t even looking at Dustin as he yapped on. He somehow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. It was strange seeing him in daylight now. The darkness of dusk had made their whole interaction the night prior seem like a dream. Now, face to face with Eddie, Steve was hit by the reality of what had transpired. He felt profoundly awkward.

“ – You should totally get a van, Steve!” Dustin’s voice pulls Steve from his thoughts and he tears his eyes away.

“Y-yeah, probably not. I like my car,” he composed himself, deciding to focus his attention on Dustin rather than Eddie.

“Hey Dustin”  – Robin walks from behind the shelves, carrying a now-empty crate. Her eyes land on Eddie with a hint of surprise – “Hey Eddie,”

“Got anything good yet?” Dustin asks Robin eagerly.

“You’re in luck–” Robin says as she puts the crate away, “We just added The Dark Crystal to our collection,”

“Sweet!” He hears Dustin call when Robin leads him away to one of the shelves in the back.

Steve is left alone with Eddie and doesn’t know how to compose himself. A part of him feels nervous under Eddie’s dark gaze. 

Eddie walks over to the counter and leans against it.

“Cool gig,” Eddie says as he looks around the store. “Do you ever get to keep the cardboard cut-outs?” Eddie points his finger at a life-size cut-out of Indiana Jones that stands proudly at the front of the store. Steve’s eyes involuntary drift back to his fingers again and he really ought to stop that. Sooner or later, Eddie will catch him staring.

“I don’t, but Keith does sometimes,” 

“Sweet,”

A silence falls between them and Eddie kicks his feet. The guy in the back still hasn’t made up his mind and a little distance away Dustin is eagerly explaining something about the ‘Gelflings’ to Robin.

“Hey, uh, are you doing anything next Friday?” Eddie asks suddenly. 

“Nothing yet,” Steve is desperately trying to stop his heart from beating at such an insistent pace and he hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he intends it to.

“You wanna…I don’t know…hang out or something?”

‘ Or something’. What does ‘or something’ mean ?

“Yeah, I– …yeah, sure” Steve fumbles a bit, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. A smile grows on his face.

“Cool,” Eddie says.

He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to a shelf to inspect some of the movies. He leans forward, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and hums a song that sounds vaguely familiar. Steve stares at the interlaced fingers behind his back – adorned with silver rings – and shivers at the memory of their coolness against his neck.

“Cool,” Steve echoes.

***

The whole week, Steve had thought of countless excuses to cancel hanging out with Eddie on Friday, but in the end, none of them carried any weight. He couldn’t get Eddie of his freaking mind and the sappy romance movies that played on the television screen at work didn’t help either.

Eddie had visited Family Video again – once – with Dustin to return a movie. Apparently, they regularly hung out when Steve was busy at work and he felt something akin to jealousy. He had always been Dustin’s role model. Heck, the kid even started wearing his hair like him (thank you, Farrah Fawcett). That was until Eddie somehow inserted himself into the equation. Now, Dustin had grown out his hair and was wearing that ridiculous Hellfire shirt religiously; so often, Steve sometimes wondered if it was ever washed at all. 

Eddie had corrupted him, and maybe he had corrupted Steve a little bit as well.

“You seem nervous,” Robin remarks as she flips through a folder, biting in the back of a ballpen. 

“Well, I’m no–” Before Steve can finish his sentence, Robin continues.

“I haven’t heard you talk about your dates the whole week. Whoever gave you that ridiculous hickey has some serious hold over you –”

Steve feels his shoulders tense. The idea of Eddie having any kind of hold over him was crazy. Steve is cool, Steve is casual. Steve is definitely not nervous about his casual hangout with Eddie tonight.

“ –It’s Friday, aren’t you supposed to be on like three different dates tonight?” she continues.

“Uhm, well–”

“And you’ve been acting weird all week. Things are adding up to a very weird sum. The ‘buying thirty watermelons’ kind of weird sum.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve rolls his eyes as he finally regains his composure.

“Steve!” Robin throws her pen at his head. He ducks, but the pen hits him anyway.

“Robin!” he mimics her tone.

“It’s someone’s mom, isn’t it? God, Steve–” Robin pulls a face in disgust.

“It’s not someone’s mom! Geez, Rob, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind that acts all mysterious and weird, and suddenly listens to music he hates!”

Maybe going out of his way to buy a Rainbow cassette had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course, Robin would pick up on that.

“A guy can expand his tastes…” he trails, hit by the ambiguity of his statement.

Robin sighs, picks up her pen from the floor and gives him an irritated glance. 

Steve hears the bell chime just as he closes the door to the vault in which they store cash overnight. It is only a couple of minutes before closing time and Steve grunts audibly as he raises himself into a standing position. Entering a shop this close to closing time is a certified dick move and Steve is not above sending whoever entered away, customer service be damned. 

“We’re closed!” he yells as he walks back into the shop from the backroom. 

“Eddie’s here for you,” Robin calls without looking back at Steve. 

Sure enough, Eddie is standing at the counter. He is wearing a tank top and his hair is pulled up into a messy bun; his skin gleams with sweat from the heat outside and around his neck hangs a wiry set of headphones. Wind from the air conditioner pulls at his hair. When their eyes meet, a smile creeps on his face.

“Sup, Harrington…I’ve brought the van.” He holds the keys up demonstratively, dangling them from his index finger.

"He brought the van!" Robin exclaims looking back at Steve, her eyebrows raised and a sly smile playing on her lips. Steve can almost see the moment of realization dawn upon her as if a lightbulb had been switched on in her mind.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “I promised Robin a ride back–” 

“No problem, We’ll drop her off. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car later.” 

Steve casts Robin a quick glance and she shrugs in response.

“If Robin’s fine with it…” he trails.

“A van,” Robin whispers as Steve joins her at the counter and elbows him in his arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but still can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

***

Twigs crack under Steve’s shoes as he follows Eddie through the forest. The canopy of the trees offers ample shadow and Steve finds the heat more bearable here than when they had been walking alongside the road. Still, his shirt clings to his back and sweat is slicking his hair as Steve runs a hand through it. 

When Eddie asked him to hang out, he didn’t expect they would be hiking through the forest behind the trailer park during a freaking heatwave. 

He looks over to Eddie. His bangs cling to his forehead and the veins on his arms are thick as his body fights to keep cool. Despite the oppressive heat, there's a glint of excitement in Eddie's eyes.

“There it is.” Eddie stops and looks somewhere in the distance. Steve squints and follows Eddie’s gaze. Between the trees, he can see the shimmer of water, and he realizes Eddie has taken them to Lover’s lake. 

When they near the water, Eddie ups his pace, stepping around some of the bigger rocks and boulders near the lake’s edge like he has done it a thousand times before. Steve tries to keep up, but his unfamiliarity with the landscape slows him down.

At last, he is standing on the pebbled lakeside. The sun is already lowering itself into the embrace of dusk and Steve thinks they have maybe two hours of light left before sundown. He looks to his right where he sees Eddie standing above a pile of wood. When he gets closer, Steve realizes it is actually an old stranded fisher’s boat.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie remarks.

Steve looks the boat over. It’s medium sized and some of its wood has rotted away. A good portion of it is covered in graffiti, and half of it sits in the water. It has probably been there for years.

“You bring all your conquests here?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie climb onto the boat. The question is mostly meant to be lighthearted, yet he feels a sense of anticipation as he waits for Eddie to reach the deck. 

Eddie squats and looks down on him. “Nah, just you.” 

Somehow, those words make Steve’s heart flutter and his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away, pretending to search for footing to scale the boat.

When Steve reaches the deck, Eddie is sitting cross-legged facing the lake. 

“This is a nice place,” Steve says, sitting next to Eddie. He lets his feet dangle from the side and follows Eddie’s gaze. Across the lake, some people linger, cooling down before heading back to their hot homes. Some children are playing in the shallows and their joyful screams carry over the water.

“Your work?” Steve asks as he gestures to some of the writing on the boat. The wood is covered in crude phrases, names, and dates – some of them are carved, but most look to be written with a sharpie.

“Some of it is.” Eddie pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to Steve. “You can add to it if you want.”

Steve turns the knife in his hand. It is a classic red Swiss knife and it lays heavy in his hand. 

“Here–” Eddie twists around and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s fingers are tracing the wood behind them, running them over the carvings in the wood. “– I think I did this about a year ago.”

Eddie removes his hands and Steve can finally get a good look. It’s nothing crazy, just a simple ‘Eddie was here’ carved in crude scratches – eternalised in some rotting wood in a town no one cares about.

Eddie holds up his hand to Steve and he realizes he is asking for his knife back. Steve hands it over.

Eddie flips out the knife and bends himself over the carving. Steve turns back around, looking over the lake again as the sound of scratching fills his ears.

“All done!” Eddie says after a while.

When Steve turns back, he sees his name freshly carved into the wood, right above Eddie’s original carving.

Steve + Eddie was here

“You wanted to immortalize this?” Steve asks amused.

Eddie flips the knife closed again and shoves it into his pocket. “A year ago, I’d never thought I’d be sitting here with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Guess that’s pretty fucking special.” Eddie casts him a toothy grin. 

Steve had to agree though. If someone had told him a year ago he would be hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson on a Friday evening – rather than spend his night on a date or at a party – he would have declared them crazy.

“I suppose so,” Steve replies.

All is quiet for a moment, save the sound of leaves rustling by a welcome breeze. Steve closes his eyes as the wind kisses his sweaty skin.

“I got you something,” Eddie says, breaking the silence and he stands up. Steve’s gaze follows him and his eyes widen when he sees Eddie move his hands over his head to pull his tank top off. 

“But let's take a dip first…it’s hot as balls.” He throws the sweaty tank top at Steve, who slaps it out of the air before it can hit him. The fabric lands heavily on the wooden deck.

“I didn’t bring my trunks,” 

“You don’t need those here.” Eddie gives him a knowing smile as he kicks on his shoes.

Eddie is lean and he has a nice back, Steve thinks. Not particularly broad like some of his former teammates on the swimming team, but not bad for a guy who spends his time playing board games. His torso is littered with fading scars from the Upside Down and Steve has a fair amount of those himself.

“Get on with it, Harrington!” Eddie is already stripped to his underwear when Steve tears his eyes away and finally tugs his own shirt over his head.

A dip in the lake was a fantastic idea and Steve felt himself relax now that he was slowly but surely cooling down to more humane temperatures.

Steve tries to keep his eyes away from Eddie as they make their way back to the boat. The fabric of his boxers is clinging to his skin.

Eddie lays himself down on the deck, using his jeans as a pillow while he fiddles with his headphones. 

“C’mere Steve.” Eddie pats the space next to him and Steve reluctantly seats himself. Eddie is working the buttons of a walkman.

“Remember when I said I got you something?”

“That was like twenty minutes ago,” Steve feels borderline offended at the implication.

Eddie gestures for Steve to lay down as well and Steve complies begrudgingly, resting his head next to Eddie’s on his crumpled jeans while he stares up at the blue sky. He feels exposed in just his boxers and now Eddie wants them to lay side by side.

“Here.” Eddie hands him one half of the headphones while holding the other side to his own ears. Suddenly it dawns on Steve why they’re lying as they are. Eddie wants to let him listen to music. Steve moves half of the headphones to his ear and sure enough music starts playing.

“I put some things together I thought you might like.” Steve can see Eddie turn his head towards him from his periphery and study his face.

“You made me a mixtape?” Steve asks. The idea of Eddie putting together a mixtape for him was…well, really thoughtful.

“Now you say it out loud it sounds kinda lame,” Eddie laughs.

“No, it– it’s really nice.” Steve offers. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar tunes. Eddie did quite a good job at picking music that he might like. It is definitely less intense than Rainbow – the voices are less shrill, the guitar less cutting, and the drums beat at a lower frequency. It’s nice, ridiculously nice, and Steve can’t think of an instance when someone has ever taken the time to put something together for him like this – not even his ex-girlfriends.

They lay there for a while, each holding one end of the headphone. The people on the other side of the lake must have left by now because the only things Steve can hear are birdsong, the sound of rustling leaves, and the music that comes from the walkman. The breeze feels cool against his damp body, and he wonders why he had never done this before – stay at the lake until the sun went down.

Steve can almost feel himself drift asleep when Eddie nudges him.

“Steve.” Eddie shakes him gently by his shoulder.

“Hm, lemme be…” he whines without opening his eyes.

“You’re gonna be mosquito food.” Beside him, he hears Eddie getting up and when Steve finally opens his eyes, Eddie is already wearing his tank top. 

Steve hadn’t realized how long they had laid there. Only a small line of sun was visible in the distance and Eddie’s figure was dark against the pastel sky.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need my pants,” Eddie says as he points at Steve’s head.

“Oh right.” Steve finally sits up, handing Eddie the makeshift pillow of his jeans.

Once they’re both dressed, Eddie leads them back through the forest. The sky is pink and the trees form black outlines against it. Steve walks after Eddie, who points out when to be mindful of a hidden boulder or a sudden dip in the forest floor. 

They take Eddie’s van back to Family Video so Steve can get his car. The whole car ride, Steve can’t help the feeling of nervousness that sits in his stomach. 

Today kinda felt like a date. 

Normally he would be on the other end of it – driving a girl home after a movie or something. And then, once he stops the car in front of her house, the girl would fidget and Steve would place his arm on the back of her car seat, confident and reassuring. He would tell her he had a good time and if she did as well, he would seal the deal with a kiss.

But this was Eddie, and they had been just two guys hanging out. 

Two guys that had made out a week ago. 

But that didn’t mean anything. It had just been Steve’s one-day gay phase and he got it out of his system now, hadn’t he? Eddie had only offered out of a misunderstanding, or maybe some weird kindness.

Shit, this train of thought was not helping Steve whatsoever. If anything, it had just made the nervous flutter in his stomach worse.

Eddie stops the van and the red neon light of Family Video plays with the curves of his face.

“There we are.” Eddie pushes himself back into his seat with his arms stretched on the steering wheel. Steve makes no movement to get out. They sit in silence for a while.

“About last week–” Steve starts. If he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he feels like he might go crazy. Besides, he doesn’t know when or if they’ll have another moment alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. We can forget about it if you want…” Eddie says without looking at him. His shoulders are tense and his grip on the steering wheels seems to harden.

“No…it’s not–” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Don’t worry Steve, I get it. I know what people say about me –”

“But–”

“ –and it doesn’t have to mean anything. People make out all the time–”

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. He’s kind of sick of Eddie not letting him finish his sentences and is ready to return the favor.

He leans over, turning Eddie’s head towards him and kisses him. Hard.

Eddie’s mouth is parted, mid-sentence, and Steve feels teeth beneath his lips. By all accounts, it’s a shoddy kiss – not his best work – but it seems to do the trick.

Eddie loses his grip on the steering wheel, hands moving to Steve’s shoulders instead as he eagerly returns the sentiment.

“Fuck, Harrington, aren’t you full of surprises,” Eddie breaths against his lips.

Steve leans back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

“You talk too much,” he says as he opens the door of the van.

By the time he hears Eddie get out of his van, Steve is already opening the door to his  BMW.

“Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls as he jogs over. When he’s standing in front of Steve, he pulls at Steve’s arm, running his hand down and urging Steve’s palm up. He shoves something square in his hand and closes Steve’s fingers around it.

“Next Friday, same time?” Eddie asks him, searching his eyes.

Steve nods silently. He stares after Eddie as he walks back to his van. He opens the door and turns one last time, giving Steve a two-fingered salute before getting in. 

Steve hears the sound of the motor swinging on and looks at his hand. In the dim neon light, he stares down at a small cassette. Steve can hardly read the black letters in the red light, but he realizes Eddie has written something on its white label.

From Freak, to Hair. 

[AO3]

[after-witch]

The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you. 

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters. 

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess. 

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.” 

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal. 

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?” 

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room. 

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips. 

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse. 

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel. 

“Then show me.” 

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke. 

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts. 

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?” 

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.” 

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

--

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair. 

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning. 

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say. 

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.” 

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains. 

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles. 

“Don’t.” 

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again. 

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.” 

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.” 

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward. 

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up. 

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches  in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable. 

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!” 

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end. 

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them. 

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you. 

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

[alice-angel12x]

What if the twisted wonderland react the MC/Reader have a magical paintbrush just like epic mickey games?

Also this is yuu's paintbrush looks like btw

Yuu! Epic Mickey Twisted Wonderland

Here's a fun art peice I did cause the image was so fun.

Overblot boys (Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil) React to Epic Mickey!Yuu

I remember when I first created Forgotten Wasteland, and how my apprentice made a mess of it all. While I am glad he repaired all the damage he has done, I couldn't trust him to not let his mischievous curiosity get the better of him. So I took up my magical brush and created a helper or a protector. They would keep watch and protect the toons of wasteland. They were an excellent student, they quickly mastered the magic of the brush. If only my other student was this obedient. (Geez Yen Sid, biased much).

Master Yen Sid watched Yuu gently and with a calculated stroke of the bush on the wasteland. The old wise wizard nodded with approval.

"You have done well," Yen Sid said as he gave a pat on Yuu's head.

Yuu smiled softly when they noticed their master holding his hand out, asking for his paintbrush back. They handed the wizards the brush, and suddenly began to dip it into the paint. Where he began to wave the brush in the air, creating something. Something big.

With a final stroke, there before him was a beautiful paintbrush. It was almost Yuu's height, as the wizard handed them the gift.

"Be very careful with this magic. With great strength, comes even greater responsibility. This is not something to play with willy-nilly," Yen Sid said sternly.

"Yes, Master Yen Sid. I promise to use this power for good," Yuu said, trying to contain their excitement.

"I know you will. I can see great things from you," Yen Sid said with a small smile. "Take good care of Wasteland."

If only Yen Sid knew, that his favorite pupil would vanish from under his nose. They would somehow end up in a place called Twisted Wonderland.

------------------------------------------

💗Riddle RoseHeart 💗

Before the blot:

When he first meets Yuu, he doesn't really take them seriously. Since the mirror says they are not a magic user.

He thinks the large paintbrush Yuu carries around is really inconvenient. And Does not look forward to all the potential mess it could bring.

After/during Blot:

Overblot Riddle struggled in the battle with Yuu. The most annoying thing they did was paint his rose bushes Blue, turning them against him.

Turns out Yuu and their magic paintbrush weren't as useless as Riddle assumed.

Yuu's finishing blow was a good whack to the head, dousing Riddle and the ink phantom with a powerful stream of thinner, erasing the blotted ink instantly.

Leaving an unblotted Riddle behind. Though Yuu gave Riddle one last splash of thinner for safe measure.

Leaving a crying drenched mess.

After fixing that, they left all of Heartslybuyal in awe as they watched the thinner in the brush turn to blue paint. And with many strokes of the brush, the unbirthday party was restored.

After that Riddle had a lot more respect for Yuu, and was a lot more curious of what else Yuu could do with their brush.

____________________________________

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Before Blot:

He could have cared less about this person. He thought they looked ridiculous with their giant brush. On top of that, they were magicless.

However, he did note that this new student smelt strange. Yet he paid them no mind.

After/during Blot:

Leona had a bit of an easier time against Yuu, cause of the howling sandstorm. Making it difficult for Yuu to toss the Thinner on the phantom and the inkblot.

So with the help of the first-year squad, moved upwind and with this. Yuu blasted Leona with a wave of magic Thinner.

The phantom quickly resolved, and Leona could only stare in shock as the Thinner swept him away.

Of course, they made sure to drench Leona in thinner to be sure all the inkblot was gone.

After the whole event, he was strangely enough. interested in going against the Ramshackle team. Even if it wasn't an official match.

He would smirk in interest as Yuu used their magic brush to create a flying broom for themselves. And some Toon as extra players for the team.

____________________________________

Azul Ashengrotto

Before Blot:

He was amused at most, like why would any person carry such a cumbersome thing around.

And they were magicless on top of that. What an odd individual. But for the most part, also didn't pay much attention.

Till the idea of obtaining the Ramshackle dorm. At first the ain't brush was interesting, but he simply assumed that it was some weird decoration.

Yet he did notice Yuu's strange hesitance of water. Specifically the idea of being in water. Azul would happily take advantage of Yuu's fears.

After/during Blot:

This was a frustrating battle for both fighters. Since Azul can keep spewing ink, just as much as Yuu can remove it.

But with the help of allies and friends, Yuu was able to wash away all the ink with their brush and thinner. With a good whack, to bring Azul back to his senses.

Even after the battle, Yuu seemed to refuse to go near the water. A phobia maybe, Azul thought to himself.

Azul is indeed interested in Yuu's power but finds them confusing too. Yuu wants to see the world under the waves, yet refuses to go anywhere near the water.

He tries to ask Jade and Floyd what they know about this student. But not even they could dig anything up about them.

____________________________________

Jamil Viper

Before Blot:

He honestly could care less about them in the start.

He sees them as a perfect pawn to overthrow Kalim. Jamil also notices Yuu's strange fear of water, even if it is in rain form.

But whatever it took to knock Kalim down, he did not care much. Though he did learn some interesting things about them. After using Snake whisper on them.

After/during Blot:

Yuu surprised attacked him, doused him in Thinner, and quickly took him down. Much to Jamil's emmerassement.

Last time he underestimates a person with a giant brush.

During the party in the desert, he saw Yuu sitting in the shade of the trees away from the oasis.

So he sat next to them. "So... Is it true you're made out of paint?"

Part 2, or a focus on one character at a time to have a mini story. (cause I have basically a fan fic Idea in my empty brain)

[bkglovergirl]

· ͟͟͞͞➳❥First kisses

Characters: Denki Kaminari and Katsuki Bakugou

If people are interested, I’ll write more.

Word Count; 777

ೃ⁀➷

➷Denki Kaminari

You are sprawled out on his bed, your head down near his as he sits on the floor, his legs out and his head resting on his bed. You both went through trying to pick out something to watch for about half an hour before you settled on some random romcom. The popcorn bowl next to Denki’s leg was empty when you both finally settled and got comfy. Not even a couple minutes into the movie, you had already closed your eyes; Denki’s bed was very comfortable and made you understand why he sometimes showed up late.

“Y/N.”

“Don’t talk during the movie.”

“You aren’t even watching the movie.” You open your eyes to see him facing you, and his face is too close for your liking.

“My point still stands.” You close your eyes again.

“Have you ever had your first kiss?” And your eyes are back open again. 

“What are you talking about? Have you?” Denki blushes and points to the TV.

“Well, they kissed, so it made me bring it up! What is it a weird question?!”

“Yes!” Denki rolls his eyes, and you speak again, “No, I haven't had my first kiss.”

“Well… I haven't either.” Denki looks at you and stares. “What?!”

“What do you mean what?!”

“I’m just...” he glances at the TV and then back at you, moving his leg and accidentally hitting the popcorn bowl. “Surprised?” you turn, lying on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“Why? It’s not that surprising.” Seeing the look on your face, Denki moves and gets on his knees, and You glance at him. “What are you doing?” He gets closer to your face.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes or no to what?!” The TV illuminates his face, and you can see the slight blush on his face.

“This could ruin our friendship, so yes or no?” getting the clear hint, you nod your head yes, and Denki leans down, a little too slow for your liking, and kisses you. Seconds goes by way too fast, and he moves away from you. He leans back on his knees, and you sit up and look at him, your heart beating so fast you think it will jump out of your chest. You go to say Denki’s name, but he beats you to it. “Wanna do it again?” he says with a smile. You nod, and he quickly jumps onto his bed.

➷Katsuki Bakugou

After your fight in class, you and Bakugou are assigned cleaning duty. It has been an hour of silence, with him glaring and you smirking, “I’m done sweeping.”

“Don’t start talking now.”

“Shut up and come with me to the storage closet.”

“Why are you scared?” You smack him with the rag you were also holding and he grumbles following after. Bakugou unlocks the closet and opens the door for you. 

“Aw, you do have a heart.” He mumbles some swears your way and follows you, letting the door shut. “Wait, hold the-.” the door slams shut, and the closet is pitch black. “You mother fucker, I don’t know where the light switch is; open the door again!” you hear movement and a door knob shake.

“I can’t.

“What?!”

“I FUCKING CAN’T!” he groans. You drop the stuff you were holding carefully and move around; you bump into something. “Are you really that scared?” You blush, realizing you were pressed against Bakugou. You go to move back, and you feel him grab you.

“Oh fuck off.” he brings his hands down to your hands and brings them up to his face, and kisses the palm of your hands. “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not.” he brings your hands back down. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this.”

“A moment in the closet?”

“You know what I mean!” You laugh, and Bakugou rolls his eyes even if you can’t see, “Bring my hands to your face... Please.” You blush, doing as he says. “I would like to be able to see you while I do this but let me kiss you.” 

“Do it.” He leans down, trying not to bruise his ego and miss your lips. He kisses you softly, but once getting comfortable, he wraps his arms around you. You don’t know how long you guys were kissing before the door opened.

“Guys, did you get stuck… oh!” You two quickly separate and see a smirking Mina.

“Don’t you dare say anything, raccoon eyes!” Mina runs off, and Bakugou grabs your hand and chases after her, with you following, laughing.

[whatswrongwithblue]

Girl Talk

Part Two of my Imagines with Angel Dust.

“So Alastor, he’s like all . . .” Angel Dust made strange gestures with his hands above his head, his thumbs pressed to his hair and fingers splayed out, and you were fairly certain he was trying to mimic antlers growing. “. . . murder-y and shit right? Even if he’s at the hotel, you can’t expect us to believe he’s stopped doing all that.”

It was late at night and you and Angel were at the bar, keeping Husk company, and nursing a couple of cocktails.

Alastor had disappeared hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but it was getting late. You weren’t letting yourself be worried just yet, he was the Radio Demon after all, and could certainly take care of himself. But you couldn’t help being a little on edge. Alastor always came home but still. He could give you an idea of where he had gone off to and what he was doing when he took off like this.

“Why, are you going to tattle to Charlie if I say he is?” you said, a little too defensively.

“Hey, I ain’t no rat,” Angel said, also defensive. “I’m just trying to figure the guy out.”

“He’s still the Radio Demon,” you respond vaguely.

“Oh well that tells me everything.” Angel rolled his eyes.

Husk chuckled, wiping a glass dry.  

“He’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The day that guy stops doing all that is the day I’ll stop drinking and gambling.”

You scowl over the rim of your cocktail.

“You make him sound like a monster when you say it like that.”

Husk raised an eyebrow at you.

“Excuse me if I ain’t your boytoy’s number one fan. ‘Sides, not like anything I said wasn’t true.”

“Hey, he’s not out their killing all willy nilly, right?” Angel offered. “I mean, I pissed him off the other day and he let me go. Val woulda done way worse. So that means he’s got a type, I’m assuming? Like a uh . . . a demographic . . . of people he kills. If you ain’t that, he’ll still be creepy and fucking weird, but you’re probably safe.”

“Probably,” you smirk.

“Whatever,” Husk said with a grumble, and threw his towel over his shoulder, turning his back on the two of you.

“So, about those tentacles-“

“No,” you snapped, cutting off Angel’s sentence before it could be finished.

“Oh come on! You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

You just rolled your eyes and sighed, taking another sip of your drink.

“Oh . . . hanging, now there’s a thought,” Angel pressed on. “So suspensory play, huh? I bet those are really fun for that. Just how talented is the guy with those things? Because I bet with some practice, you could even use them for some interesting kind of Shibari. Or is he unimaginative and just shoves them right up your-“

“Angel, seriously, did you not learn your lesson last time?”

“Oh I learned my lesson all right. I learned how hot it is. So c’mon, admit it,” he teased, leaning closer to you, “you guys are into bondage.”

You laughed, unable to hide the sly smile on your face, but said nothing.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel continued, “the guy does own souls. He’s probably gotta have that type of control in the bedroom.”

“You just go ahead and let your imagination run wild, my friend,” you said with a giggle.

“Baby, my imagination can run marathons,” Angel bragged. Then suddenly, he turned serious and looked over at you. “Wait, does he own your soul?”

Husk turned around and both men were now looking at you. Knowing both of their predicaments, you almost felt bad for your answer.

“No,” you said quietly.

“NO?!” Angel yelled, slapping his hand down on the bar counter.

‘No,” you repeated.

“But . . . but, that’s what he does. I mean, he even owns Niffty’s soul. So why are you with him-“

“Angel,” you interrupted, putting your hand on his arm. “I’m with him because I love him. Because I choose to be.” You said your words firmly, making sure your point was crystal clear. “And anyway, Alastor’s not the type to sleep with a soul he owns. It’s hard to explain his twisted moral code but he would think that was rude . . . or abusive . . . or just trashy. No offense.”

You knew about Angel’s forced and strained deal with Valentino and felt awkward, exposing the stark differences between your relationship and theirs.

“If I was making him sound like a monster, you’re making him sound like a fucking angel,” Husk said.

“Fair,” you agreed. “So, he’s complicated. But so am I.”

“So you really are into monster fucking. Got it,” Angel said, sounding deadly serious but when you looked at him, you saw the hint of a smile beginning to spread across his face.

“Wellllll,” you said, drawing out the word and giving Angel a side eye, “sometimes he has to blow off some steam. And those antlers are great for holding onto for balance.”

Angel choked on the drink he was taking a sip from.

“Now we’re talking,” Angel replied, eagerly leaning towards you again.

You held up a finger, stopping Angel from invading your space anymore. “That’s more than enough information for now.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s got the tentacles, he’s got the antlers,” Angel listed, holding up a finger for each item on his list. He held up a third finger, looking at you and tilting his head expectantly. “Say, you ever have a threesome with his shadow?”

You felt your face heating up, desperately trying to keep your composure and think of a witty response that wouldn’t give anything more away than your expression was, when thankfully you were saved by the front doors of the hotel slamming open.

Alastor walked in, his usual confident walk more of an exhausted shuffle, and he was covered head to toe in blood and the occasional clump or string of viscera.

“Holy shit buddy,” Angel exclaimed, “looks like you bit off more than you can chew.”

“I’m fine,” Alastor huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Splendid, really. Just need some cleaning up.”

“Do you need any help?” you asked, sounding more flirty than concerned.

“Down girl,” Alastor replied and tapped you on the head with his microphone as he strode past you. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He evaporated into shadow as he reached the staircase.

“If he could just do that, then why’d he have to make a show of walking through the front doors?” Angel complained, “He left bloody footprints all over the lobby!”

“That’s Al’ for you,” Husk said, “Always gotta be dramatic.”

You sat in silence, ignoring the two men’s banter and you gripped the glass of your cocktail, staring at it as if it had your entire focus.

A few moments went by where no one said anything and the lull in conversation became awkward.

“You don’t have to stay down here, you know,” Angel offered. “I can tell you want to go sexually attack him.”

You nodded. “I need to go lick every inch of that man clean,” you said and headed upstairs.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I know | Megumi x Reader Ft. Gojo

Request: Megumi and the reader no longer know how to meet on the sly without looking too suspicious, but Megumi adamantly refuses to let Gojo know about their relationship. What if the reader is a student from Kyoto and everything happens during the exchange event? And, conveniently, Megumi doesn't know that there are cameras installed throughout the forest monitored by the teachers.

Pairing: Implied!Megumi x Fem!Reader; platonic Gojo/Megumi

Content Warning: Fluff, main focus is Gojo and Megumi, Megumi is a moody teen

For @yaninnaacu

Satoru likes to tease people. For his own entertainment and to try to build friendships with them. It also didn’t hurt if, in the end, his actions made their lives a little better and brought some happiness to them. A small laugh in a harsh world like this could mean a lot, the right push could change someone’s entire outlook.

So, he likes to play the fool, try to get people to let their guard down so he could wiggle in through an unknown crack and maybe make their world a little easier to breathe in and it wouldn't be a lie to say his own as well.

This holds doubly true for one precious student in particular.

“You seem excited. Ready for the big exchange event?”

Megumi stops his stretching, rotates his neck a few times to get out the last of the cricks, before turning to face him. The training grounds are empty tonight, save for the two them, and Satoru has never seen Megumi this interested in training.

“Not particularly.”

He says that but the Megumi that Satoru knows would never be this determined. Megumi may not have realized it but Satoru has been watching him train ever since he came back to the school. He hasn’t had much time to watch over the other students since training Itadori, but he knows that they’ve been making strides. Megumi included.

“I heard about what happened with Aoi,” Satoru says, poking around in the younger boy’s wounds to see if he can find the reason for this sudden burst of passion. “I thought you’d be interested in fighting him.”

“I’m over it.”

“Really?” Satoru says with a laugh. He has no reason not to believe Megumi, but he still has the suspicion it might be a little deeper than that. “Something has to be on your mind. You’re not normally this energetic.”

He racks his mind, trying to find the last time he remembers the kid having any sort of pep to his step so to speak. He’s always been a bit…restrained except when—

“Oh.”

Gojo smiles.

“I remember now.” Satoru chuckles lowly and dares to pat the boy on the shoulder. It’s a little harder than he was aiming for and Megumi jerks forward with a scowl. “It’s because your girlfriend is coming. Her clan enrolled her into Kyoto, right?”

If there is one thing about Megumi, it’s that he doesn’t change one bit with age. That glare is still just as scary as it was when he was five.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Megumi corrects, his eyes downcast. “We’re…friends.”

“Still!?” Satoru really, really doesn’t mean to sound insensitive but he is honestly surprised. Megumi always treated you politely and with more regard than others. Granted that bar was so low that people in hell could trip on it but to Satoru it was noticeable that Megumi held some type of soft spot for you. Satoru clears his throat to try to regain his composure and hopefully stop Megumi from stabbing him with his eyes. “Ya’know events like these provide the perfect opportunity to impress someone; show them what you’re made of.”

Satoru means it. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn’t think you’d be adverse to giving Megumi a chance if Megumi would only give himself the chance first.

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Don’t be that way,” he says, extending his arms out in an effort to offer his time to his little student. “How about you train with me one more time before the event?”

“No thanks,” he disagrees immediately, and Satoru deflates over the fact that Megumi didn’t even stop to think about it before grabbing his pack and walking away.

Megumi isn’t willing to take that step yet, he guesses.

The morning of the Goodwill Event comes faster than most. The teams set off while Satoru and the other teachers find a cozy room to set up in and watch the festivities. Everything seems to be going well so far with the teams fighting and breaking off in different directions.

It isn’t long after when Satoru picks out one student from Kyoto different from the others. Satoru could tell that the other students were aiming to pick each other off one by one, and he had his ideas on why that was the case. However, the crow focused on you noticed you weaving through the forest, ignoring the other students in the vicinity, as you made your way to a very specific destination based on your speed and concise path.

That is until you’re stopped by one of the curses released into the area.

“Utahime, it looks like your little busy bee is engaged in battle with a curse.”

The other teacher doesn’t turn her direction, focusing on another screen.

“Fushiguro is on a direct path towards the fight as well.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, his blindfold widening with the strain. Sure enough, the two of you collide on both screens, and it isn’t but a matter of seconds to take out the curse together. It isn’t unusual for the two schools to fight together; after all, the rules did state that exorcising curses was the top priority. Next, would be—

“Now, what will they do.” Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Utahime as she brings a hand to her mouth and mutters behind it. “Normally, I’d have no doubts that she can beat him. However, given the terrain, she’s at a disadvantage.”

Satoru hums to himself, wondering the exact same thing. The two of you should be pretty evenly matched in this situation; but as he watches the screen, he notices that neither of you look interested in fighting.

In fact, Megumi is touching you, hand crossing over your face and moving your head around. Satoru can barely make out the sight of blood on your face with the screen this zoomed out but it doesn’t matter as Megumi wipes it off. There’s only a small moment where Megumi lets his forehead press against yours as he cups your cheeks.

Gojo raises his blindfold over one of his eyes, just to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. Surely, he is when Megumi briefly kisses you. He can barely contain his laughter. He knew it! There was no way you two weren’t dating!

“Stop talking to yourself, 'hime, and look.”

Utahime looks back up at the screen, her face scrunching. “Are they?”

“I knew it,” Gojo repeats his thoughts. This time he does laugh as he kicks up his feet and throws his hands behind his head.

“What are they saying?”

“I never took you for a voyeur.”

“Will you shut up!” she says before glaring back at the screen. Her eyes search out for Megumi, who has already headed out of this broadcast area to the other. “Where is he going?”

“Looks like he’s headed straight to Kamo. I can’t imagine him smooth-talking the information out of her but there it is. My students really do take after me. I’m so proud.”

“You’re insufferable,” Utahime replies, scoffs, then returns to watching the battles unfold.

After the events of the Goodwill Event and the chaos of that Special Grade intruding on the event, Satoru takes the time to check on all the students injured during the fight. He makes his last stop Megumi, who had spent the longest time getting the spores taken out of his stomach before being patched up by Ieiri.

With his hand on the door handle, Satoru stops outside the door to his room. He can sense two people’s energies from behind the wall, one from Megumi and the other from…oh…looks like someone came to comfort Megumi before he could get the chance.

The words from behind the door are low.

How are you feeling? Does it hurt?

Satoru laughs to himself when Megumi obviously tells you to stop mothering him and that you’re worrying too much. He doesn’t know why the little guy still has such a hard time letting someone care about him, but it comforts him to know that you’re not willing to accept it as he hears a harsh “stop being stubborn and let me see.”

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when he presses on the door too hard. The door squeaks inward causing him to tumble in a little clumsily on his tall limbs and for you two to pop up like spooked deer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he dismisses clumsily – caught red handed. “I was coming to check on my favorite student, but it looks like his girlfriend is already taking good care of him.”

It’s adorable how your eyes widen and your mouth gapes as you sputter out an incoherent excuse. “No, I was just uh—” your fluster only increases when you finally realize you’re still holding the edge of his shirt in your hand while his hand is gripped on your wrist obviously midway in stopping you. You aggressively push his shirt back to him, making him hiss as you tap his stomach. “This is a misunderstanding, sensei.”

“It’s alright,” Satoru says, raising his palms and flattening them to let you know it’s fine to calm down. “I already know. No need to pretend.”

 “How do you—”

“Funny thing about the event,” he starts, taking one long step in the room to the nearest chair. He spins the chair around, sitting in it backwards with his legs hugging the chair and his chin rested on the curve of the back. “Teachers keep a close eye on the students, accessing their battle prowess and team strategies. It just so happens that to do that we need visuals. Mei Mei’s crows…recording devices…cameras…yeah I don’t think there’s many blind spots to miss any battles or when a pair of students want some alone time together.”

Backing away from Megumi, you place your hands in your hands and bow your head towards him. “Sensei, we didn’t mean to do anything against conduct. I just…wanted to help Megumi and the vesse—Itadori.”

“I’m not lecturing you, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Satoru tells you, not that he minds having someone who gives him a little respect around him. “I want to give you my blessing.”

Megumi is the first to object, his nose stiff and scrunched as he bares his teeth at Satoru, mostly in surprise. “No one needs your blessing, and you’re not my parent.”

“Ouch. So touchy,” Satoru remarks, his smile stretching as he glances back over to you. It’s cute how he gets so worked up over something so small, well, he guesses young love isn’t so small, and he can’t help the little urge he has to tease him. “He’s so grouchy. Honestly, you’re way too good for him.”

Megumi hisses. “Get. Out.”

 “No, it’s okay,” you say with a smile, stand, and gently press your hand to Megumi’s shoulder. “I should get going. I’ll come check on you later, Megumi.”

You make a beeline to the door, pausing only to give a short bow.

“Good night, sensei.”

“Good night,” Satoru waves casually, as if he didn’t know that bow just now was to hide your flustered face as you scurry out the room. “She ran off…Cute.” Despite your actions being endearing, the same couldn’t be said for the side-eye he was receiving from the dark-haired boy. “Don’t look at me that way. How come you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Because you’d act exactly like that,” being the answer.

“Okay, okay. You’re not completely wrong,” he agrees. He willingly fell into Megumi’s irritation, riding the waves of it to hopefully end up on a small island where forgiveness was waiting.

Megumi didn’t give him that.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out already? I’m recovering.”

Satoru thinks if Megumi has the energy to keep up his attitude then that must mean he’s doing well, which is good given the nature of his wounds from earlier. Satisfied, Satoru decides to give his charge some peace.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about you lying to your teacher later.”

He doesn’t give any mind to the growl Megumi gives him or when the boy ignores his wave by adjusting his gaze to the flowers on the nightstand.

Satoru would lie to say that attitude doesn’t hurt sometimes, but that’s okay. Even if Megumi was distant about it, even if he still didn’t want to give in and accept the fact that Satoru very much cares about him, you care about him as do his other classmates.

If Megumi could remember to accept that and to allow the rest of you to hold onto him and learn to hold onto you in return, then he’d be alright.

So, Satoru stops at the door, because he just has to make sure that Megumi doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Satoru sighs when he doesn’t receive a response. “You should treat her well. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I know,” he reassures him bluntly.

“You can always ask me for anything,” he offers, without the bravado and grandeur, and he lays himself out, extends an invisible hand for Megumi to reach towards, just as he always has whether the boy wanted it or not.

And Megumi falters, if only for a brief second, he lets his eyes meet Satoru’s a bit more softly, with less caution, and his voice has lost all the bite that was there moments ago.

“…I know.”

Megumi forces his eyes back down and refuses to look at him. It reminds him of the kid who let his guard down enough to fall asleep next to him for the first time many years ago.

“Good talk then!” he remarks with a thumbs up and a laugh. Otherwise, he might not keep his composure that the warm feeling coating his being makes. “Make sure to get some sleep. We want you well rested for tomorrow’s events.”

Satoru doesn’t expect a good night as he grabs the door but he doesn’t expect Megumi to call out to him either.

"Hey."

It’s with a tinge to his ears that Megumi finally looks at him again.

“...Thanks.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: HEAT (4/4)

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Chef Female!Reader Word Count: 7k

Summary: James returns from business in another city with the intention of spending the mornig with you, more than a few surprises up his sleeve, whether you're ready for them or not.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - somnophilia, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, vibrating dildo, anal plug, brief masturbation, unprotected vaginal intercourse, double penetration, creampie. Feelings, so many feelings.

Logistical Notes: Salt, fat, acid, and now heat - this is the long-awaited final chapter of their series. Happy Mob Boss Monday!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You were vaguely aware of feeling much cooler than you should as you registered your hip being nudged so you were lying flat against the mattress. You were still clinging to slumber, not fully roused to the world of the waking, so you didn’t move when you felt the flat edge of a knife slipped between your skin and the silk of your panties, and you didn’t react to the snick of the clean cut of fabric over your right hip and then the left. You weren’t interested as someone peeled away the exquisite and expensive piece of underwear.

Though your legs were slightly open after being shifted from your side to your back, there was another gentle push against your leg to open your thighs a little more. Distantly something stirred in you as fingers gently caressed up your thigh and to your pussy laid bare to the morning sun. Those fingers began to gently play with your folds, eliciting wetness at your entrance. One finger gave a whisper of a press into your vaginal opening a few times, drawing a soft, short, breathy moan from you, and you subconsciously parted your legs further.

For all of that you were drowsy and docile.

The warm fingers left you for a moment, and then there was a cool pressure against your cunt, the sudden temperature change prompting a small sleepy, “Oh,” from you. More of the cool, firm pressure was applied, and then the sudden vibration of the cool object against your clit jolted you awake, eyes flying open and torso contracting suddenly upwards from the bed.

That dark, deep chuckle that always flooded you with heat poured into your ears, and a strong, now-familiar, calloused hand smoothed over your stomach and forced you gently but firmly back onto the mattress.

“James,” you keened.

“I’m disappointed,” he tutted, then pressed a kiss just above your knee.

“What?”

You racked your brain – not an easy feat when you were only just coming into consciousness for the day and being accosted with teasing pleasure at your core – but you couldn’t think of anything he could be disappointed in. Not with that tone, not with you, but he seemed genuinely disappointed. You detected even a tenor of anger in his tone.

“You’ve left some of my gifts entirely untouched,” he explained, pressing the vibrator insistently against your clit.

You groaned, and the heat of embarrassment surged rampantly through your body along with the pleasure. Your hands flew to your face, and you tried to close your legs, but he held them firmly open to his ministrations.

You knew immediately what he was talking about and what exactly was between your legs.

A sleek, black dildo that you’d only looked at for a few seconds before slamming the box shut again – long enough to register that it was a size you’d bet dimes to dollars was close in size to the cock of the man who sent it to you. Were you having copious amount of sex with notorious mob boss James Buchanan Barnes? Yes. Were you wearing the high-end bras and underwear he spoiled you with, a constant reminder of the intimate place he was establishing in your life? Yes. But using the sex toys he had selected and sent to you was the line you’d drawn at too intimate.

And now instead of using it solo, the man had the audacity to torture you with it himself.

And the torture was exquisite.

Six weeks of this man, and your body knew when to yield and drip for him. He had prepared your pussy, coaxed enough wetness, to take the dildo with ease even through the intrusion of its size, lacing the discomfort with pleasure. You moaned as he finished driving it in to the hilt. He played with the angle, pushing it up and back, teasing you with different points of pressure that made you pant and cant your hips.

“Feel good?” He asked in a smug tone.

“Yes,” you huffed, knowing he knew how you felt and only wanted you to admit it out loud for his own satisfaction. But if you didn’t, he’d delay your satisfaction, and audacious bastard though he might be, you craved him now, and delighted in the indulgence of him. “More, James, more.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Chef.”

And he did. Immediately.

He twisted the dildo, then pulled it halfway out before pushing it back into your slick channel. You closed your eyes, but you knew he watched your face closely for what made you feel good, adjusting his pace until your breath hitched and you clutched the sheets. Then he kept that pace and only applied a bit of additional force in the thrusts.

He drove you on and on until he finally pushed you over the edge, and you gave a sharp cry of ecstasy.

He worked the toy in your cunt just a bit more, making you twitch in response, and then he crawled up your body and you pulled him in for a few heated kisses.

“What are you doing here, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Though you had spent increasingly more time with him, this was the first time he’d been to your apartment. It was small and modest, and you were in no way ashamed (since he had also started to regularly send either a housekeeper or cleaning staff of some kind to take care of you place, you also weren’t worried about any mess), but you were surprised.

“I know it’s your day off.”

You chewed lightly on your bottom lip.

“And I know that look,” he continued with a smirk. “You’re not quite happy with me. I’ve shown up unannounced when I know you have plans and certainly have intentions for your unplanned time, but I wanted to see you this morning. Give me breakfast and then I promise to let you send me away as soon as you want.”

He kissed you again.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Mmm, missed you, too.” You wrapped your arms around him, pleased that he’d stripped down to his boxer briefs before joining you in your bed. “Breakfast would be nice.”

He grinned and then continued the kiss. You encouraged him, eagerly wrapping your arms around his neck and chest. You hitched a leg up around his hip, and then groaned when he pressed his bulge into your core as it pushed against the dildo still lodged inside of you.

He chuckled again, then reached down and drew out the black silicone in one slow pull. There was no ignoring the sound it made, the shlick as it came out of your messy cunt.

Then he drew it up to your mouth.

“Lick it,” he said.

Eyes locked with his, you stuck out your tongue and he slid it slowly over it. Then he set it aside and resumed kissing you, purposely circling his tongue around yours, sharing the taste of your arousal in your mouth. He groaned his approval and plundered your mouth for long enough that both of your chests were heaving against each other when he pulled away. James slowly pressed hot kisses over your face – softly on each of your closed eyes, your cheeks, your nose, you chin, your forehead, then back down to your lips. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed in sleepy contentment. You twined your fingers with his at your hip. He rutted his hard cock insistently against your core, watching your face. And he kept at it until you were all but begging for him.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good, I’m ready to fill you up.”

But you whimpered as his actions immediately indicated the opposite as he abruptly rolled off you and slid out of bed.

“What? What are you-“

“Breakfast.” He smirked down at you, already pulling on a pair of lounge pants. “Going to fill you up with breakfast. What did you think I meant?”

You groaned at the blatant mischief in his eyes and hurled a pillow at him. He caught it with ease, laughed, and tossed it back to your bed as he left your bedroom. “See you in the kitchen,” he called back.

“Handsome bastard,” you grumbled as you rolled out of bed and padded along after him. You grabbed the silk robe hanging off the back of your door on your way, knotting and trying it off around your waist.

The incredible smell of some kind of warm bread hit you as you stepped out of your room. You inhaled deeply and moved more quickly, drawn by the heavenly scent, but you paused on seeing him in the kitchen. You had expected to see him at most plating up something that he’d brought or had delivered.

That was not the case.

Instead, he stood behind the counter next to your stove, handling ingredients that had come from a small crate like he was on a Food Network show.

He glanced up. “Yes, I’m cooking for you. Sit and relax,” he said, gesturing at the stool on the other side of the counter.

“James Buchanan Barnes, did you actually bake something?”

You tried to sidle into the actual kitchen, but he quickly blocked you off with his broad body.

“I. Am. Cooking. For. You.” He paused between each word, his tone serious.

“Are you really barring me from my own kitchen?”

You tilted your head up and fixed him with a look half amusement, half incredulity.

He leaned in, cupped your face in both of his hands, and kissed you soundly until you melted against his chest. When he pulled back, your lips chased his.

“Let me take care of you,” his words were gentle but firm, spoken tenderly against your lips.

One last indulgent kiss, and then he turned you around by your shoulders, and you finally did as you were told and took the seat across the counter from him.

James reached for an English muffin out of a small basket on the counter, split it open easily with a knife, and then buttered it. The butter melted immediately, and you grinned.

“You made English muffins from scratch?”

“You never dreamed I could cook on top of everything else – too good to be true?” He winked and you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Try it,” he said and slid you a small plate with half the muffin on it, taking a bite out of the half he kept back.

You lifted the bread to your lips and gingerly took a bite. It was soft, warm, and beyond the smooth tang of the melted butter that bled through the crumb, the taste far surpassed any English muffin that you could buy at the store. You let out a content hum, and your shoulders relaxed, the delight from the simplicity of the rich flavors in your mouth flooding your body with serotonin.

James smiled, just a hint of his cocky confidence lacing it, and then he got to work, filling a saucepan with water and setting it on the stove to bring it up to a simmer. He pulled more supplies from his box as you watched. Butter, lemon, eggs.

Given that your life was devoted to food and cooking, this was a bold gesture - and one no one you had ever been involved with had attempted. They were either too lazy or too intimidated or too dim to realize that even though you could cook, someone taking care of you in this way was a beautiful and indulgent gift.

“When did you get back?” you asked. He’d been gone for three days, but you hadn’t expected him back in the city until tomorrow.

He looked over at the clock on the wall. “Two hours ago.”

You blinked.

“You come straight here?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in the affirmative without looking up from the frying pan as he slapped a healthy amount of butter onto its surface and set that on the stove as well.

Your heart soared, beating happily, and you folded your arms and rested them on the counter, leaning forward on your stool. The corners of your mouth unable to do anything but smile. You saw his mouth had relaxed into a soft smile as well.

While the butter melted, he separated yolks from egg whites, and beat them together in a glass bowl. When the pot of water was steaming, he took the glass bowl with the egg yolks and set it over top of the saucepan and continued to whisk them.

Now you knew what he was making.

“Eggs Benedict?” you asked.

“It’s one of your favorites.”

“How did you know?”

“I know more about you than you give me credit for.”

You didn’t want to touch that yet, but perhaps later, you thought.

“You’ve ordered it a few times when we’ve been out for brunch. It’s also one of my specialties.”

“Homemade English muffins, whipping up a hollandaise without much effort… you can actually cook,” you remarked.

He kept his focus on incorporating the butter into the yolks properly, but still responded. “You somehow continue to underestimate me in many areas, Chef.”

That assertion nudged your conscience a little, but his tone was teasing, so you kept the level of banter going. “You still have to successfully poach the eggs and make sure your hollandaise doesn’t split. But if you manage to pull it off, I might have to take you back to bed after breakfast.”

He chuckled, and your core rumbled a little.

You sat with rapt attention and watched. You didn’t scrutinize, but it crossed your mind that there were probably very few men who would have had the self-assurance to cook in front of you without worrying or getting irritated, even though you knew you weren’t judging, only interested in observing someone else at your craft.

And as you sat, you did turn over his comment in your head – that you were underestimating him.

It had been seven weeks since everything started with this mob boss. He had insinuated himself into many aspects of your life, but as you navigated whatever it was that was developing between you two, most of the time his intrusions were welcome, if somewhat hesitantly by you at first - like fully exchanging your intimates, or hiring a housekeeper for your apartment (you had yet to see them, and you had to confess it felt nice to have some work eliminated from your plate). He had been incredibly aggressive about folding himself into many aspects in your life. Some of the evolution of this relationship had been thrilling, had you giddy, or quite simply stunned over the moments of softness or seeming adoration. Through any of the challenges, James had been open to any wants and needs you expressed when you brought them to his attention. What’s more, there hadn’t been many things to address with him – the time he spent with you wasn’t merely additional hours clocked, but as you looked back you had to confess it was time he spent truly getting to know you.  

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways, but had you gotten caught up in trying to preserve yourself?

The morning after the first night you’d slept together and stayed the night at his penthouse, you had been able to dress out of the closet he had already stocked for you. While a little shocking, it had not ultimately been surprising. It had bordered on overwhelming. The novelty and spoiling had been fun and flattering. That he had been able to stock a closet so well-suited to your taste and needs had been the part that edged toward the overwhelming side, but you ignored the more serious parts of the grand gesture, classified it as yet another audacious choice, not a sign of his knowing you or the clear signal that he was ready to have you seriously embedded in his life – in his home. He hadn’t said anything or even insinuated that you should move in, he just let that closet of clothes exist for you. It was a statement, but not a demand.

Aside from the housekeeper he’d started to send around to your place, he also had enlisted some kind of laundry service to take care of more of your needs, and last week before he left for his business trip he personally slipped a black card into your wallet.

“There,” your mob boss declared, spinning the two plated masterpieces toward you. “These would certainly be approved for service, would they not, Chef?”

You were impressed. “They look stunning. Final judgement at the table.”

You started to reach for one of the plates, but James tutted at you and carried them both over to the table, seating you at the corner next to each other where place settings had already been laid out. He was thorough, including going back to the fridge to retrieve a carafe of juice.

“And did you press this by hand?” you asked as he poured a glass for each of you.

He laughed. “No, I didn’t have time to grow and harvest the fruit myself, so it felt like cheating. This is the one my home chef keeps on hand for me.”

“I do like your chef. Do you think I could steal them for my restaurant?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he took his seat next to you. “Enough. Eat.”

You took up your knife and fork and made the first, signature cut into the egg draped with its silky hollandaise sauce. The yolk oozed, slow and gorgeous. “That’s a top tier poach,” you shot the praise truthfully.

James smiled and watched as you lifted the first bite to your mouth.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes closing momentarily. “Nothing beats a beautiful benedict.”

“Success,” he crooned, finally digging into his own dish. He didn’t ask if for further accolades, didn’t ply you for more praise, again speaking to his nature – confident, perhaps too confident at times, but sure of himself.

After your second bite, you still reaffirmed your assessment. “Really, James, the sauce is the perfect consistency, and that English muffin could have carried the whole dish on its own if the rest had been just okay.”

He squeezed your thigh under the table. “Thank you.”

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments before James spoke again. “Where’s your lovely head this morning? You went somewhere while I was cooking.”

You looked at him, tilting your head while you chewed. His blue eyes, strong, piercing, warm, captivating, looked directly into yours. He really did see you in more ways than you had been giving him credit for.

Being with this man for the past seven weeks had changed something in you. Over the years you had learned to be direct and go after what you want, but not in romantic endeavors. When you were younger, you didn’t have the skills, experience, or confidence. Over the past few years, you had been clear and direct in the rare forays into talking or dates, but there had been nothing long or meaningful enough to require directness and vulnerability from you. You had been able to be direct with James, but you had skirted around being exposed to some of the moments of vulnerability.

But there was not much more skirting that you could do.

James had shown he was willing to show up.

It was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said – that I’ve been underestimating you. I think… You might be right.”

James leaned forward, reached for your hand, and brought it to his lips. He murmured your name softly against the palm of your hand and then pressed a long kiss there. You took a breath to calm your suddenly racing heart. “I know who I am. I don’t blame you having certain ideas of who that is or putting on your own armor to keep yourself safe.”

He let your hands fall to the table but kept a tight hold on your fingers.

“I ate at Devour for the first time a few months ago. The food was immaculate. I was looking to invest in new ventures and diversify my portfolio, so I started looking into buying the restaurant. It had a good track record, its reputation had been steadily growing, the location was prime, the service impeccable. The only point of debate that came back in my team’s assessment of whether to buy the establishment was our discovery the head chef was retiring.

“You were the heir apparent and confirmed successor, so we researched you, too. Clean background, solid career building; I saw that you were pretty, but that was immaterial – merely a PR bonus if we wanted to generate more buzz for the restaurant at any point. We ordered out and dined in many times the month leading up to your takeover so that we could have a solid handle on the standard we expected and could gage if there would be any significant changes night one.

“A third of the dining room that night was filled with my people. You introduced a few new dishes to the menu, bit it was conclusive all around that the quality had been maintained, and nothing had fundamentally changed. I walked in that night planning to make my purchase as long as I was satisfied, and I was.

“The last thing I wanted was to see the new head chef face to face before making the deal so I could get a sense of who you were off the page and beyond your plates.”

“I remember being summoned to a table rather inconveniently on the biggest night of my career,” you interjected.

He chuckled. “And I could see that fire in your demeanor. It confirmed my purchasing decision, but it also made me want to devour you.”

And he had. He had temporarily dismissed your staff, told you he was tripling your salary, and then roughly sexed you up according to his pleasure – giving you some of the best sex you’d had, but not because you wanted it that night, only because he had.

“New business acquisition, new girl,” you teased. But it was defensive.

He grunted and shook his head. “No. You’ve invested so much of yourself into your career and the restaurant that you assume they’d be tied together, but they’re not. To me there was the restaurant and then there was you. I only played my hand to my advantage to keep you there. If you’d walked after that night, I would’ve gone looking for you.”

You frowned at him, but he continued before you could argue.

“You weren’t easy. There are so few people in my life who don’t bow or bend to me, I wanted more of that.”

“You wanted the challenge?”

“No, more than the challenge, I wanted you for your strength. I was the mob boss you thought I was that night, but then you turned me into a man – demanded I be a version of myself who was worthy of you if I wanted more, and I did want more of you. You stopped making time for men because they kept disappearing or disappointing, didn’t you?”

You sighed.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Neither of us are content with easy. You wanted someone to romance and adore you, but you also needed someone who would challenge you, meet you stride for stride.”

“Don’t be smug,” you said.

“I told you the first night we slept together, I’m not smug about you. After things started unfolding between us, you drew me in. I wanted more than just sex. I knew I could get that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head and put a finger to your lips. “We were both eager for it – those first encounters, and especially the first night together, now let me finish.”

You huffed, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. The sex had been heated and irresistible every time.

“I think you’ve worried more than you needed to over whether I want you, or if I knew what I was getting into.”

It was like he was reading pages of your most private thoughts. His eyes were impossibly intense now, and it made your chest ache.

“This has never been about someone to warm my bed. I’m too busy, and my life was just fine before. I want you, and, yes, glorious amounts of sex with you, but it’s your passion and your spirit I crave. You’ve seen me for more than who you thought I was in the beginning.”

“You’re remarkable, I couldn’t help being drawn to you,” you confessed. You’d called him audacious so many times, but that was only one facet of James Buchanan Barnes. He was passionate, intelligent, bold, calculating, and decisive. 

“You’ve let down some of your guards around and let me in, and because you do, I let you see pieces no one else knows. We’re swimming in deeper waters with each other all the time.”

You brought your hand up to his cheek and kissed him fiercely but briefly, needing to feel his lips on yours for a moment. You wanted so much more, but you knew he wasn’t finished, so you drew back.

He drew both your hands into his, resting them on the table between you two.

“I knew that if I ever married, I wanted a partner, not another yes person. The more time I’m with you, the more my soul hungers for you to be that part of my life. I want your company, your opinions, your soft snores, your teasing, your ideas. I’m insatiable for you, in every way. The first night I knew I wanted you, but that second night I saw in you my wife.”

“Your wife?” you gasped, your jaw going slack with surprise. But you didn’t make another sound or even a movement as his words swirled every thought in your head.

He waited, eyes still locked on yours. It was more than a full minute of silence before he finally spoke again. “Eventually, yes. Does that scare you?”

“No,” you said, without hesitation.

His words had brought you back and seemingly brought your frenzied thoughts into alignment. The only potential barrier your brain identified was time. But he wasn’t asking you to marry him right now, he was only asking if you were scared of potentially being his wife.

And that didn’t scare you.

Truthfully you would have cut things off if there had been any moment you didn’t see a long way down the road with him – you’d done it plenty of times with men before. Like him, you were too busy to trifle with men just to be coupled. You’d fought not only to make something of yourself in your career, but to make something of yourself in your life so that you didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.

“It doesn’t scare me either,” he said.

Then he swept his napkin from his lap, laid it on the table, and, in no rush, pushed back his chair and stood up from the table. He tugged on your hand gently, invitingly, nodding toward the hall and back to your bedroom.

Your head and your heart were full – clear but full – so you let James take the lead.

His hands moved deftly and delicately as they untied the knot of your silk tie of your robe, then pushed it down off your shoulders, letting his fingers skim enticingly over your skin, and turned to hang it on the back of your bedroom door. Next his hand found the hem of your silk chemise and pulled it up you’re your hips, and you lifted your arms so he could sweep it clean up off your body. He set it gently on the end of your dresser before turning back to you. Then he stepped closer than he had been before, cupped your jaw in both hands, and lowered his face to capture your lips in another kiss. Slow, warmth and fire behind it, but still no rush. You slanted your mouth against his and darted your tongue out to tempt entrance, which he granted, licking into your mouth in kind.

From the very beginning, whether they were slow or frenzied, his kisses have always been so passionate they were intoxicating, and you never wanted that to end between the two of you.

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways. He had seeped into your bones and your veins and so many of your waking thoughts, like the thrumming undercurrent of your heartbeat.

James eased you back slowly until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he gently urged you back. “Get up there for me,” his voice husky and his pupils taking over his blue irises.

You scooted as smoothly as you could manage until you were most of the way up the bed, not wanting to put distance between you, but knowing it wouldn’t last long. You leaned back on your elbows, a slight shiver running down your spine as your eyes met James’ gaze, drinking in the full form of your naked body – far from the first time he’s seen it over the past few weeks, but the intensity still affected you, there was still vulnerability of newness in this relationship.

James pulled the soft t-shirt up and off his torso. Then, not looking away from you, he pushed down his lounge pants and stepped out of them. The sight of his thick, hard cock made your breath hitch, eager to feel the way he stretched and filled you up, but he remained rooted to his spot and began slowly pumping one hand up and down his length while he looked at you.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” he said.

You gasped because it was the first time either of you had vocalized the word to each other.

“I do,” he confirmed, “I love you.”

“James…”

He smiled. “Now, show me that pretty cunt, my love.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you let your legs drop open like a butterfly.

He moaned appreciatively and continued to slowly stroke his cock as he stepped forward. “Pretty and wet and mine.”

He joined you on the bed, quickly slotting his large form in the cradle of your thighs. He pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, but you guided his head up to yours.

“I love you, too,” you murmured fervently against his lips.

His eyes flared with happiness and satisfaction - a look you had grown familiar with, and one you relished in knowing you caused.

As he kissed you again, he propped himself up on one arm by your head, but his other hand landed on your puffy and dripping folds to lavish languid attention, not designed to drive you to orgasm, but only to dole out pleasure while his expert fingers played with your body. As ever, you were simultaneously eager for more but ready to relish the experience.

While James had you pinned down with the weight of his body, eventually you began to squirm and rock your hips, seeking more. Soft mewls tumbled out of you, and you scratched your nails down his broad back.

“Need,” you gasped when he broke off the kiss.

He pecked your lips to cut you off. “I know what you need.”

He pushed himself up, grabbed a pillow, placed it down next to your hip. You hummed as he and rolled you over and onto the pillow, propping your hips up for him. Spreading your knees with his, he knelt behind you. You stretched your right arm up above your head, grasping at the sheets to steady yourself for whatever he had in store for you next, and reached your left hand back, silently seeking his hand to twine with your, which he complied with, settling your entwined fingers together at your hip. Meanwhile, his free hand passed soothingly up and down the length of your right side, from knee to ribs, down and up and down again. He planted kisses from the base of your spine up to your neck, and it was so soft and intimate your eyes welled with tears, nearly overwhelmed with just how adored this unhurried worshipful moment made you feel. You blinked back the moisture in your eyes and focused on breathing.

His kisses continued up the side of your neck, and when he suddenly nipped at your ear, you laughed and swatted playfully at him.

He rolled away from you, and a whine of protest escaped your throat.

James chuckled.

“Just a moment,” he reassured you as he reached for something on the bedside table. You heard a small click you couldn’t place, then some other soft sounds of movement. When he rolled back to face you, you looked down to see what he’d retrieved.

You gasped and then looked back up to his face immediately, heat rising in your neck and cheeks.

But it wasn’t embarrassment that you felt, it was the rush of trepidatious arousal, hesitant because this was an area you’d never ventured in the sexual realm.

In his hand was the smallest from a set of platinum anal plugs set with sapphires, and it was prepared with lube.

“Oh,” the soft syllable fell from your lips.

“Trust me?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back. Then he released your hand and settled back to his kneeling position between your splayed thighs again. He caressed the swell of your ass, first one cheek, then the other. His thumbs spread your crack open, and gently nudged at the tight ring of muscle at your entrance a few times before he placed the rounded metal end of the plug at the puckering.

“Relax, let me feel you breathe,” he said. You took a deep breath in. Out. And with your next breath in, he pushed the plug softly in. You held your breath as he slowly finished slotting it inside of you. Then he was up near your cheek, nuzzling you softly. “How does that feel?”

You took a beat to think before answering. “Full.” You breathed in and out again. “Good.”

You felt him grin against your skin. “Good.”

His thumb lightly tapped against the jeweled end, and your breath hitched slightly. He waited a moment, tapped again, and again your breath hitched. He chuckled. “So responsive, love.”

You huffed and burrowed your face into the sheets.

“But still good?” he checked in.

“Yes,” you groaned. The feeling of your tight hole being full was unbelievably intense because it was so foreign, so insistent, so much. The plug provided an ever-present push, and the more moments that passed, the more your body latched onto it the rush. It laced every thought. His light taps on the plug had jolted that pleasure, giving it sharp, blissful pulses.

Another laugh at your reluctant acknowledgement. “I’ll stop teasing,” he promised. “For now,” he added.

He lined up the tip of his cock at the entrance to your weeping channel, hunched down over your back, and then slowly, deliciously, pushed his thick length inside of you. You moaned openly through every second of it, then took a deep breath when he settled in at the hilt.

James waited there, chest pressed against your back, letting you adjust to the sensation of being filled in both places at once. He peppered kisses along your shoulder.

“Mmm, ready for you to move,” you drawled through your haze.

One hand held the top of your hip, and he planted his arm at your side so he could get the right leverage to begin thrusting in and out of your cunt. He took a slow approach, but it still engulfed you immediately. His cock moving within your cunt while you were plugged, immovable fullness in one hole and a shifting fullness in the other, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The presence of the plug dialed up every other sensation you were experiencing as James started to speed up his thrusts.  

You fought to acclimate to the overwhelming fullness, as he gradually increased the pace of his thrusting, but your orgasm crashed over you earlier than either of you expected. Your body seized up and then shook as you cried out in ecstasy beneath him. He groaned as you milked his cock, then growled as he sped up even more.

His hand circled your hip to dive beneath your pelvis, in search of your clit.

You keened when his expert fingers found your swollen bud.

“Have to give me another, need you to cum with me,” he demanded, chest rumbling against your back.

His fingers dealt out exquisite torture as he circled your clit.

Your second orgasm built and crested, drawn out in longer bliss this time, and as your walls clenched this time, they triggered the release of your mob boss as well. He gave a shout, muffled into your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. You could feel the heat of it as he emptied himself fully inside you, and you relished in it, arching your back and stretching your arms out satisfyingly in the bursts of pleasure that rolled through your body in the aftershocks.

You turned your head to kiss your lover, full and satiated. He indulged and returned the kiss in kind but broke it off much too soon for your liking, also withdrawing his cock from your well-used cunt. You gave a little moan of protest, but he kissed your forehead.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he assured you.

Too blissed out and loathe to move yet, you stayed exactly where you were, listening to James’s footsteps moving away to the bathroom. The running tap signaled a quick clean up, and when he returned, he had a warm washcloth to tend to you as well. He carefully removed the plug, and murmured, “You did so good for me.”

A little something fluttered ever so slightly at his soft praise. After he wiped away the mess of your combined spend, he tossed the washcloth to your laundry hamper, removed the pillow from beneath your hips, then settled down on his side on your mattress and collected your boneless body in his arms. You sighed in contentment.

“You ready to send me away yet?” he asked.

“No, you’ve earned at least a few more minutes.”

“Good, because I have one more thing for you.”

You laughed. “I might need a little more recovery time, muscles don’t want to move.”

He reached over to your bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled something out, but your eyes were drifting closed. You thought maybe he would relent and leave you be for at least a short amount of recovery time if you fell into a light doze.

But of course, he would not.

No.

James Buchanan Barnes, endearing but audacious bastard that he was, couldn’t let you rest.

He withdrew your hand from his chest and deposited something into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it, before he kissed your knuckles.

As your fingers registered the size and shape of the object in your hands – small and square, smooth surfaces, but tied with a satin bow – you stopped breathing, and your eyes flew open.

His face held the softest smile you had ever seen on his features. His thumb brushed smooth, reassuring circles, over the inside of your wrist. “Marry me.”

Your eyes flickered between his piercing blue gaze and the Tiffany blue box in your hands, mouth agape. You had resumed breathing, but you were speechless – happiness tinged with hesitancy. Your eyes went back to him, searching his face, and you knew he was searching your again. “In the other room, you said eventually.”

“Marry me tomorrow, or marry me in five years, but I know what I want,” his tone underscoring his evident resolve. “I told you, I’ve known since very early on, and every moment only solidifies how certain I am I can’t see a future I want more than one that involves you.”

You leaned in to kiss him. He was clever, your mob boss. Strategic. But you also believed he was sincere.

You broke the kiss this time. “I won’t marry you tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait five years, either.”

“We can set the timeline later, but now I want to see my ring on your finger, Chef.”

He reached to start tugging the white bow loose, but you tsked at him and went to work, untying the satin. You opened the blue box, then let your fingers run over the smooth velvet of the smaller box within. Neither of you spoke, the moment charged with anticipation. You tilted back the top half of the ring box.

“Oh, James,” you marveled.

The ring he’d selected could not have been more perfect. The setting of the stones was stunning.

You let him withdraw the ring from its cushion and slip it onto your finger.

Already having proven his track record when it came to knowing things about you, you didn’t question how he had managed to get the perfect sizing for your engagement ring.

Hours later, after hours of kissing and numerous post-engagement orgasms, you did ask how long that ring box had been in your top drawer, but he laughed and assured you only that morning.

You were reasonably sure that was the case, but with him, there was no telling for sure.

And now you knew this mischievous man and mob boss would continue to surprise and challenge you for a lifetime.   

THIS CONCLUDES THE ARC OF THEIR SERIES! I hope it provides a satisfying ending that you were able to devour! I have already written a few pieces for them that take place after this, and I imagine there will be drabbles here and there (there were two things I cut from this chapter already because of how things ended up flowing, and one of them I do at least still see as a conversation they will have in the midst of some smut), but we have at least gotten them from the beginning of their journey to where I wanted them to land in the original four parts I sketched out over a year ago.

Let me know what you think, now that you know how their story has been told! I can't believe we made it!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Yoichi Isagi's older sibling.

"Who's that?" In the middle of their gathering as this happened to be their first week off at blue lock, Chigiri was the first to notice the presence of other from afar. "Yeah, who's that? They've been looking at us ever since we got here." This time it was Bachira whom have been long aware of the other person presence ever since they have gathered in the cafe. "And they're good looking too." Eita spoke that causes everyone to look at the person they were talking about. It was a person wearing shades and a mask, so how could Eita tell they were good looking? "Who- ah. That's my older sibling." This time it was Isagi who spoke. "Who-?! What?!"

Imagine, as far as you are aware of. Your younger brother Isagi was supposed to be on that so called project, blue lock? Was it? So now that you have seen him in the midst of the crowd in the middle of your agenda. You cannot helo but to observe him in the far distance, was that really your younger brother? Come to think of it, your mother has been urging you to attend some game just a couple of days ago as well as making you come home last time. But you cannot, you are busy nowadays.

Imagine, just a couple of seconds ago you are pretty sure they were all looking at you. And now, they are all in front of you with Isagi at front leading them in tow. "It's really you kiddo." You spoke in awe once he was in front of you. "Are these your friends? That quite... a lot." With all sorts of hair color variety too causing you to sweat drop. "Well... things happened. But! These are my friends from blue lock, and this is my older sibling, Isagi (First name)." "It's a pleasure to meet my younger brother's friend." You chuckle, removing your mask as you throw your arm around Yoichi's shoulder and making a two finger salute towards his friend that have their jaw dropped. "You bastard! You never told us you have an older sibling let alone a them being a model!"

Imagine tagging along with them. Sure you were in the middle of your agenda butttt that could wait, you haven't hangout with your brother for a while now. Besides, it was fun to have them around, youths have their own ways of enjoying and it's really fun. So you tag along, paying things on their behalf as the oldest among them despite those punks being loaded as fuck. Damn, they even have the Mikage heir among them and that young model you have seen before. Still, the point is that you are the oldest, and you have taken a liking on these punks so it was your treat. Not that you played with them though, you just watch them from the side. Looking at your brother fondly with a smile on your lips.

Imagine having a smoke break, a piece of cigarette yet to be lit up on your lips as you lean against the wall on an alley when you heard a footsteps coming towards you. "You smoke?" You shake your head, finger reaching out for the cigarette on your lips before signing your brother to come closer. "Why are you outside? Aren't there more time left at the karaoke?" "Oh, I just went outside for a breather." You nod once again and silence take over the place. Suddenly you really want to smoke but held it in as you open your mouth. "So.. How's blue lock?" It was an unexpected question coming from you, at least for Isagi. You have never taken interest when it comes to such things after all. But now that you asked, his eyes sparkle unknowingly. You on the other hand listened as your brother rant about his life inside the blue lock.

Imagine in the middle of their bowling match, in the midst of fun, you receive a text message from your manager causing you to bid your goodbye to them. "Oh." You look back at them that was watching your departure. "It might be too much to ask but please take a good care of my brother." You bow before standing up straight again. "And Yoichi." Before he knew it, a card was thrown in his face. "Feel free to treat your friend and buy whatever you want, you're at home till the end of the week right? I'll come home tomorrow." You spoke looking at him. "Well then, goodbye." With a silly as salute and a wink, you turn your back at them.

Imagine, Isagi always found you intimidating. Maybe it was the age gap between the two of you or the difference in your personality but you were quite hard to get along with to be honest. But now that he think about it. "Woah, you have such cool sibling, Isagi." His friends- his team mates exclaimed, even Aiku and his team could only agree. And with a laugh, "Yeah, so cool, right?" Isagi said smiling.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer - [ FORSAKEN ]

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I need to write about him…! I literally can't stop thinking about him…like seriously he's been plaguing my thoughts for dayyysssss!!!

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ SMUT ] + [ CORRUPTION & INNOCENCE KINK ] + [ SUPERIORITY COMPLEX LUCIFER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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It’s no secret that Lucifer gets obsessed with showing others the pleasures of the world and knowing you have yet to experience intimacy and now shy away from it in the afterlife simply because you fear being known as a virgin even in hell drives the fallen angel insane.

He figures your secret out quicker than anyone, always watching you closer than most, going out of his way to cluster and spoil you any way he can. When he's sure you're comfortable with his subtle advances, he moves into lingering touches and straightforward compliments.

You start to anticipate Lucifer’s attention, drowning in it whenever he's near. It’s a strange addiction you can’t shake, never having the chance to experience someone dote on you as much as he does, and he'll give into your sweet pining for him every time and not because he wants to be friends. Though it is rather flattering to his ego that you only have eyes for him.

His true interests in you stem from the desire to turn your soft words into moans of his name, imagining how the sparkle in your eyes will darken with pure lust when he fucks you for the first time, and deciding whether to make you take his cock once or more times than you'll be able to remember.

He simply has to lower your guard first, gifting you expensive items, studying your behavior outside of his company, and diligently building your self esteem with every word he says. It’s a methodical, harrowing approach, but he’s quite skilled at it.

Lucifer says all the right things and does what he can to earn your already cemented trust, and when he's sure you won't refuse his requests, he comes to your room late at night with a proposition.

He doesn't say much of anything when you allow him inside your room, eyes glowing brightly as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of your bed, gripping his cane to keep from touching the soft skin that isn't hidden by your short nightgown.

At first, his staring is something you're used to, don't see as a sign of desire, but rather a habit you assumed he has with every sinner. After a long moment, you begin to squirm, wanting him to speak since anxiety was your worst enemy, and being barely clothed in his presence was a reasonably new milestone for you.

“D-did you need something, Lucifer?” you ask him with a sheepish smile, and the blonde chuckles, biting his lip as he trails his gaze up to yours, “Yes, actually, I do, angel...” He shifts, doing away with his cane and top hat by the snap of his fingers before walking to stand in front of you. He may lack height, but you're shorter, especially sitting on a bed, and the instant height difference flutters your heart. A weird warmth spreads through your body as his scent engulfs you, a mix of pine and apple pouring off his tailored suit in waves and only intensifying as he brings a hand under your chin to lift it.

Lucifer is deliberately gentle, not wanting to startle you but drinking in your timid reactions to his touch. “Wanna help me with something important, sweetheart? It's fine if you don't want to, but you're the only one I trust to ask..” he smiles softly, holding your stare as it wanders his face for any clue to his true motives, but you find no hidden intent on his expression.

You're not naive, to a certain point, but he's far too skilled and manipulative to let you in on his goal, and so when you hesitate to answer him, Lucifer feigns a frown.

“Wouldn't you like to help me, baby doll? I'm your sovereign, after all, and it's only a small favor between friends..” his hold on your chin tightens a tad, and you gulp from the growing pressure he inflicts. You aren't allowed to look away from him then; the space between your bodies was inching towards non-existent as he nudged your knees apart with one leg, and you shivered as the fabric of his pants nestled between your inner thighs. A tender gasp leaves your lips as the fallen angel lowers his head, gradually caging you under his weight and closer to the bed itself, “You'll help me, won't you, sweet girl..” he purrs against your lips, breathing in the sultry whine of compliance you let out, “I'll help you, Luci.” You finally comply, running out of breath by the second, and deathly afraid of disappointing him with a refusal.

He grins, a deep laugh leaving his lips as you lift a hand to keep him at bay for a moment. “W-wait maybe I shouldn’t be doing this….with you…” is you can pant out as he grimaces at your hesitant action.

You don't want him to stop touching you, but you can't think straight with him this close, either, so you're prepared to break away from the devil himself until he smirks before getting a hold of your wrists. “What are you-??” The question dies on your tongue as he pushes you down entirely, grasping your jaw harshly as he kisses you gently, using his other hand to pin your hands above your head. You struggle underneath him for a second, trying to speak but too intrigued by the taste of his tongue gliding against yours, dazzled by the unfamiliar sparks in your core as he presses his thigh right on your clothed cunt.

That singular adjustment had your toes curling, a distinctive wet patch forming in your lace panties and rubbing off on his pristine white pants, and your face deepened another shade of red at the realization.

Why was this happening to you?

How could he possibly endure your hidden filthiness with so much passion?

Didn't he know you'd never done this before?

Never knew how to please another, let alone satisfy the king of Hell?

You felt a sliver of shame run up your spine, your heart beating louder as fear settled in your chest, and a sheen of tears coating your vision. “M’ sorry… I'm getting your clothes…a-all messy,” you whimper into Lucifer's mouth, absentmindedly chasing his lips for another kiss as he pulls away slightly to address your thoughtful apology -as unnecessary as it is.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. I love to feel how wet you get for me…Dont you? Means you’re enjoying my touch…” he drawls nonchalantly, pecking your lips as you nod in agreement, tentatively rutting your hips against his thigh for more friction. Lucifer hums in approval, studying your new-found reactions and encouraging your body to meld into his.

“It’s only natural, angel. I know you can’t help it….”

The remnants of purity shatter from your consciousness when he sits up above you, suit jacket and vest long gone, and his dress shirt halfway undone to expose his ivory skin. Your break out into a cold sweat spotting the rise in his crotch, a noticeable imprint of his cock stretching the white fabric of his pants, making your head spin.

Still, your focus on his heavenly features falters as he spreads your legs to rest on either side of his hips. A jolt of embarrassment hits you as cold air floods over your wet cunt, practically leaking though he's barely touched you there, and you're tempted to cover up in shame as he lowers his gaze to the sight.

“Please don't look-” you start to protest, voice shakey with worry, but he ignores your plight while trialing a hand down your torso until it cupped your mound. A pool of arousal coated his palm, drizzling past his fingers on contact, and you cried out from the subtle touch. Lucifer cursed, taken aback by your sensitivity but even more enticed by the thought of using it against you.

“It's hard to believe no one ever laid a hand on such a pleasant sinner like you…” he mutters incredulously, fixated on toying with your clit, circling his palm over it while dragging two fingers further past your folds. You gripped the duvet with tight fists, eyes rolling to the back of your head as heat entrapped your core and body tossing about to lessen the new sensation in fear of a high you'd never known before.

“Don't make me…please. Th-this…I-I can't..” you babble softly, reaching to stop his hand with one of your own and attempting to close your legs for an extra measure of protection.

Lucifer clicks his tongue, a twinge of anger biting his pride, “Keep your hands to yourself, or I'll do it for you..” he growls, and you throw him a pleading look, afraid of his authority and terrified of disappointing him.

“But I-” you start to counter his order but yelp instead as he pushed your legs back open, landing a harsh slap on your cunt as a warning, and you heed it this time with a gracious moan. Lucifer's eyes are narrow as your face falls slack, a clear indication you enjoy him being rough despite experiencing intimacy for the first time, “It’s so easy isn’t it?…Enjoying another’s touch… It’s a shame you had to wait so long for it, Angel. Breaks my heart…” he mumbles, a triumphant smirk on his face as he finally pushes one then two fingers into your hot walls.

You mewl at the sudden but slow intrusion, greedily clenching down on his digits with a lazy smile adorning your face, nodding slowly as he starts to pump them experimentally.

“You're tight…warm too. Mmm, you feel so much better than I imagined, sweetheart. Well worth the wait…” The King of Hell praises you fervently, finding your sweet spots without much effort and abusing them to his heart's content. Your mouth fell agape, poised to speak but failing to do so as tempered cries left it instead. You were in hell, and the devil was making your skin crawl with a new sin you'd never thought of indulging.

Pure lust.

Lucifer intended to get you addicted to it, addicted to him, and nothing else.

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Should I make a part 2 or leave it be??? Hmmm. Choices…choices… I hope you enjoyed it either way cause it was just sitting in my drafts for the longest time.

NO TAGS: 🚫

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Al don't be mad but you have some competition from this devilish twink- WOAH?!?? Who called him that?!?? (Not me I swearrr) ❤️ Alright ill stop. Credits to creator..

[hoshifighting]

Ex Boyfriend! Seungcheol – Jealous! Seungcheol

Synopsis: Where after a company get-together, you meet your ex-boyfriend, who wants to make you jealous. He just doesn't expect that your friend Joshua is ready to help you too.

WC: 3.4k

Warnings: Smut, angst, overstimulation, spit as lube, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, masturbation (m. and f. receiving), hair pulling, aftercare, eye contact, dirty talk and etc.

As you stepped into the office party, your heart raced. 

You hadn't seen Seungcheol since the breakup, and you had been avoiding him whenever possible–like working in the home office for weeks. But now, you couldn't help but feel a mix of nerves as you spotted him across the room, surrounded by colleagues.

As you took a deep breath and plastered on a small smile, you noticed your friends Minji and Seokmin waving at you from a nearby table. You made your way over to them, grateful to have some familiar faces among the crowd.

"So good to see you!" Seokmin exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. "We were starting to think you wouldn't show up."

You huff and roll your eyes at Seokmin's remark, grumbling that you would rather be anywhere else. Seokmin and Minji exchange knowing glances as they catch sight of Seungcheol watching you from across the room.

Seokmin leans in, giving you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "He's still looking at you."

You grimace, trying to focus on your friends and the conversation at hand, but you can't help but feel his gaze burning into your back.

You continue chatting with your friends, but their constant glances over your shoulder start to draw your attention. Eventually, curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask them what's going on. However, they remain stubbornly silent.

Finally, you can't take it anymore and turn around to see what's caught their interest.

And there he is – Seungcheol, dancing with Eunji on the dance floor.

Your friends wait for your reaction, but they weren't expecting the sound of your laughter to echo through the room. 

You chuckle to yourself, finding the situation utterly ridiculous and amusing. Your friends exchange glances, not quite sure how to respond to your sudden outburst.

"Did you just laugh?" Seokmin asks in disbelief.

Minji looks shocked at your reaction, wondering if you've lost your sanity or if this is all some elaborate joke.

As you continue laughing uncontrollably, you manage to sputter out a revelation between giggles.

"Guys," you whisper to Seokmin and Minji, "Eunji likes girls. Remember when she tried to ask me out?"

Minji and Seokmin exchange disbelieving glances, their jaws dropping open. "Wait, what?" Seokmin stutters.

You nod, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. "Yep. She asked me out once, and I had to turn her down because I was with Seungcheol - secretly, of course."

You chuckle to yourself, realizing that Eunji isn't interested in Seungcheol at all.

As you laugh and share the joke with Seokmin and Minji, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder. You turn around to find Joshua standing there, a curious smile on his face.

"What's so funny?" he asks, genuinely curious about the laughter coming from your small group.

As you try to stifle your laughter, a mischievous idea suddenly sparks to life in your mind, like a light bulb flickering to life. You look up at Joshua, a hint of playful glint in your eyes.

Joshua quirks an eyebrow, but before he can inquire further, you chime in with a question of your own.

"Hey, how come you're not dancing with anyone? Got any secret dance moves tucked up your sleeves?"

Joshua grins and stretches out his hand to lead you to the dance floor. You share a knowing wink with Seokmin and Minji, who smile incredulously, sensing the potential entertainment ahead.

As you accept his offer and step onto the dance floor, the music envelops you, and your bodies effortlessly start to move in sync.

Joshua leans in, a mischievous smile on his lips, and whispers, "I know what you're up to. Are you making Seungcheol jealous?" 

"Do you intend to be my partner in crime for the night?" You ask sly.

"I'm all in." he assures you while chuckling. "I'll not only play along, but I'll even offer to take you home."

As you and Joshua lean in close together, discussing your plan, Seungcheol can't help but notice your proximity. The sight fuels his jealousy, and his fingernails dig into his palms, a subtle sign of his frustration.

As the night progressed, you found yourself at the bar, nursing a drink and enjoying the company of Joshua. The alcohol loosens your inhibitions, and you relish in the newfound friendship. Meanwhile, Seungcheol, consumed by jealousy, ignores the colleagues attempting to engage him in conversation, his gaze occasionally flicking towards you and Joshua.

As you follow Joshua towards the garage, you can feel Seungcheol's gaze burning into your back. He watches you both step into the grey car, and his resentment simmers beneath the surface. Every detail, from the grey car to your black dress, infuriates him. He clenches his fists tightly, hating everything about the situation, but most of all, he blames himself for letting you go.

As Seungcheol's mind raced with worry and speculation, he tormenting himself with the possibilities of what you were doing in that car with Joshua. Were you at the other man's home, or were you in the familiar surroundings of the home he knew so well? Had you kissed him, or even more?

The thought of it all drove him mad, and he could do nothing but pace around, trying to find a way to calm himself down and think straight.

Despite Seungcheol's torturous thoughts, the reality was much more mundane. After dancing and drinking together all night, Joshua had kindly offered to take you home. He left you off safely at your doorstep, and you went to bed with a blissfully empty head.

As you sat on the couch the next morning, sipping your cup of tea and idly watching a show on TV, you heard a sharp knock at the door. 

Surprised, you set down your tea and padded barefoot towards the door. As you swung it open, your breath caught in your throat. 

Standing there, looking disheveled and tired, was Seungcheol. His hair was tousled, and his eyes bore a look of exhaustion, but there was something different about him now. This time, he wasn't here with a box in hand. Instead, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and full of unspoken words.

As Seungcheol stepped into your home, his fingers firmly grasping your shoulder, he subjected you to a silent analysis. His eyes skimmed over your appearance, taking in the absence of hickeys on your neck, the tangle-free state of your hair, and the adorable pajama set decorated with cats – a favorite of yours when you slept alone.

"Where's he?" Seungcheol's question hung in the air.

You cross your arms, arching an eyebrow and responding with a question of your own "What are you doing here, Seungcheol?" He shuts the door behind him as you await his answer.

Seungcheol takes a breath, his gaze never wavering from your face. "Do you have any idea what you put me through last night?" he asks, his voice low. "Did you even consider for a moment how I felt watching you with Joshua all night?"

"Did you even consider for a moment how I felt watching you with Eunji all night?" You repeat.

You felt nothing more than pity that his little theatrics had lost its appeal too soon for you.

Seungcheol scoffs. "You're throwing that back at me? Really?" he says, his voice tinged with disbelief. 

Despite your nonchalant manner, there was a hint of satisfaction in your eyes, knowing your performance had been more authentic than his.

His face twists into a frown, realizing that his attempt to make you jealous had backfired. "I watched you all night, seeing you dancing with Joshua. I thought –“ he starts, but you cut him off. 

"What did you think?" you ask, your voice cold. "That I would come running back to you like a loyal dog? That I'd be so devastated by your display with Eunji that I'd run back into your arms?"

"You're different." The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard, making you wonder what he meant. He continues, "Last time, you cried and clung to me, begging me not to leave you, but now...  now, you're standing here, cold and indifferent, like you never loved me at all." "I don't understand," he murmurs. "How can you be so cold... so detached, after everything we had?"

"Everything we had?" you echo, a hint of disbelief in your voice. "Seungcheol, at some point, you'd rather hole up in your office all day than be with me." 

"I broke up with you because I thought it would be better for you," he admits softly. "I couldn't provide you with the attention and time you deserved, and I thought ending it was the right thing to do."

A hint of irritation creeps into your voice as you reply, "And now you're here because I was enjoying myself with someone else?"

"Enjoying with... Someone else." His eyes darken, and you can see the flicker of possessive anger sparking within him at the mere mention of your time with someone else.

"Did you come here just because you can't handle the idea of me fucking with Joshua?" 

The words have barely left your lips when he suddenly slams your body against the wall, his hot breath mingling with yours as his lips hover barely an inch from yours.

Seungcheol's breath is uneven as he speaks, his voice a low, husky tone. "I... couldn't bear the thought of you doing that–" he admits, his fingers curling fiercely into the fabric of your clothes. "with him."

The words trail off as he can no longer resist the magnetic pull between you, and he closes the gap, his lips capturing yours in a hot, desperate kiss.

Seungcheol deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily, as if trying to make up for lost time. He missed every inch of you, from the taste of your lips to the way you sighed in his arms. 

Even the familiar scent of your house and the sound of your voice sent jolts of longing and nostalgia coursing through him. He needed to experience all of you, every aspect he'd been craving for so long.

Seungcheol swiftly bends you over the arm of the sofa, the urgency in his actions evident. You can hear the sound of his belt being undone, the click of the buckle echoing through the room. His movements are rough and impatient, consumed by the overpowering desire he feels for you.

He yanks down your shorts and panties in one swift motion, the fabric pooling on the ground. You hear him spit, the warm line of saliva landing on your pussy, making you squirm. Seungcheol's grip on your arm tightens as he holds it behind your back, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he commands, his voice low and authoritative.

You can feel his cock, thick and hard, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation is almost unbearable as he lines himself up with you, his breath ragged with need.

Without any more warning, Seungcheol thrusts into you, filling you completely in one swift motion. The stretch is intense, and you can't help but gasp, your fingers digging into the arm of the sofa. His cock feels impossibly thick inside you, every inch of him stretching you deliciously.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Seungcheol groans, his voice laced with pleasure.

He begins to move, each thrust deep and powerful, hitting you in all the right places. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and the moisty sounds of your wet cunt, fills the room, mingling with your gasps and his moans. His free hand slides down your body, finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles.

In that position, you could feel Seungcheol hitting that sweet spot again and again. The angle was perfect, and each thrust made you see stars. You sobbed against the couch, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body.

Seungcheol's lips brushed against your ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "I always find it, don't I?" he brags, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "Doesn't matter the time, the position... I always find it."

You can only respond with strangled moans. Every single thrust is so sharp, so deep, you feel like you're being split in half. Your walls clench around him involuntarily, heightening the sensation for both of you.

"Fuck, fuck," you stutter, your voice barely more than a whimper. "fuck this pussy... ughh, it's so good, please don't stop!"

Seungcheol pulls you by your hair, making you moan through gritted teeth. His chest presses against your back, the position making it difficult for you to moan loudly. His other hand flickers over your clit, his fingers moving so fast that your mind goes blank. Your legs quiver pathetically, unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure.

The intensity of his touch, combined with the relentless thrusting, sends you spiraling into anr orgasm. Your body convulses with pleasure, your walls clamping down around him as you scream his name. Seungcheol groans, feeling your tightness increase, driving him to the edge.

"That's it," he growls in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Cum for me. I want to feel you creaming around this cock."

And you do. You lose yourself in the sensation, your body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Seungcheol wasn’t done with you yet. Just as you thought you couldn’t handle any more, he flipped you around. Your hips rested on the arm of the sofa while your upper body collapsed onto the cushions, leaving you in an awkward, yet perfect position for him. He knelt down, his face level with your dripping core.

You screamed from the sensitivity, your legs instinctively trying to close around his head. But Seungcheol held you still, his grip firm and unyielding. His mouth latched onto your clit greedily, sucking and licking with fervor. The sensation was overwhelming, your body convulsing with each flick of his tongue.

“Seungcheol, please,” you whimpered, the overstimulation making you tremble. Your legs quivered, desperate to close, but his strong hands kept them apart.

He was relentless, his tongue swirling under the hood of your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body. You arched your back, pushing your hips against his mouth, needing more even as you felt like you were about to break.

His mouth was sloppy and wet, every movement precise and determined. You clenched around nothing, your body aching to be filled again, but he was focused on driving you over the edge with just his mouth. The intensity was too much, and you felt another orgasm building quickly.

“Fuck, Seungcheol,” you cried out, your voice trembling with desperation. "G-good! Yes, yes, yes!" 

He didn’t stop. He continued to devour you, his tongue working magic on your sensitive clit. Your cries grew louder, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure became too much to bear. You were completely at his mercy, lost in the sensations he was giving you.

With a final, powerful suck, you shattered. Your body convulsed, a scream ripping from your throat as you came hard, your legs clamping around his head despite his attempts to hold them still. Seungcheol drank you in, his tongue never slowing, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you were left trembling and breathless.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. 

Seungcheol moved, positioning himself above you, his heavy cock resting on your belly. The weight of it making you gasp, anticipation bubbling up inside you. He began to stroke himself, his hand moving up and down his slick, creamy shaft. The wet noises filled the room, mingling with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. You obeyed, your eyes locking onto his. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear, but you held it, watching every move he made.

His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to touch himself, his hand moving faster. His mouth opened, releasing the filthiest moans you’d ever heard, each one sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You could see the raw pleasure on his face, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just like that. Keep looking at me.”

You did, your eyes never leaving his, even as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sight of him, so lost in his own pleasure, was almost enough to push you over the edge again. You could see every detail – the way his muscles tightened, the way his cock pulsed in his hand, the way his mouth fell open as he moaned your name.

His hand moved faster, the sounds growing louder, wetter. You could feel his cock twitching against your skin, and you knew he was close. The sight of him, so vulnerable and raw, was almost too much to bear. You watched as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips.

His moans grew louder, more desperate, and you could see the moment he reached his peak. His body tensed, his hand moving erratically as he came, thick ropes of cum spilling onto your belly. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you intense and unbroken.

Seungcheol's eyes fluttered closed as he stood still, his chest heaving as he regulated his breath. You watched him, feeling the warmth and intimacy of the moment settle over you like a soft blanket. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked at you with a tender, almost reverent expression.

Gently, he reached out and lifted you, his strong arms cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. He adjusted your position, making sure you were comfortable before he began to carry you towards the bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. He always insisted on aftercare, claiming it was essential, and you couldn’t agree more. It was these moments of tenderness and care that made you feel cherished and safe.

As he carried you, you nestled your head against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby. The bathroom light flickered on, casting a warm glow over the room. Seungcheol set you down gently on the edge of the bathtub, his hands lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let go.

He turned on the tap, adjusting the water temperature before filling a soft washcloth with warm, soapy water. Kneeling in front of you, he began to clean you with gentle, meticulous care, his touch light and reassuring. The warm water and his soothing touch eased the lingering tension from your body, leaving you feeling relaxed and cared for.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

"I'm okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "More than okay."

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good."

As he continued to clean you, his movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke of the washcloth a reminder of how much he cared for you. When he was satisfied that you were clean, he helped you into a soft, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you with the same tender care he had shown throughout.

Seungcheol then quickly cleaned himself up before guiding you back to the bedroom. He pulled back the covers and helped you into bed, tucking the blanket around you before sliding in beside you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As you lay in Seungcheol's arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the events of the evening, you felt safe and loved in his embrace, and for now, that was enough.

You murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "We'll talk when we wake up, okay?"

Seungcheol tightened his arms around you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Okay," he agreed, his voice filled with understanding.

With that silent agreement, you both drifted off to sleep, the warmth and comfort of each other's presence lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

However, as the afternoon grows, the sounds from the city echoes, disturbing the quiet stillness of the room, your phone buzzes softly on the bedside table, jolting you awake. You reached for it groggily, blinking away the remnants of sleep as you squinted at the screen.

It was a message from Joshua.

"Did it work?" he asked, his words tinged with curiosity.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you typed out your response.

"It worked." 

[rubberbandgirlme]

so. i've replayed the demo once more, and this scene baffled me at first, his indifference and displeased face like?? hello??? what happened to our knight in shining armour?? and then i realized it's one of the very few moments he lets himself be real.

it's clear that leander doesn't like getting involved when he might look bad to one of the parties, so this is such an honest and raw reaction when he has to act, when he has to choose between the loyalty of his followers and the potential gain of doing 'business' with mc, and he hates it. also the way he slides back into his good guy mode in the last sprite is just so tasteful 🤌

i think he chooses to take mc's side not because he likes them so very much, but because it's the path of least resistance: bloodhounds are most likely to stay loyal anyway, someone mentioning the senobium is obviousy not a big deal — well, not big enough to go into a fight with your leader, — and the bandaged hands, on the other hand (what a lame pun!!!!!!! sry), are a very promising tidbit (remember that information is currency). like i'm sure leander guessed there was something wrong with mc from the start, just didn't know the details. btw mc noticed his act — the practiced speech of help offering and his suspicion about mc needing a magical solution.

also i'd like to pinpoint that he's the only one eliciting that vital piece of information from mc to potentially gain leverage. it's not like we as players have any choice here but hear me out: even ais and vere (!!!) are showing some kind of respect regarding mc's hands. ais stops mc before they undo their bandages and vere is 'careful not to disturb them' when grabbing mc's arm. did leander reaalllyyyyyyy have to go that far (also if mc hesistates to touch him, he will grab their hand himself :DDD)??? he wants to make sure you need to trust him and him only like dude. i'm still not over the piece of a dialogue below i mean how can he be so honest and manipulative all at once?!?????

"you were right to hide this from me (but now i know). that curse of yours... it's unlike anything i've ever dealt with (i can't help you). i can tell you're discreet (praising) but you'd best not go showing that off to anyone else (so that only i know your secret)"

and the most fascinating thing? i don't think he's a genius mastermind or anything of sorts, he just gets people, operates on an intuitional level, it comes to him naturally, and most of the times he believes that he's doing good.

tl;dr leander is one of the most interesting characters i've ever come upon and it's captivating to see him slip out and back into his goody two-shoes persona and i hope we'll get more moments when he's raw and real soon 👀

[simplybakugou]

Could you do another drink bakugo?

⋆ PAIRING: drunk/prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; alcohol; all characters are adults ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3003

A/N: taking a break from mystic academia cause this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and i wanted to save it until i got some inspiration for another drunk!bakugou and i finally found the inspo hehe. also when i first started writing drunk!bakugou oneshots, i was 17 LMAO and now as a 23 y/o that has actually been drunk i can write this a little more accurately lol. also i was struggling trying to end this cause i didn’t want it to be longer than it already is (imo) lol so im sorry for the awkward ending. ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ANY PLATFORM

It was a stupid idea. Why the hell would Bakugou go into a bar with the most loud and raucous people he knew even though he’d never drank a day in his life?

He couldn’t think of something he wanted to do less in that moment. He was exhausted, coming from a day of patrolling and hero work. Although his friends also came from their jobs, they actually drank alcohol and wanted to unwind after five years of constantly overworking themselves.

“Are you really not gonna get anything, Katsuki?” Sero questioned, giving the table’s drink orders to the bartender.

“I’m not fucking up my body just to look like an idiot like you dumbasses,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

“Why’d you come then?” Kaminari quipped, interested in hearing Bakugou’s answer.

“Cause your dumbass wouldn’t stop bothering me about coming out tonight!” Bakugou replied angrily.

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, laughing at himself. “I forgot.”

“It’s good to come out with us once in a while,” Kirishima said, nodding his head. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since we graduated, man. We haven’t seen you in years.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not stopping until I’m number one. You shits can drink all you fucking want but I’m not gonna sit around every week just to catch up.”

Kaminari sighed, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Sero nodded along with him.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Bakugou snarled, slamming his fist against the table out of annoyance.

“You’re a workaholic, dude,” Sero stated matter-of-factly. “When are you gonna have the time to date? If you slowed down a little you could’ve at least gone out with Y/N back when you had a crush on her in U.A.”

“I did not have a crush on that shitty girl.” Bakugou felt himself getting even more angered just hearing your name uttered. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Kirishima said, patting his friend on the shoulder only to get shook off by Bakugou. 

The drinks Sero ordered arrived and the rest of the guys cheered each other before downing their beverages. Bakugou sipped on his water he was forced to get after Sero berated him to order something.  

The more alcohol his friends consumed, the more rowdy and even more raucous they got and Bakugou questioned even more why he decided to go out with them. It was karaoke night at the bar and Bakugou swore his ears were bleeding as Kaminari consistently kept attempting to serenade him.

Despite how chaotic it was in the bar that night, Bakugou eventually found himself enjoying it. Kaminari and Sero got the most drunk, getting up to dance and stumbling over one another, which made Bakugou and Kirishima burst into laughter. He would never tell them, but he needed this time out and away from the constant need to work towards his one and only goal. 

The night was going great; until the door to the bar opened. Bakugou turned his head to the noise of the bell ringing above the door. It stuck out amongst the voices and loud nature of the room and he felt his face drop at the sight.

There you were, five years older than the last time he had seen you in person. And you weren’t alone as your arm was looped around the arm of another man.

Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at the sight. He drowned out the sounds of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and a few strangers they had recruited at the bar playing drinking games as his focus was only on you. You scanned the area, waving shyly to a few people that recognized you as their favorite rising hero and sat in the corner of the room with your mystery man.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, recognizing that he was distracted by something else and looked towards what had caught his eye. He immediately understood the reason for the defeated look on his friend’s face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Kirishima stated simply. 

“Sorry?” Bakugou scoffed. “For what? There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were never together.” The last part Bakugou muttered to himself as he finally tore his eyes away from you and down to his glass of water.

And it was true; you and Bakugou were never together back when you attended U.A. with him and the others. Matter of fact, you didn’t even know Bakugou liked you back then as he made it his mission that you never found out. Not only did he refuse to let himself be subjected to such vulnerable feelings like love and infatuation, you and your peers were constantly bombarded with hero work and dealing with the League of Villains to ever have the time for confessions. At the time, romantic relationships were trivial. 

As things died down by the time class A graduated, Bakugou busied himself with his long-time goal of wanting to become the number one hero. He kept telling himself that it was time to grow up and forget about what he assumed to be a little crush but the more he kept shoving his feelings inside, the more intense they became.

That was why it felt like a punch to the gut to see you laughing with and leaning onto a man that wasn’t him. 

“Hey, dunce face,” Bakugou grunted. Kaminari lifted his head and looked over at Bakugou with hazy eyes. “Get me the strongest drink here.”

“Dude, you really should slow down,” Kirishima urged, concerned as he watched Bakugou down shot after shot. “You’ve never drank before and this’ll probably mess you up fast.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou said in a rush, out of breath from the abundance of liquids he furiously ingested. He held the next shot glass to his lips, preparing himself to throw it back along with the countless shots he had already done; he felt like he was going to be sick, to no one’s surprise. Bakugou slammed the shot glass down onto the table, still full of alcohol, and he slammed his head onto the table as well. His head was throbbing but he felt like he could float in the air if he really tried. 

Kirishima chuckled at his friend, taking advantage of the situation and taking the shot glass away from Bakugou. 

Kaminari swung his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “See, dude, now we’re having fun!” The last word was elongated as he let out a small hiccup.

“Get the fuck off of me, dunce face,” Bakugou mumbled with his head still on the table, causing his words to be muffled. Nevertheless, Kaminari knew exactly what his grouchy friend had said but ignored him.

For the first time that night, Kaminari looked around the room and noticed you sitting alone now in the corner of the bar. He shot up, waving his hand out at you. “Y/N!”

Bakugou’s eyes, which were once closed shut as the alcohol was rushing to his head all at once, shot wide open as he whipped his head up. He felt dizzy from how quick the motion was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, man, she’s sitting over there all alone,” Kaminari reasoned, turning his attention back to you. You also had finally noticed your old classmates, smiling at the sight. “Hang out with us, Y/N!”

“Alone?” Bakugou questioned softly. He looked over at you and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he carefully watched you make your way to their table, mystery man out of the picture.

“I didn’t know you guys were here tonight,” you said with a smile. You sounded level-headed and Bakugou determined that you were probably the most sober person in the room that night.

“Yeah, we come here a lot after our patrol shifts,” Sero commented.

“All of you?” You questioned, interested as you scanned each of the guys sitting at the table. Finally you locked eyes with Bakugou and he swore your gaze could’ve pierced right through him. He broke eye contact first as he felt his face burning up even more with the effects of the alcohol. 

“We usually have to beg Katsuki to come out. You know how he is,” Kirishima teased, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend. It didn’t work as Bakugou still had a sour expression on his face.

“Wanna get a few drinks with us?” Kaminari offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. Tonight hasn’t gone the way I wanted so I think I’m going to call it a night. It was nice seeing you guys.”

You waved goodbye to the boys, sending a small smile towards Bakugou as you understood he was in a bad mood but not understanding why. Your back was turned to them as you walked towards the exit and it was a miracle how you didn’t have two vermillion holes in your back the way Bakugou was staring at you leaving.

Bakugou stood up abruptly and he grabbed his coat and wallet. He sloppily pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the table as he made his way out as well.

“Where are you going?�� Kirishima questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You cursed at yourself for leaving your jacket in your date’s car as the winter snow began to litter the streets. Your body was shivering terribly. The bar had a few tables and chairs in front of the building and you sat yourself down as you contemplated how on Earth you were going to get home. 

Before you could come up with a game plan, you felt a heavy leather jacket plop down onto your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden contact, watching as a clearly drunk-but-pretending-to-be-sober Bakugou sat himself in the chair across from you. “Bakugou! What’re you doing here?”

Bakugou ignored your question as he bluntly asked, “Where’s that fucker you came in with?”

You were taken aback by his questions. Only a few minutes ago did you realize that Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were there in the bar with you that night. If he had seen you with your date, that meant Bakugou had seen you when you walked in. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling Bakugou’s jacket closer to you as it kept you warm. “He was being… weird.”

“Weird how.” It was a question but you sensed the animosity in Bakugou’s tone as his expression harshened in a way that made his question a statement.

You waved your hands to calm him down. Why was he so upset? “Nothing bad, don’t worry. He’s just some guy I started dating. We weren’t official or anything but I liked him. He said he didn’t like me being a hero and said I should get a job that’d suit me in a feminine way.” You chuckled humorlessly as you recalled the misogynistic comment.

“What a fucking loser,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you to hear and laugh at. He leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes. “You told him to fuck off, right?”

You nodded, amused as you always were back in U.A. with Bakugou’s colorful vocabulary. “Yup. He got pissed and left me here and I left my stuff in his car like an idiot.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and reached into his front pocket, cursing at himself as his fingers kept missing the opening seam. He pulled out his car keys and tossed them onto the table. You furrowed your eyes at the sight in confusion.

“Take my car to get home.”

You widened your eyes at his insane proposition, looking at the insignia on his keys as an expensive brand. “Bakugou, your car’s worth like a hundred million yen! There’s no way I can drive that!” 

“Just do it, idiot,” Bakugou groaned, placing his forehead on the cold, snow-covered table. “Can’t let you just sit here in the cold.”

A moment passed as you were contemplating your choices only to realize in that time, Bakugou had fallen asleep. You chuckled softly, never expecting to see health-conscious Bakugou who’s always been adamant about never drinking inebriated. 

You grabbed his keys and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket, slipping the jacket onto your arms. You knew you couldn’t just take his car and leave him here like this so you got up and went over to his side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, big guy. We’re going home”

Bakugou let out a groan as you got him to his feet, your arm around his shoulders and you wrapped his arm around your waist to support him, resting your hand on his hand. You felt his body stiffen in reaction and you looked up at him curiously. His face was red again and you assumed it was a combination of the alcohol and the frigidness in the air. It most definitely was not either of those things.

“Where’d you park your car?” You asked as you slowly helped him walk.

He nodded in the direction ahead of you and you assumed he was referring to the parking lot that was thankfully right next to the bar. The two of you continued walking towards the lot and you found it unusual how quiet Bakugou was.

Once reaching the lot, you were originally going to search for Bakugou’s car only to not have to put any effort at all since his bright red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Subarus and Toyotas.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Why am I not surprised by this at all, Bakugou.”

Bakugou flinched and he slowly pulled away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wobbly made his way to his car. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t want me to call you Bakugou?” You question, confused. “Oh! I get it. You want me to call you by your hero name, right, Dynamight?”

“That’s not it either, idiot.”

“Oh, then, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“You’re so stupid.” Bakugou stopped right in front of his car and turned around, slowly so that he wouldn’t fall over. He had his signature frown on his face only this time it was out of frustration. “Back in U.A. you’d call me Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you said, nodding your head as you recalled doing so. “But that was five years ago. I haven’t seen you since then and I just wanted to be polite.”

Bakugou kept quiet but his eyes never faltered or wavered as he kept them on you. You felt like he could burn right through you if he tried as you didn’t understand his frustrations. “Is everything okay, Ba– I mean, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly widened for a moment and he felt like he was transported back to being a teenager. “No. Everything’s not okay ‘cause I still have this stupid crush on you that I’ve had since our first year in U.A.”

He let out a sigh, feeling a weight on his shoulders dissipate and he turned around back towards his car. You stood in place, shocked at the confession that you did not foresee at all. There was no way the Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you, especially when you were just teenagers.

“Open the door.” Bakugou turned his head to you as he waited by the passenger door.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You waved your hands in front of you, still unable to wrap his words around your head. “This has to be a joke. There’s just no way– Why would you have a crush on me?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno. Just happened.”

Your face felt hot and it wasn’t because of the weather. So much of your relationship with Bakugou made sense with this new realization. The reason for his cold shouldering you on numerous occasions or annoyed stares he’d give you when you got in a relationship in your second year all started to make sense. It was his way of conveying his feelings for you. 

You shook your head, shaking the complex thoughts from your mind and snapping yourself back to reality as the cold air and Bakugou not having a jacket, since you were obviously wearing it, made you unlock his car with the key he gave you. You watched as Bakugou entered his car on the passenger side.

You knew you needed to give yourself a minute before you could enter the car beside him. How did you feel about him? You always thought he was handsome, when he wasn’t scowling at least, and you enjoyed seeing him mature every year in U.A. Even after graduation, you always watched the news fondly as you watched him evolve into an incredible hero, one that you knew was worthy of becoming number one. 

So Bakugou Katsuki liked you. If your poor previous relationships taught you anything, it was to not turn down a good man when he was right in front of you. Or at least sitting in his sports car waiting for you to drive the two of you home since he was unexpectedly inebriated to do so himself. 

Taking in a breath, you knew what you had to do; you wanted to see where this would go between the two of you. You opened the driver’s side door, sitting in your seat and collecting your thoughts briefly before turning to Bakugou to tell him exactly what was on your mind. You wanted to give it a shot.

And you were intent on doing just that until you turned to look at Bakugou only to see he was once again fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. You chuckled at the sight, taking in how adorable he was in that moment. Slipping his jacket off your body, you draped it over his body.

“Guess you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

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[nahoney22]

Hello darling!

Hope all is well!

I would love a season 2! Hunter x reader smut fic if you have the time!

I was thinking reader has broken up with her ex after a horrible dinner at his family’s house and after the ex doesn’t defend her, she walks away. Hunter noticed reader having a rough time for a few weeks and finally asks her about it leading to confessions of feelings and some loving intimacy.

Like reader really wanted to be with Hunter but he didn’t seem interested (even though he was) so she started dating a guy none of the boys liked but kept quiet for her sake.

I love everything you’ve written Honey so take your time!

Thank you love!

In Plain Sight***🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Female Reader

word count: 4.4k

prompts: none

After an embarrassing breakup, you feel lost and confused. But as Hunter comes to lend a reassuring hand he’s surprised about what you tell him and more so, how you feel for him.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Bad Breakup, Reader’s ex is an arse and so is his family, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers, confessing of feelings, first kiss, making out, explicit sexual content and language, oral sex, fingering, blowjob, nudity, vaginal sex, porn with feelings, aftercare. Not proofread.

warnings: hope this is okay @originalcollectionartistry 🩵

You thought you knew the pain of breakups, having weathered a few in the past. But nothing had prepared you for this.

Meeting your partner's family had always felt like a make-or-break moment, and tonight, as you trudged back to the Marauder in the pouring rain, clothes clinging to your skin, frustration and rage boiling within you, it was painfully clear how disastrously it had gone.

Initially, his parents seemed charming, nice even. Their pride in their son evident. But when their eyes fell on you, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. They peppered you with questions about your job or lack of currently, your home, your life, and with each chuckle that followed your answers, discomfort gnawed at you. What had you said that was so amusing? Why did his siblings give you dirty looks as though you’d been dragged through a sarlaac pit?

Desperately, you reached for your boyfriend's hand under the dinner table, hoping for some sign of comfort and support. Instead, his laugh cut through the air, and his words shattered you. "I told her she could be successful if she stops what she does now! She just likes being in tattered armour rather than dressing like a normal citizen."

Your heart stopped. Where had that come from? He had always claimed to admire your ambitions and your adventures? "Babe?" you pleaded uncomfortably, but he only laughed harder, his family joining in as they began to tear you apart.

You couldn’t take it any longer. With a sharp slam of your hand on the table, you left, storming out without a backward glance. The worst part? He didn't chase after you. He didn't try to stop you or even comm you as you walked away.

The Marauder loomed ahead, but you paused, struggling to catch your breath. The wind and rain howled, wrapping around you like a constrictive shroud, but you pressed on, doing your best to appear unbothered.

What a failure that was.

You hit a button on your wrist, and the door to the ship opened with a mechanical hiss, the gangplank dropping down. Normally, the sounds of life inside the Marauder would bring a smile to your face, but not today.

Dripping wet, you walked up, running a hand through your soaked hair, hoping to slip in unnoticed. You kicked off your boots, pleasantly surprised they weren’t brimming with rainwater, and prepared to stealthily sneak to your bunk. However, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“You’re back early.” Hunter; voice calm but observant.

Biting your lip, you kept your back to him as tears automatically threatened to spill. “Uh, yeah. Got a stomach ache,” you lied, your voice unsteady.

You heard Hunter draw a breath to speak, but before he could, a heavy hand clasped your shoulder, turning you to face Wrecker, who was grinning until he saw your face. “Back from lover boy’s alre—uh, what’s the matter?”

You couldn’t stop the sob that erupted from your chest, your hand flying to your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle it. The noise drew everyone’s attention. Omega darted between Hunter and Wrecker, her eyes wide with worry. “What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching out for your arm.

You hated pulling away from her, but you did, turning quickly and retreating to your bunk. The others, sensing your need for space, didn’t follow—at least, not immediately.

“She did not seem okay,” Tech states, his tone neutral.

“Well observed, Tech,” Echo retorted, rolling his eyes.

Hunter stood silent, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides. What had happened to you? “Let’s give her some space,” he said finally. “Omega, maybe bring her some caf in an hour or two, hm?” He placed a reassuring hand on the young girl’s shoulder. Omega’s eyes, still glazed with worry, never left the spot where you had disappeared. She had never seen you cry like that before—tears of laughter, sure, but never this.

As you wept in your bunk, a deep sense of embarrassment gnawed at you. Embarrassed by what happened at your ex-boyfriend's family home—because yes, he was clearly an ex now—and even more embarrassed that five people you adored had witnessed your emotional breakdown.

Six months. You had been with him for just shy of six months, and you had genuinely believed things were going well. No 'I love yous' had been exchanged, but that hadn't bothered you. Or so you thought. Now, the humiliation he had inflicted stung more than the end of the relationship itself. That spoke volumes. And his family? Utterly slimy.

"Hey," a quiet voice broke through your thoughts. You sniffled, rolling over to see Omega standing there, a steaming cup of caf in her hands and Lula tucked under her arm. "I got you a drink."

You managed a soft smile, sitting up and making room for Omega to sit beside you. "Thanks," you mumbled, taking the drink from her hands. She remained silent for a moment, and you half-expected her to say something, but she didn't. Instead, she rested her head on your arm, and your heart swelled.

Sometimes, just a hug was all you needed. But sadly, that was only sometimes. The comfort was fleeting but you had a lot of thinking to do.

Days blurred into weeks, but the pain didn't subside. Each attempt at conversation ended in choked sobs, leaving you feeling more isolated than ever. Finally, you made a decision—for the sake of the team, and for your own well-being. You had to leave.

Albeit, only temporarily.

Finding a small apartment on Ord Mantell, you sought solace. The others had insisted you stay with them, promising things would improve, but you couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t find peace. And Hunter... well, he didn’t exactly make things easier.

Before your ill-fated relationship, your heart had belonged to Hunter, whether he knew it or not. His mere presence had always set your heart aflutter, but it had been painfully obvious that he didn’t share your feelings. Truthfully you had never confessed your emotions, but being around him now, as a single person, only reignited those dormant feelings.

You came to the quick realisation you hadn’t loved your ex—not truly. Deep down, you feared that your heart was still reserved for someone else. Someone like Hunter. Someone who is Hunter.

You gaze out the window of your apartment, lost in thought and it wasn't just about the desperate need to spruce up the place. The dim lights flickered occasionally from the outdated fixtures. The walls, scuffed and patched but showed no signs of damp or mold, which was a relief. The landlords had tried to add a touch of character with cheap holo-posters of Mandalorian warriors and a famous podracer you hadn’t heard of and as for the kitchenette it was uninspiring, but functional atleast.

However, the bedroom was your solace. Modest, with a slightly lumpy mattress, but it offered you the best sleep you'd had in ages, a rare chance to clear your mind.

Your thoughts were fixed to your ex—not out of longing, but out of lingering self-doubt. His cruel words still echoed, making you question if others felt the same way about you. Was this the life you were destined for? Barely surviving with the Batch, every transmission from Cid leading you on another wild Bantha chase for a pittance. It wasn’t sustainable for anyone.

A sudden buzz from your door jolted you from your thoughts. You blinked, unsure if you'd heard correctly, before it buzzed again. "Oh."

You jogged over, curiosity piqued. As the door opened with an unpleasant hiss from its faulty wiring, your eyes widened at the familiar sight of golden-brown eyes staring back at you.

"Hi, Hunter," you said softly, a strange sensation washing over you.

"Hey. Mind if I come in?" he asked, and you stepped aside as he brushed past you. Stars, you would never get over how good he smelled.

You let the door close behind you and watched as Hunter took in your apartment. "It’s not much," you said sheepishly, folding your arms over your chest.

"It’s cold," he remarked, moving to a heating unit and switching it on. It rattled and creaked ominously, so he quickly turned it off. "Tech should take a look at that."

You chuckled in agreement, following Hunter as he continued to inspect your environment, not very discreetly. "So… any reason for the visit?"

"Can’t an old friend come to see you?" he replied. The term 'friend' made your heart somewhat pang, but you rolled your eyes at his comment.

"Old friend? Hunter, I’ve been gone for like four rotations."

"Feels like fourteen," he muttered, taking a seat on the couch, which seemed surprisingly comfortable judging by his expression.

A moment of silence settled between you, thick with unspoken words. You took a seat beside him, the reality of his presence slowly sinking in. "Hunter, why are you really here?"

He looked at you, eyes serious. "I came to check on you. To make sure you're okay. You left so suddenly, and… it didn’t feel right without you around."

“It’s been… tough,” you admit quietly. “Being away from you all, dealing with...everything.”

Hunter looks at you, his gaze steady and warm. “We miss you. I, uh, miss you. The team isn’t the same without you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You look down, unable to meet his eyes. “I just needed some space to figure things out.”

“Can I ask what it is you need to figure out?”

“You can,” you begin with a small scoff, “but I’m afraid I don’t even know the answer to that.”

Hunter clasps his hands together, his knee bouncing up and down. His gaze shifts to your kitchenette. “Did…” he trails off, hesitating. You look at him, raising a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Finally, he meets your eyes again. “You were really upset all those weeks ago and so I’m assuming you and that guy broke up and I can’t help but ask… did he hurt you?”

You close your eyes, the topic still painful, but you shake your head. “No, he didn’t. Not physically anyway.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he says quickly, concern etched on his face. Again, you shake your head.

“Maybe this is a good idea,” you admit. “Someone to rant to. It’s been weeks, almost months since the breakup, and my mind has been a mess. Some advice would be good.”

Hunter nods, his expression softening. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “It’s not just about the breakup. It’s about everything. I feel like I’m constantly fighting just to keep my head above water. Every mission we go on for Cid feels like a waste, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re stuck in a cycle. And then, he… he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. Like my choices were wrong, my ambitions worthless.”

Hunter’s eyes darken slightly, his jaw tightening. “He was wrong. You’re one of the strongest people I know. And your ambitions? They’re what make you who you are.”

“But what if he wasn’t entirely wrong?” you counter, your voice beginning to tremble. “What if I’m just fooling myself, thinking I’m capable of more when I’m not?”

Hunter reaches out, placing a hand over yours. The warmth and steadiness of his touch grounds you. “Listen to me. You are capable. You’ve proven that time and time again. And it’s okay to feel lost sometimes. We all do. But you don’t have to face it alone.”

“Thanks Hunter,” you say with earnest, “I appreciate what you’ve said.”

The pair of you sit in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can’t help but glance down at his hand still on top of yours, his thumb brushing over your skin delicately. Your skin prickles with an intensity, a burning sensation that makes your heart race. Luckily, Hunter speaks up before you do or say anything foolish.

“If it makes you feel any better, me and the lads didn’t really like him.”

Oddly enough, it doesn’t. You turn your gaze back to him, giving him a look of uncertainty. “Why not?”

He seems surprised by your question and clears his throat. “Uh, there was just something off, I guess.”

You blink and have to refrain from scoffing. “So after all this time, none of you decided to tell me that you didn’t even like the guy?”

Hunter removes his hand from yours, and you shudder internally as the sudden coldness replaces his touch. “The others thought you were happy.”

“And you didn’t?”

Hunter hesitates, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on his face as he searches for the right words. “I saw things that made me worry. Little signs that you weren’t entirely happy. But I didn’t want to interfere.”

You don’t know why, but a sudden surge of irritation wells up inside you, threatening to spill over. “So you saw that I wasn’t entirely happy and just decided to stay quiet? Let me guess, you also knew I liked you and didn’t say anything either?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you freeze. Hunter’s eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a rush of panic, your heart pounding in your chest. “I… I didn’t mean…”

The realisation of what you’ve just admitted hits you like a punch to the gut. Flustered and embarrassed, you quickly retreat to your bedroom, your voice barely a whisper as you mutter, “You’re free to leave whenever you want,” before shutting the door behind you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, your heart racing and your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. What have you done? You put your face in your hands, trying to calm yourself, but the embarrassment only grows, a painful lump forming in your throat.

Minutes pass, each one stretching out miserably as you replay the conversation in your mind. You curse yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you, for blurting out something so deeply personal. The silence in your room feels oppressive, weighing down on you.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you decide to leave your bedroom and apologise. Taking a deep breath, you open the door, only to find Hunter standing right there, his expression a mixture of determination and vulnerability.

“I knew,” he says softly, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “I knew because your heart never beat the way it did around me when you were with him.”

Your breath catches, backing up as he comes closer, the raw honesty in his voice and the closeness of his body making your pulse quicken. “Hunter…”

“I could see how your eyes lit up around me, how you laughed and weren’t as reserved around me,” you stop just by the edge of your bed, your knees trembling at his every word, “I could sense how aroused you were around me…”

“Hunter,” you repeat again, breathless, “w-why are you saying this now?”

“Because I was stupid to think that we would naturally click. That one day we will both wake up and decide to be together but it never happened.” He mutters, his hand raising, taking some of your hair between his fingers and twisting it softly. “I’ve always felt it, and I couldn’t stand seeing you with him, knowing you weren’t happy.”

“I…”

Before you can finish, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, passionate kiss. At long last.

Your hands find their way to his muscular shoulders, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss once you moan into his mouth, tongue exploring yours with an urgency that makes your body feel ablaze.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your skin, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me too.”

“I want you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need, your fingers clutching at his shirt, “I always have.”

With a satisfied grunt, Hunter pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you as your arms and legs entwine, lips chasing yours with a hungry urgency. His body is a comforting weight against you, his presence grounding you in the moment, erasing the turmoil of the past weeks.

It isn’t long before you’re both stripped bare, his lips trailing fiery paths down your neck, alternating with his hand on your breast, kneading and teasing. “Hunter,” you pant his name, the sound escaping your lips without conscious thought, a natural response to his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he purrs, his lips moving up to your jaw, then capturing your mouth again. “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” you manage, blushing as you smile against his lips. Your breath hitches when you feel the warm, hard length of him press against your thigh. You can't deny that you’ve fantasised about this moment, wondering about the size and feel of Hunter’s cock, imagining the sensation of it in your mouth.

Hunter seems to read your thoughts, flashing you a knowing smirk before kissing your cheek. Slowly, you start to move down his body, your eyes never leaving his. His gaze darkens with lust, his pupils blown wide, and he lets out a low groan as your tongue flicks over the bulbous head of his cock. That dainty lick is just the beginning, a tease that quickly transforms into something more intense. A moan escapes Hunter as your warm, slick tongue circles the tip, exploring every ridge and vein. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The sensation of your tongue dancing over his length is exquisite, his throat closing up, unable to contain the gritted, strained moans that tumble from his lips. He gently lays a hand in your hair, grabbing a handful as he starts to guide your head, the pressure firm but tender.

You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers through his body. His breathing becomes tight as you bob your head back and forth with growing fervor, taking him deeper with each movement. His grip in your hair tightens, his hips starting to move in time with your rhythm, a low growl escaping him as he fights to maintain control.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. The slick, wet sound of your mouth on him fills the room like a symphony of pleasure. Hunter's hand tightens in your hair, his control slipping as he guides you faster, the pleasure building.

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, your tongue continuing its dance along his length. Hunter’s hips buck involuntarily, his breaths coming in ragged gasp. ''Hah, ahh... keep going, keep- fu...'

As Hunter's moans intensify, panting your name, you suddenly pull away, a teasing smile on your lips as he gasps at the loss of contact. “You minx.” His eyes, dark with desire, follow your movements as you shift back onto the bed.

He knows what to do.

Placing a lingering kiss to your lips, you bite your lip in anticipation as he moves down down, his breath warm against your skin, as he trails kisses along your inner thigh. “I can’t believe I have you.” He murmurs to himself, his hands gliding over your hips.

“Let me take care of you,” he then whispers, his voice thick with need. Before you can respond, his mouth finds your most sensitive spot, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles that send waves of pleasure through your body. You gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as he works, his tongue alternating between gentle flicks and deep, languid strokes agaisnt your pussy.

Your body feels like jelly already, legs threatening to close over his head but Hunter’s hands spread your legs wider, his grip firm yet tender.

You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him, your chest rising and falling heavily as he looks up at you, his eyes locking with yours. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Truly. The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch and toh watch in awe as he sticks out his tongue, making sure you were watching as he leans in closer and flicks your pretty pearl. “That’s so good.” You sigh, on cloud 9.

He continues his pace for a minute before he dives back in, his tongue exploring every inch of you with a fervour that leaves you trembling. One hand moves to your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, sending tingles down your spine.

Then, you feel his fingers replace his tongue, sliding inside you with ease, curling to hit that perfect spot. A wanton moan of surprise leaves your mouth, head falling back as you grip the sheets below you. “H-Hunter, don’t stop.”

You can feel his smirk once his mouth returns to your clit, sucking gently as his fingers pump in and out, the dual sensation driving you to the edge.

And he doesn’t let up, his pace relentless, and you feel the tension coiling tighter in your core until it snaps. You cry out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over you, his name a litany on your lips as you cum all over his mouth. Your body becomes jelly, trembling as Hunter continues to move, drawing out your climax until you’re left breathless and practically boneless beneath him.

He crawls over you once you settle, a hand cupping your face. “Was that okay?” he asks, his voice tender, filled with genuine concern.

“Perfect,” you sigh, still completely spent. “I never thought this would happen,” you whisper.

He gazes down at you, smitten. “Me either. I’ve… I’ve wanted to do this for so long. To finally be with you.”

You lean up, stealing a kiss that he reciprocates eagerly. “Do you want more?” he asks, the implication of sex evident as you feel his cock press against you, hard and ready.

You still for a moment. A small pang of guilt surfaces—was it too soon to be doing this? But as you meet Hunter’s gaze, you see something you had never seen or felt with your ex: love. You always loved him, and you were now certain he had always loved you.

“You don’t have to ask twice,” you murmur, your voice soft but filled with resolve.

His eyes glimmer with excitement. He lifts himself slightly, grasping his cock with his right hand and guiding himself to your entrance. Running the tip along your sensitive puffy slit, a teasing moan falls from your lips that nearly makes him thrust right in—but he waits just a little longer, enjoying the gentle friction of his cock against your throbbing sex.

Propped up on his left arm, he admires your nude frame perfectly, your lower lips parting as he inches in just a little. “Oh… that feels…”

“I know,” he groans as he sheaths himself halfway into you, his eyelids heavy with pleasure.

And then, with a deep, satisfied groan, the sergeant pushes all the way inside.

You purse your lips but whine through them all the same, your expression pinching only momentarily before a laboured moan escapes, pleasure evident as he sinks inch after inch of his girth inside you. “You’re so thick in me,” you gasp, your back arching as he stills, remaining buried inside you. It’s a snug fit, but it feels right.

Hunter begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Each thrust is measured, savoring the way your body responds to him, the way you tighten around him with every stroke. His hands roam your body, one coming to rest on one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

Then, he picks up a new rhythm that feels achingly perfect, each thrust driving deeper, the friction igniting sparks of pleasure with every stroke. Your cunt clenched around his cock, your breasts bouncing up and down with each penetration into you.

“Oh fuck! D-don’t stop, don’t stop.” Your expression is one of pure lust, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, wanting him closer. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.” You cry, eyes almost rolling into the back of your head as one hand grips your hips, the other circling your clit with a tense pace.

Soon he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his movements becoming more urgent. The room is filled with the sound of your bodies coming together, the steady slap of skin on skin, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more powerful, driving deeper.

“Hunter,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes you both higher to another climax.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, voice heavy with want. He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, making you whimper out in ecstasy. The pleasure is overwhelming, building to a fever pitch, and you can feel another climax approaching fast.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter around him, your body tensing and trembling as the orgasm rips through you as your hands tangle in his long hair. Hunter follows close behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he pulls out, his hand moving to stroke himself.

Hunter groans your name repetitively as he hits his high, hot ropes of his release splashing across your chest and stomach. He collapses beside you, wiping the sweat from his brow before pulling you into his arms, his breath mingling with yours in the aftermath.

After a while he gets up and gets something to clean you up with and once done, he lays back down beside you with your head buried into his chest.

For a moment, everything else fades away, and all that exists is the two of you, tangled in each other’s embrace. “It’s going to be okay, you know?” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

As you lie there, the warmth of his body against yours, the future suddenly seems a little less uncertain as long as you were with Hunter.

🫧Masterlist

🫧Hunter Works

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka

@theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone

@ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog

@ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora

[thatdammchickennugget]

Twists Of Fate

pairing -james potter x fem!reader

summary - a chance reunion at a wedding leads to unexpected sparks between you and james

warnings - shitty ex, james is a danger to everyone around him, fluff

wordcount - 2.2k

You're standing near the edge of the dance floor, nursing a glass of champagne and pretending to be deeply interested in the intricacies of your friend's wedding decor. The fairy lights twinkle overhead, casting a warm glow on the happy couples swirling around you. You try to focus on the joy of the occasion, but your mind keeps drifting back to the events of the past few weeks.

Your ex-boyfriend, the one who decided that your relationship wasn't worth more than a passing fling, is here. And not only is he here, but he's here with a new girl, draped on his arm like the latest fashion accessory. Every time you catch sight of them, your heart twists painfully in your chest.

"Hey, you look great," he says after walking up to you, a smug smile playing on his lips as his new girlfriend giggles beside him. "Too bad things didn't work out between us, huh?"

Before you can formulate a response that doesn't involve throwing your drink in his face, he leans in closer, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Listen, I just wanted to say that I hope we can still be friends, you know? It's not like we ended things on bad terms or anything."

You bite back a bitter laugh, nodding along as if his words actually mean something to you. In your opinion, him cheating on you and then blaming his mistake on you left you far from ‘on good terms’. Inside, you're seething with anger and frustration. How dare he waltz in here with his new conquest, acting like he's the picture of decency?

But just as you're about to excuse yourself and find someplace else to drown your sorrows, a voice interrupts.

"Sweetheart, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

You blink in surprise as James Potter, of all people, strides up to you, an easy grin on his face. He slips an arm around your waist, drawing you close. His touch is warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the icy dread pooling in your stomach.

"James?" you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

Of course you remember him from school. Everyone knew of him. You had talked to him once in a while during your time at school, mostly when he found himself interrupting your study sessions with Remus in the library, but since graduating two years ago your paths hadn’t crossed again until right now.

He doesn't miss a beat, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Sorry I'm late, love. Got caught up trying to find a decent tie. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one that matches your eyes?"

Your eyes fall down to his broad chest on their own accord, and to your surprise, his tie actually happens to match almost perfectly.

Your ex is staring, slack-jawed, clearly not expecting this turn of events. James turns to him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think we've met. I'm James, her date."

"Date?" your ex echoes, the smugness evaporating from his expression.

"Yes, date," James repeats cheerfully, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You know, the person you bring to events like this to remind you what it's like to have someone who actually appreciates your company. But hey, I get it, it can be confusing for some people."

You can't help but stifle a laugh at the way he says it, his tone so breezy and unbothered. You decide to play along, slipping your arm around his in return.

"Thanks for coming to find me," you say, trying to sound as natural as possible. "I was just about to head back to the dance floor."

James winks at you, his grin widening. "Anything for you, darling."

As he leads you away, you glance back to see your ex still standing there, looking utterly flabbergasted. It's a small victory, but it feels monumental.

"You didn't have to do that," you murmur once you're out of earshot.

James shrugs, his expression softening. "Seemed like you could use a hand. Plus, it’s always fun to mess with someone who clearly deserves it."

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing a bit. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"Oh, I plan to collect," he says with a teasing glint in his eye. "But for now, how about a dance? You know, to really sell the whole 'date' thing."

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, Potter. One dance."

As you follow James onto the dance floor, the music envelops you, its lively beat washing away the lingering discomfort from the encounter. James wastes no time in taking the lead, his movements smooth and confident as he guides you through the crowd.

"So," he says, his voice close to your ear as he spins you effortlessly, "how's life been treating you since Hogwarts?"

You can't help but chuckle at his casual demeanor, the tension of the evening melting away with every step. "Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to navigate the treacherous waters of adulting and all that."

James grins, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, yes, the dreaded adulting. I hear it's a real beast but I wouldn’t know anything about that."

You nod in agreement, your laughter mingling with the music. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to worrying about O.W.L.s and Quidditch matches."

"Hey, at least in the wizarding world, adulting comes with the added bonus of using magic without getting into trouble," James quips, twirling you expertly before pulling you back into his arms. "Although, I suppose dealing with an ex at a wedding could be considered a form of dark magic."

You playfully swat at his arm, unable to suppress a grin. "You're terrible, you know that?"

He grins back, his eyes alight with mischief. "Guilty as charged. But hey, at least I'm charmingly terrible."

As the song shifts to a more upbeat tempo, James takes advantage of the moment to unleash his dance moves. Except, instead of smooth and confident, his movements are more like a cross between a flailing Hippogriff and a clumsy first-year attempting a Transfiguration spell.

You can't help but burst into laughter at the sight of him, his arms flapping wildly and his feet stumbling over each other. "Merlin's beard, James! Are you trying to hex the dance floor or something?"

He shoots you a mock offended look, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oi, watch it! I'll have you know, I'm a dance prodigy in the making."

You raise an eyebrow, unable to contain your grin. "Prodigy? More like a disaster waiting to happen."

Undeterred, James continues to dance with reckless abandon, his movements becoming increasingly exaggerated with each passing moment. He spins and twirls, his limbs flying in all directions as if controlled by an unseen force.

"Alright, alright, I admit it," he says between gasps for breath, his cheeks flushed with exertion. "Maybe I'm not the next Fred Astaire, but at least I'm having fun. And getting to see that pretty smile of yours is worth making a fool of myself."

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through you at James's words, his sincerity cutting through the playful banter. Despite his less-than-graceful moves, there's an endearing charm to his earnestness that you can't help but admire.

"Well, in that case," you say with a teasing grin, "I suppose I can forgive your questionable dancing skills."

James grins back, his eyes shining with amusement. "Gee, thanks. I'll try not to let it go to my head."

As the music continues to pulse around you, you find yourself caught up in the moment, dancing with James in a whirlwind of laughter and joy. Together, you move in sync, your steps perfectly imperfect as you twirl and sway to the rhythm of the music.

Just as you're both getting into the swing of things, James's exuberant movements nearly send him crashing into an elderly witch who's been watching the dance floor with a bemused expression. You gasp, reaching out instinctively to steady her, but James, ever the smooth talker, beats you to it.

"Whoa there, almost lost my footing!" James exclaims, flashing the woman his most charming smile. "But don't worry, I'm as steady as a Hippogriff on a broomstick."

The elderly witch chuckles, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, steady or not, you certainly know how to liven up a party, young man."

James grins, his charm dial turned up to maximum. "Why, thank you, ma'am. It's all in a day's work for a dashing wizard like myself."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his shameless flattery, but the elderly witch seems thoroughly charmed, her laughter filling the air as James regales her with tales of his misadventures on the dance floor.

After a few minutes of chatting, you gently suggest that perhaps it's best to continue the conversation off the dance floor to avoid any more accidents. The elderly witch nods in agreement, bidding James farewell with a fond pat on the arm.

As you lead James away, the two of you share a knowing grin. "Smooth move, Potter," you tease, nudging him playfully.

James chuckles as he throws an arm over your shoulders. "What can I say? Charming old witches is just one of my many talents."

You shake your head in mock exasperation, but there's a warmth spreading through you at the easy camaraderie between you. Despite the chaos of the evening, being with James feels surprisingly natural, as if you were hanging out with an old friend rather than just an aquaintance.

At the bar, James orders a couple of drinks, and you find a quiet corner to settle into. The soft glow of the fairy lights creates an intimate atmosphere, and as you sip your drink, you find yourself relaxing in his company.

"So," James begins, leaning back in his chair with a playful glint in his eyes, "tell me something interesting about yourself that I wouldn't know from our Hogwarts days."

You ponder for a moment, swirling the liquid in your glass thoughtfully. "Well, I've developed quite the talent for baking since leaving school. There's something therapeutic about kneading dough and watching it rise."

James raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Is that so? I'll have to enlist you as my personal pastry chef sometime."

You laugh, nudging him playfully. "Don't get your hopes up. My baking skills might be up to par with your dancing."

James chuckles. "Well, I guess that means we'll have to stick to takeout for our first date then."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, Potter?"

James leans in, his grin widening. "Consider it a formal invitation. How about dinner at that new Italian place in Diagon Alley tomorrow? I hear they have the best tiramisu."

You pretend to mull it over, though your heart is already racing with excitement. "Hmm, Italian food and dessert? Sounds tempting. I suppose I could pencil you into my busy schedule."

James feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "Penciled in? I demand top priority, thank you very much."

You laugh, the warmth of his playful banter melting away any lingering reservations. "Alright, you win. Dinner it is."

"Excellent," James says with a satisfied grin. "I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation at the prospect of spending more time with him. "Seven it is. I'll be ready."

As you both finish your drinks, James suddenly feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see the elderly witch from earlier, a twinkle in her eye.

"Excuse me, young man," she says with a smile, "but would you care to dance with an old lady like me?"

James's grin widens at the unexpected invitation. "Of course, I'd be honored!"

He shoots you an apologetic look before following the woman onto the dance floor, leaving you chuckling at his eagerness. Watching James twirl the elderly witch with surprising grace, you can't help but feel a fondness for him grow.

As you observe them dance, you realize just how lucky you are to have him by your side tonight. Despite the chaos of the wedding and the presence of your ex, James has managed to turn what could have been a disastrous evening into one filled with laughter and joy.

After a few minutes, James returns to your side with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. Couldn't resist the opportunity to show off my moves to a new audience."

You laugh, shaking your head in amusement. "No need to apologize. You’re quite the hit out there."

James beams at the compliment, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, I aim to please."

As you both make your way towards the exit and he bids you farewell with a cheesy kiss on your hand, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Tomorrow's date with James suddenly feels like the highlight of your week, and you can't wait to see where this newfound connection will take you.

James Taglist - @urmomsgirlfriend1 @remussbitch @starsval @whoknowsbut @gayforyelena @marauderswhxre @ravenclawprincess33 @helpimhopelesslyinlove @Yhiiil @themarauderswife7 @ihatemyexs @starsval @bath1lda @Allshitsangiggles @mildly-delulu @vcosette @rinalouu @agent-tempest @S0urw00lf @pinkestfloyd @l0v3do11 @Unstablereader @wolfstar-marvelsfan @captainstanksblog @pinktreee @ceehance @andrew-and-flower @cas-planet @csmt_m @poppysrin @camille-1019 @Laniirackssss @bshwrites @slytherinambitious @notyaslol @txzii @yourenogoodforme @starzioo @darkenwolfie @bunnyweasley23

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[finsplurtz]

addicted — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku Midoriya

— contents : dom!bottom ! izuku maybe.. non-con/rape , blowjobs as friends , some public play , you’re both virgins , use of his quirk , bondage

warnings : rape/non-con

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Deku never thought about sex, he found it like ehhh

he was always focused on improving his quirk and stuff he never really thought about it, he didn’t masterbate often either cause he never had time and it never really interested him

you were a close friend of his, it was always you ochaco lida and izuku. He always praised you and admired you as a friend, always found you to be his safe place.

so when he accidentally walked in on you jacking ur shit he freaked out. He was thinking about how he ruined yalls friendship and stuff

you didn’t continue obviously…though you were close to ejaculating you just couldn’t continue, you told him to come in and he awkwardly walked in with his face red.

“I’m so sorry yn..! I didn’t mean to— I should’ve knocked I’m so sosososososososo sorry!!” he was a cute babbling mess, you laughed nervously and told him not to worry about it and that accidents happen.

“don’t worry izuku! I know you didn’t mean to ya know…it’s fine we’re guys this is like- normal so no need to be awkward” you smile at him and he nods his head before apologizing once more.

“…..doesn’t it hurt..?” he shyly pointed at your crotch and you let out a nervous chuckle.

“well……..don’t worry I’ll just take care of it later” you scratched the back of your neck while izuku just nodded and looked around anxiously.

“…I’m sorry I can’t help but think that you didn’t get to.. you know…! I w..wanna help in some way..? i just feel bad yn” he whined and blushed looking off to the side.

you just stared at his adorable face feeling your dick twitch in your pants.

“well I guess if you..want to, you can…..” he tensed up and stiffly walked over to your bed and sat down in front of you.

he looked you in the eyes waiting for you to give him orders. you looked off to the side for a second and back. “…do you know how to..”

“N-no..I don’t” he blushed embarrassed.

“I’d hope not.. just uhm how do you touch yourself? it’s like that but on another person” izuku was thinking about blowing you really but…….. makes sense

“I don’t touch myself” he said. you held In a laugh but grabbed his hand and placed it on your thigh.

“….im just helping a friend it’s fine..” he mumbled to himself.

“izuk.. u don’t have to yk I can kinda just do it by myself” he insisted and took you out of your pants making you gasp.

He’s never done this before, he loves helping people that’s why he was doing this…..and cause he was curious, it’d been a while since he touched himself and just wanted to.. explore

he stuck his tongue out and put you in his mouth, you let out a deep breath and stiffened feeling his hot mouth work on your dick.

this all happened too fast- I mean anybody with common sense would NEVER offer to blow their friend just cause they accidental interrupted them………that’s gay

but izuku’s just…overly kind or something, you’ll just let him do whatever he wants. Only a crazy person would turn a blowjob down anyway

you started to let out small moans and gently grab on izuku’s soft green locks. He started to really get into it….taking you down his throat and swallowing around you.

“fuuuck..~ I’m gonna…fucking c..NGH—!” you’re eyes rolled back feeling the cum rip out of your cock and into midoriya’s mouth, your chest raised and lowered rapidly trying to catch your breath.

“haa….shh..it..” you combed your finger thru your friends hair as he slowly got off and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

you just stared at him and smiled.

“th..thank you i-zuku..” you felt dizzy and he just smiled happily.

“a..anytime yn..” he said his goodbyes and left you alone in your room staring into the void. what. just happened.

izuku started to spend more time alone in his room after that, you guys weren’t thattt awkward but there was a little tension between you guys. it didn’t happen just once though, he had walked in on you accidentally again and apologized like it was the first time. then he’d offer to help.

it started to become a regular thing you guys did, nothing more than a blowjob. you would offer to please him in return but he always turned it down so…

he liked how he made you feel. it made him feel funny but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it was like an addiction. it started to happen OUTSIDE of your room…..

he went to use the bathroom and you were coincidentally there and next thing ya know, he blew you in one of the stalls. it scared you because you didn’t want to get caught.. but you didn’t say anything.

he had become more touchy, always touching you in some way, your hand, arm, thigh, legs just- he had to be touching you.

he was becoming like a…sex demon, he couldn’t stop wanting to touch you. addict to dick….

one night he was in your room again you stopped him.

“sorry- izuku I just… this is weird why are we…” you watched as his face saddened a bit…..he looks so cute:(

“am I not good at it…?”

“nono izuku! You’re great at it— it’s just like what if we get caught…?”

“oh…then we’ll just have to be more quiet! we won’t get caught that way..” he crawled closer to you and placed his palm on your crotch.

“I-i know but- ugh..~” you couldn’t say anything else as you got lost in the pleasure.

this time while he was blowing you he made eye contact with you, he looked at you with his big glossy green eyes. He’d moan around your length sending vibrations that drove you crazy. what you hadn’t noticed was how he’d finger himself while blowing you, he was stretching himself….for what

when you did notice it though, it didn’t leave your mind. Surely he won’t want to fuck right..? no that can’t happen. you have to make sure of it. you can blow him and everything but- you can’t lose your virginity to this kid and he can’t lose his to you.

“Hey midoriya, ya know this is as far as we can go…right?” you looked at him and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. he hesitated to answer.

“We can’t do anymore than a handy or a blowjob. so don’t…get any funny ideas”

.

.

.

“mh” he smiled and said his goodbye and left. after that he visited…less. like the addiction just left, just like that. He didn’t offer anything but he was still touchy with you. this was fine, you could tell he was looking for something else, it was good to break things off.

after a couple weeks of no nightly visits, he suddenly knocks on ur door. you let him come in and he starts talking about whatever. how his day was, how his training was going, all that normal stuff.

“izuku do you want something from me” you interrupted him mid sentence. he tilts his head pretending to be confused, he tries to say something but he can’t.

“what is it. do you want me to touch you or what” he blushes and bites the inside of his cheek. “i just…can..i…..” he felt the embarrassment down his spine, he pointed at your crotch and then his mouth.

you sigh and grab his arm dragging him to your bed. You stand in front of him while he’s on his knees on the bed looking up at you like a lost puppy. you pet his head and pull your half hard dick out.

He’s practically drooling as he wraps his hands around your cock and pumps it slowly while giving it kitten licks.

He quickly stuffs you in his mouth earning slutty moans from you, he does this till you start getting closer and closer to releasing. you had your eyes closed so you failed to see his quirk blackwhip slowly creep out of him.

he didn’t take his eyes off you, he just stared while he blew you. you felt your body quickly getting bounded tightly together, you opened your eyes and izuku got off.

“wha…what are you doing izu..”

“‘m sorry yn..! I really really n-need this…~” he slipped his shorts off and straddled your lap, your dick at his entrance. you tried to fight against the restraints but obviously, didn’t work. he was blushing like crazy and shaking as he slowly lowered himself on your cock.

“s-stop—! stop it izu..aghn..~!” The wave of pleasure punched you in the face.

he was squatting on you like a rabbit, his hands on your abdomen and his back arched.

“haa..why’re you s..so tight..” your vision was blurry and you had already stopped trying to escape, it was no use. you’ve never been inside someone, you knew it would feel great but this…felt so much fucking better than you thought.

“d-don’t worry yn..I’ll milk your cock and it’ll feel great…~” he smiled pathetically as he lifted himself up and slammed himself back down, your cock hitting his prostate. He gasped loudly and arched his back oh so beautiful, tightening even more around you.

“Sh..shit izu..! you’re soo..hmnn~” you whined feeling your dick throb in him. he began at a fast and rough pace, bouncing on your dick.

“ugh- mm..~ so big yn…~! you feel so g-good..~” he’s moaning loudly while you just watch him fuck himself on your cock. you’re panting and feel as if you’re about to pass out and he still looks as cute as ever forcefully taking your virginity. you flush red and let out a small whimper.

“W-we’re still..close f..friends, right yn-y..” he leans down so he’s closer to your face.

“mm..” you’re too confused and lost in pleasure to respond properly. izuku smiles and gives you a small peck on the lips before sitting back up.

“I hope I can use your cock whenever I please yn..~” he roughly sat all the way down on your dick, his eyes rolled back and his tongue lolled out. a slutty moan ripped from his throat, your dick was deep in his gushy insides.

he tightened around you and you whined once more finally cumming deep inside him.

“haa..uhn~” your body was tired, you just kept watching him. What was he gonna do next. He slowly lifted himself and you watched your own nut drip out of him.

“hm…th..thank you yn..” he looked you in the eyes with such seductive eyes before he went limp and fell beside you on your bed, his quirk disappearing.

you shakily got up and went to clean yourself up, you cleaned your friend up as well and got back in bed.

you finally looked at izuku’s sleeping face and let out a small sigh.

though you wish he would’ve asked for consent, you’re kinda glad that virginity shit was over with. you’re confused is all.

you gently wrapped your arms around the smaller boy and pull him closer for warmth.

that morning you woke up with midoriya on your chest, his face hiding in the crook of your neck.

“izuk— ugh~!” you gasp realizing you were inside him again.

“let’s stay…like this..” he said tiredly kissing your neck before probably passing out… he was like addicted to this.

why can’t you say no to him.

a/n; what are y’all’s thoughts on izuku w/ the low taper fade

[thinkingotherwise]

hey darling, can i request hayato, sugishita, sakura, umemiya and whoever else you want with a reader who is obviously in love with them and thinks it's subtle about it but doesn't?

if you do then: thanks love, you're great!

Requested by: anon hihi! i got addicted to your works because it's just so good, keep it up! Also if you're taking request, can i req about wind breaker boys and with their crush who's sweet and kind but is also dumb & stupid when it comes to romance:3? Feel free to ignore this! Also don't overwork yourself and make sure to take a good rest ! ! Love your works <3

The two requests are very similar so I joined them and we ended up with reader who's not so subtle about their crush, and the said crush likes them back, they just can't help having feelings for their kinda stupid but sweet reader.

Hayato Suou, Kyotaro Sugishita, Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Toma Hiiragi, Choji Tomiyama x Not-so-subtle! reader

Hayato Suou

He knew from the beginning, even before you realized you had a crush on him. He was very observant and just looking at you seemed enough for him to know.

He noticed how you focused purely on him whenever the two of you were in the same room. Your gaze on him, your ears listening to each word he said, and your mind remembering all the little details he mentioned. You were always paying attention to the words falling out of his mouth. When someone would then try to remember and you recalled them in an instant, everyone was surprised. Especially, if you memorized seemingly unnecessary comments that he brought up.

Suou played with you, teasing you about the favouritism you showed towards him. Saying how it was so easy to see, almost as if you had feelings for him. It seemed like you weren't as subtle as you thought and when you became flustered denying that and saying that you just had a good memory.

At your words, he asked you to recall what Sakura stated. It didn't help that you couldn't remember a thing even if it was not a full ten minutes, making Suou grin as his previous statement just got confirmed.

Kyotaro Sugishita

He was very oblivious to the not-so-subtle ways you showed your interest in him. You were seeking this presence in any way you could think of.

You were standing close to him anytime you could, basking in his calm and safe aura. Sometimes you would grab his uniform and he wouldn't notice until he tried to walk away but he was stopped by tugging from your hand, other times you were following after him whenever he was patrolling town.

Honestly, he wouldn't even notice it, if it weren't for him bumping into you, because you stood too close to him a little too often. Sugishita was confused about why you were always near him, thinking you had something to ask him, he would look at you waiting for you to start talking and you would look at him in admiration, your thoughts only on him, how he was looking at you, and how his eyes were pretty and hair silky, and OMG he was so close to you.

The others would observe Sugishita and you in interest, betting on who would be the first to notice the feelings you shared. Shared, as you thought, in secret only from the both of you.

Haruka Sakura

You were trying to be subtle with your admiration toward Sakura but with time passing it was so obvious. You showed favouritism to him almost daily.

You tried to gather any info you could about his likes and dislikes, even grilling Nirei and his little notebook for any information he had on the boy. Then you made him swear to never tell anyone, but your feelings were never a secret when you were so open about them. You attempted to keep them hidden and when you were buying some snacks you bought not only his favourites but also some other things for your friends.

Sakura eventually noticed that you bought his favourites, especially during times when someone tried to grab the things meant for him, you would quickly grab them and shove them in his direction.

He started getting your most-liked snacks, trying to communicate with you, that way. He hoped you'd notice he was also interested, but as you didn't initiate any private talk with him about it, he started asking himself if he should be the first one to ask you out, because you clearly didn't realize he felt the same as you.

Hajime Umemiya

He was so dense, that everyone knew you liked him instead of him. He thought you were just admiring him as a friend, a leader, trying to get as much from him as you could.

Really the man would see you looking at him in a daze, getting lost in his pretty eyes, your thoughts making up scenarios where he would be your boyfriend, and he would just tilt his head and ask if you wanted to ask some questions about the stuff he just shared.

Umemiya was really clueless, but thankfully his sister noticed your loving gaze and you getting lost in thoughts. It came to Kotoha helping him, or more like getting it into his head that you did have feelings for him and all your adoration was not platonic.

The next time he noticed you with your head in the clouds as you observed him he smiled softly and stepped closer. You didn't realize he was so close until you felt him blowing on your ear as he leaned over. You jumped back in surprise as he laughed joyfully at your reaction. You thought he was just teasing you, not noticing the soft gaze he directed toward you.

Toma Hiiragi

Your attempts of showing interest to him were not so quickly spotted. He thought you being nervous around him was normal, maybe because you needed to get used to new people, or you just didn't like to talk with others, but when he noticed how different you were with others, he believed maybe you were scared of him.

Hiiragi tried everything he could to ease your nerves and convince you that he wasn't all that bad. Unfortunately, as much as he attempted it never worked, after encountering his soft and protective side you became flustered and fidgeted even more when he was in your view. And then something clicked in his mind and that was the moment he knew your feelings were actually very different than what he thought.

After that, he made several attempts to approach you, always trying to be careful and not to startle you, just slowly showing more and more interest in you. He started hesitating if he should tell you about the feelings he shared for you or let you figure it out on your own.

Choji Tomiyama

He was oblivious to your feelings, his mind focused only on the fact that you were willing to spend every minute with him. You loved being by him, seeing him have fun and playing around. It was so refreshing and somehow helped you relax. His smile was just enough to make your day.

At any time Tomiyama asked if you wanted to join him, you would immediately agree. Following him and his shocking, occasionally strange, adventures. Sometimes his friends would join, others you would take the opportunity to spend time alone with the happy-go-lucky boy.

His smile never failed to instantly bring a grin to your face, making you laugh cheerfully.

Tags: @misticbullet