#also the drawings are supposed to be sloppy i will give more attention to the individual characters later

[bumblerhizal-art]

First draft designs for my Orlesian Wardens + Mahariel

Caron is a battlemage who was born the child of two Circle mages. He was raised in a Chantry orphanage until his own magical talents developed at a late age. He was then taken to the Montsimmard Circle where he studied until Grey Wardens arrived looking for a recruit. Several mages volunteered to prove themselves to the visiting Wardens, but Caron was found most worthy of the mantle

Kader is an assassin and extremely prone to sunburn. She's supersitious and wears a painted nazar on each of her pauldrons and several talismans that i will find better rune designs for than just random squiggles. She was traveling as part of a surfacer merchant caravan for most of her life until darkspawn attacked their family wagons. During the scuffle, she and another dwarf were infected with the Taint. A traveling Senior Warden who joined the battle offered to them the Joining ritual, but only Kader survived

Andras is a duelist from Halamshiral and the fifth of six children. His prospects weren’t great, so at age 19, when the Warden-Commander came through Halamshiral, he devised a plot to steal WC’s sword to grab their interest. Miraculously, it worked without a negative consequence. WC took the prank in stride and extended an invitation to join the Grey Wardens which, obviously, was accepted

Mahariel is the only of the Companion-ified Origins to become a Warden outside the HoF Tabris. Their Origin takes place shortly after the conclusion of Nature of the Beast, but they are not Joined until the time of the Landsmeet. The Taint had already coursed through their body for several months at that point, but with the Creators' favor and lots of medicinal tea, they somehow made it long enough to be rewarded with a place in the Order

[sweetiecutie]

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

playing excited & exhausted with them

ft: levi, erwin, bertholdt, jean, connie, annie, sasha, mikasa, eren

a/n: excited & exhausted is card game made for couples to play when they’re drinking. it is an explicit card game so this post is 18+. NSFW MDNI ! however, this does not go into details. it’s very light on the smut side, if you can even call it that. i’m not 100% comfortable writing full smut yet soo :) this request is for/from @ricebowl768 - also, this is not proofread :)

levi ackerman

it’s a pain to play this game with levi. he insists on doing all of the tasks on the card, resulting in you being the only drunk one. he says, “what’s the point of playing if i don’t do any of these?”

you tell him, it’s supposed to be fun and he doesn’t have to do any of the dares that he doesn’t want to. charmingly, he responds, “well, you’re my girlfriend. i want to do these things.”

erwin smith

he’s curious when you present him the deck. he didn’t think you’d be interested in something so explicit. honestly, he’s quiet shy about most of the cards. he gets a nice buzz going pretty fast, giving him the courage to do all these things.

the night ends up quite wholesome as you two share bursts of drunken giggles. you two wind up sweetly entangled in bed.

bertholdt hoover

you have to convince bert to play this game, given he’s on the shyer side. you both take two shots before playing just to ease any anxiety. the first card he draws reads, “drink if you want to have sex after this game.” his eyes widen and he downs another shot. he tries to hard the cards from you but you are dying to know, so you lunge across towards him and wrestle him for the card.

you laugh at his embarrassment when you read it outloud. you reassure him he doesn’t have anything to feel embarassed about by kissing him all over his red cheeks.

jean kirstein

jean thinks you’re the best girlfriend ever for buying this card game. he mainly teases you about drinking whenever you don’t want to do the action on the card. he calls you a few names just to rile you up. tired of his shit, you start doing everything on the cards just to prove a point. no matter how provocative or exposing they are, you do them. he both hates and loves you for this but he can’t wait for the game to be over.

connie springer

he’s enthusiastic about playing this game, he actually was the one who had picked it up at the store while you weren’t paying attention. he reveals it by slamming it down on the table and insists you two play. you both end up sloppy drunk for some reason despite doing everything on the card. honestly, it was just a good excuse to get sloppy drunk and be horny for each other.

annie leonhardt

she’s sort of…rough when you bring up the idea. annie’s a pretty shy, reserved person so when you present her with the game, she gives you a shrug. no wanting to press her boundaries, you forget about it.

she brings it up later on, on a random afternoon. she wants to deepen her bond with you, so she steps outside her comfort zone. she blushed at nearly every single card, choosing to consume a bunch of liquor.

she manages to hold herself together well, until she gives into her desires and chooses to do the sexual tasks on the cards. this side of her is refreshing. you keep telling her she doesn’t have to do anything, but she insists the liquor has given her courage to do these things she’s wanted to do all along.

sasha braus

sasha giggles at every single card! she barely takes anything seriously, especially when she’s drinking. she doesn’t quite understand the circumstances of the game until you draw all the promiscuous cards. she tries to keep a cool about tasks such as kissing her thighs. but since you know her so well, her gasps of surprise are considered more gasps of arousal. overall, she winds up enjoying the game.

mikasa ackerman

mikasa looks to please you, and only you as their partner. of course, this urge doesn’t dismiss her shyness. she starts off the game with a high confidence, dismissing with each card. she wants to do each, to please you but ultimately, she’s too embarassed. it winds up with her having a bunch of shots and it makes you laugh. you tell her, “baby, you don’t have to do anything, we can stop playing this game.”

she counters back, “i want to! it’s just so…vulgar? how do people do this sober?!”

it’s not that she’s a prude, but this game is impossible to play! that’s what she insists.

eren jaeger

this game was made for eren, or so he thinks. he‘ d play this game with anyone but for him, it’s a pleasure to play with you. he doesn’t shy away from any task, no matter how filthy it is. he enjoys teasing you and seeing you flustered. he wants you uncomfortable, in a consensual way of course. eren wants to take you further than you’ve ever been. both physically and mentally. he’s a menace, testing your limits until you’re begging for him!

[mylordshesacactus]

God though the fight choreography in Ahsoka really is next fucking level.

Like. Every so often I think fondly about the lightsaber duels in the OT because, bluntly, there weren't lightsaber duels in the OT. There were a handful of scenes in which two characters who didn't like each other much both happened to be holding lightsabers, and on some occasions they tapped the lightsabers together to make very satisfying noises. But we've now come far enough in the star war that we're getting detailed attention to genuine fighting styles, and fighting styles as character essays in themselves.

I just love it.

This show does SO MUCH characterization through physicality in combat; there's a whole meta-dialogue happening just through the portrayal of lightsaber forms and it has SO MUCH heavy lifting to do and does it WELL.

Like, for example, all the little character details that have to be PERFECT in the first two confrontations. I'm just gonna do the tower fight at the moment because the forest battle is its own whole thing and the wolfwren meetcute tower fight illustrates it just fine on its own.

Things that had to be established with little to no exposition in those two fights:

Sabine and Shin are pretty much equals, overall, in combat; BUT

Shin has her VASTLY outmatched as a duellist specifically, because she's been training in solely lightsaber combat more intensely and for longer; BUT

Shin doesn't KNOW that, because she's never fought Sabine before and all she knows is that she's facing an unfamiliar opponent who was Jedi-trained; AND

Sabine DOES know she's outmatched in this fight--she's unarmored, not a small deal for a Mandalorian, and armed only with a lightsaber that while she has trained with it pretty extensively she explicitly hasn't touched in years; BUT

Sabine is ALSO, separately, a highly skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand fighter even with the disadvantage of not being in armor. She's not a pushover or a flailing idiot.

Like it's obvious before Shin even draws that Sabine is not going to win this fight--and Sabine at least is visibly aware of it.

It's clear from their stances alone. Sabine stands and moves like a novice--not untrained, mind, but a novice. She's very cautious, very aware of her footwork, and while that's a good ready position it's extremely hesitant, she's not comfortable in it. She wastes more movement. Shin on the other hand is solid, confident, and grounded.

But not arrogant. Sabine is moving like someone with experience in combat, and Shin doesn't know her or her abilities, so she doesn't rush in at the first sign of weakness. Shin might be more immediately confident with saber combat, but she is also proceeding with extreme caution.

She lets Sabine come to her, ceding the first move in favor of giving herself a chance to read her opponent before committing to anything. And when they do start exchanging blows:

Don't get me wrong--Sabine is NOT a flailing idiot, for all this specific shot makes it look like she's leaving herself open. She's just....not fluid with her lightsaber. She drops her guard when she runs, because running with a plasma sword without burning yourself is actually extremely difficult and she's keeping that thing away from her body while moving at speed.

Her strikes are decent, but her technique is sloppy and she wastes movement--again, not in a way that suggests she doesn't know what she's doing, but in a way that highlights the gap between knowing what a technique is supposed to look like and actually being able to pull it off in a live-combat scenario.

Shin, meanwhile, is fluid, deliberate, efficient, fully in control of every movement--but, frankly, she mostly looks like an impressive threat in this fight because it's an apprentice-level skirmish between two evenly-matched opponents, and Sabine is at a stark disadvantage.

Don't get me wrong, Shin's doing very well--but in a way that highlights her main strength as being extremely solid on her fundamentals. None of these are high-level moves, almost all of them would show up in a youngling kata, and the few that wouldn't are mostly flair like this dramatic-ass battle pose.

We do see some signals that Shin's saber training is at a meaningfully higher level than Sabine's, though--she's had time to develop some of her own technique! I love the way she uses her cape as a combat asset; that's not something Baylan would have taught her, he doesn't have her highly-mobile fighting style (to put it lightly) and it feels just practical enough.

So they feel like viable rivals, Shin feels like a viable threat, and there's still a visceral awareness in the kind of choreography they're given that if Sabine fought Baylan, or Shin tried to 1v1 Ahsoka, they would not last ten goddamn seconds.

[chaniters]

Running out of lies

Found by Anathema, Cyrus has to face reality again, and it hurts. -----------------

“Leave me alone!” The words are hushed coming out of your mouth as you try to repack all of your supplies.

“Not until I get some answers”

“You’re drawing attention” you protest because there already are some looks turning your way. 

“Then calm down if that’s what bothers you. Also, let me carry that,” They say, taking hold of the easel you rescued from the garbage. 

“I don’t need help” 

“You’re limping, I have eyes”

You choose silence because you’re not in the mood to explain how you got grazed by a bullet on a sewer, saying nothing more as they walk with you for the next blocks heading towards the bus stop that is your only escape route. 

They don’t share in the silence.

“Out with it. What happened?” 

“There we go again.”

“I’m not gonna stop”

“Told you, I don’t want to talk about it” you reply almost immediately.  -------------

“Dr. Elderidge got her PharmaCore research back in an envelope under her door the day you banished. That’s the only clue I had that you were alive and I couldn’t tell the others. Do you realize they’re still looking for you? How worried they are?”

“Well, now you found me so they can stop. Besides, there’s no reason to be worried, not like I’m part of the team anyways. I’m just a nobody.”

“You’re not some nobody! What the fuck man?”

“I don’t need your help, or your concern, or whatever you’re trying to do! I’m gonna be an artist now, don’t you see??!” you make a point to tap the easel he’s carrying. “I just sell the shit I do and buy stuff with it. Like everyone else does” 

That gives them some pause. Enough for you to snatch the easel from them and start walking away. Not that it stops them from following after the initial shock.

“You’re going to quit?! Why?” 

“None of your business. The only reason I haven’t returned the suit is that I’m trying to wash it myself. Once I get the sewer stench from it, I’ll return i’ll mail it to your HQ” 

“What happened down there?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Would it kill you to just talk to me? You’re not making sense, you did everything you could to be a hero and now you’re throwing it all away? There has to be a reason… and what’s up with that scarf? It’s a million degrees out here!”

“Leave the scarf alon-...”

But their hands are already grabbing for it. 

It’s not like the move’s not telegraphed in your mind, but you have your hands full and you’re not fast enough to avoid them as they snatch it off your neck. 

“This thing is … Fuck! Cyrus what happened?!” 

“Please put that back on?” you beg. “I didn’t want anyone to see.” 

They just stand there holding the scarf, staring at them—clear-as-day bruises and marks on your throat, where Husk tried to strangle you. Thankfully then the scarf goes back on, gently, their hands treating you as if you were suddenly made of glass. 

“Thank you.” 

They give you an evaluating look, their mind quickly putting together the pieces of the puzzle. You avoid the prying eyes and take off, but again you are followed.

“The fuck… Are you ok?” 

“Course I am. It’s nothing.” You try to dismiss the marks they saw, but their mind clenches around them, far too tight for the kind of telepathy you’re capable of in this state. 

Shit.  

“What did Husk do to you?…” you can feel the anger mounting on them, directed at whoever did this to you. 

“I don’t want to talk about that!” you yell, far louder than you intended.

“... then why are you tearing up?” 

SHITSHITSHIT

“I’m not! Stop asking questions! You’re seeing things. I’m fine.  Never been better! Now go away!” 

You add suggestions to your words, but your current telepathy would fail the most basic examinations back at the farm. Sloppy, emotional, obvious lies won’t cut it against someone so determined.

They sigh in frustration, following you, trying to understand. Not something you can help them with. Tears? Since when are you so fucking weak? 

You’re not supposed to cry, least of all with other people around.

“Stop running!”

“I’m not running!” You lie. 

What else can you do? 

Husk just wanted to kill you. They never meant to shatter your vision of the world. No, you’re the one who did it all by yourself, getting into their mind uninvited. 

How do you explain that now you know things you wish you didn’t and nothing makes sense? Like how you still feel serving the goals of the Special Directive is the “right” thing to do, but you can’t deny knowing how vile it truly is? 

Husk opened your eyes to the horrors humans are capable of and there is no closing that door now.    

“Does the painting gig help?” Themmie asks understanding too much without even knowing you.  

“Why do you care?” you ask bitterly because it’s too true.

“Because you almost die trying to help me and Ferra, you idiot!” they say, hand on your shoulder, looking into your eyes. “It’s my fault. I know what Husk does to people!”  Again you look away, unable to hold their gaze, just as you don’t understand the emotions inside their mind right now. 

Guilt? Remorse? 

Humans are too darn complicated, and you don’t know why but Themmie feeling bad because of your last telepathic screwup with Husk just feels wrong. 

“Hey, I’m telling you…It’s nothing. I mean… I get the files or not? That’s all that matters. I swear I’m fine. I mean.. I’ll be fine.” you try to reassure them. 

And again you fail. The gesture makes them feel even worse. 

You’re the one hurt, they should be the ones trying to make you feel better, not the other way around. That’s how Themmie sees it at least. 

It’s painful… how they think this is all their fault. Blaming it all on himself just as…

Just as you do. 

 “Sides, I swear I’m going to hunt that Husk down, and when I find them…”

“No! Husk’s not going to bother anyone else ever again!” you spit out, wishing you had bit your tongue immediately afterward. 

“What?”

Shit. You hate being this weak. 

Themmie’s concern is wearing you down, but would it be so bad to say something?

 “... fine. Alright, Fuck it. I’ll tell you what happened. Some of it at least” 

“Let’s keep walking while we talk. That helps sometimes,” they say, knowing you more than they should once again. 

The traffic light changes and you cross, thinking about how to start. 

Should you lie?

But what kind of lie would that be? You don’t even know which way it should point.

No, no lies. Just the truth, at least what you can give them. 

“It’s simple. I thought I could go and fight Husk alone, and they were getting away while you were busy with the police and Carter”

“We told you how dangerous they are!”

“You think I don’t know that now?!” Your voice grows louder than you wished for.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t interrupt you. Go on please”

“If you let me” you grumble, annoyed. “We fought. They mopped the floor with me and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“That’s fine. That’s totally fine. You don’t need to go into details.” 

“You saw some of the details.” you rub the scarf around your throat. “Promise me you won’t tell”

“I promise I won’t.” And it’s not a lie. Not one you can feel. 

“Thanks. Things got uh… less than ideal… and uh… some people showed up.”

“People? What people?”

“Other people. People Husk pissed off” You can’t tell them it’s the special directive because no one is supposed to know that. Looks like once again you’re helping them hide their secrets. “So they were distracted and I took the chance to get the hell out of there”

“And then…?”

“There were gunshots. I lost track of Husk’s mind after that.”

“Dead?”

“They were definitely not firing blanks” you bite your lip. “I started running and I got lost in the tunnels… It was hard to breathe, it was dark, It smelled like shit… and I couldn’t see where I was going, and … and… and…”

And Husk’s memories took too darn long to banish. You can never retain anything, but of all things, this shit got stuck in your brain. Everything they ever told you became a lie, and you wanted to forget.

The words die and you cover your face. You don’t want Themmie to see you tearing up again 

But they step forward, wrapping their arms around you in one big hug. 

“It’s ok. You’re ok now. It’s over”

You can’t remember ever feeling this weak and useless in your life.  Regenes are not made for this. Definitely malfunctioning.  Not supposed to be crying on someone else’s shoulder.

It can’t be real. It can’t be happening to you. You want to push them away and break free, show them it’s nothing at all. But you can’t fucking stop crying anymore. Mourning the lies you told yourself. That they always knew better. That they had a great plan for all of you. That you had a purpose.

The lies that kept your world glued together, even after you escaped. 

“It’s going to be alright. I’m here for you,” They say. 

How could it be alright, when everything is falling apart?

--------------------- My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero world. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for his wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[cursesavior]

✉ @chaoslulled said: A birthday party hat strap digs into his skin, but his smile is wide, noise maker half hanging out between smiling teeth. Mimiko and Nanako are standing on either side of him, birthday cake on display on the table in front of them. Suguru's name is sloppily written, and little blobs that resemble cats are drawn across it as well. "Happy birthday, come blow out your candles!"

Suguru was never the type to pay much mind to his birthday. He'd always been taught to stay humble, to not draw too much attention to himself or ask anything of others, regardless of what day it was - so, he hadn't properly celebrated it since his defection. The knowledge that it's his birthday vaguely hovers in the back of his mind as he goes about his day as usual, and by the time he's back from shopping he's nearly forgotten it entirely, expecting nothing as he opens the door to his home, slipping his shoes off and making his way inside. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, and he wonders if Satoru's cravings had gotten the better of him again and he'd brought dessert home -- his question is answered before he can even ask as he enters the dining room, nearly startled by the sudden cheers and the sound of noise-makers blowing, eyes going wide at the sight before him.

He can tell from the adorably sloppy frosting that the cake must me homemade, with his name and the cat-like blobs of icing sitting beneath the soft glow of lit candles - and, even better, there's the people standing behind it. Mimiko, Nanako, his precious daughters, and right in between them is Satoru, looking absolutely ridiculous with the brightly colored party hat and noise-maker hanging out of his mouth, but also looking like he was right where he belonged. Warmth fills his heart where he had once felt so cold and empty - this was his family, whole at last. How could he ever long for more? This mattered more to him than anything. He loves each of them so much, and with the way they all beam at him, having waited for his return, he can feel that they love him just as much. He wonders if they made this cake for him together, imagines Satoru trying to instruct the girls, the mess and the mistakes and the laughter - it makes him happier than anything else, to see them all getting along so well.

"You didn't have to do all of this for me, you know..." He gives a light laugh, setting down the plastic bags he'd been carrying on the counter as he makes his way over to them, blinking back the joyous tears that threatened at the backs of his eyes. Coming up behind them, he gives each of his girls a kiss on the cheek, before he wraps an arm around Satoru's waist, pulling him snug against his side as he plants his lips softly against his, his own way of giving thanks. "Twenty-seven already, huh? Ha, I'm starting to feel old..." He chuckles, just watching the flames dance in front of them for a moment. It's a bit of a strange feeling, to nearly be thirty now - for a long time, he hadn't been sure of how long he'd live. Whether it be due to the dangerous missions he used to constantly be sent on or the bounty Jujutsu society had put on his head after his defection, his future had always seemed to be on thin ice, nothing set in stone, even with his strength. So to have gotten this far... It feels weird, but good. Satisfying, even. Satisfied that this was how his life was turning out, grateful he'd lived long enough to experience this moment.

"I suppose I should make a wish, huh?" He muses, thinking for a moment before he finally leans down, managing to blow out all of the candles in a single breath. As silly and pointless as it is, he does make a silent wish as he watches the flames flicker and die out - it's not for anything grand, really. Everything felt so perfect right now - he just wishes things could stay this way forever, wishes they'd stay a family and nothing would force them apart again. That's all he could ever want, right? For his loved ones to be safe and happy, and to be able to be right by their sides to witness their joy. "There we go~ It must have been torture, having to wait to eat this. Will one of you girls get me something to cut the cake with?"

Mimiko and Nanako both insist on being the one to grab it, the two rushing off to the kitchen in a race to be the first, and in the brief moment they're alone together Suguru plucks the noise-maker from his lips, making room for him to kiss him properly this time, indulging in the slow, gentle push of Satoru's lips against his. He smiles at him again as he pulls away, expression all warmth and fondness. "You're so sweet to me, Satoru..." He purrs, allowing one hand to reach up to hold his face, thumb caressing his cheek affectionately. "Thank you, my love. It's perfect, all of it."

[blzzrdstryr]

Untitled Capitano x gn!reader [NSFW]

CW: Noncon/dubcom, coercion, reader is a monterfucker and Capitano is a monster, scratching and biting, humiliation

A/N: I don't think it's very yandere or can be considered yandere, but I'll tag it just to be safe. PWP

Surviving Fatui Harbinger requires some compromise. Usually with your own pride and dignity.

It’s not that you are a blushing virgin, who's never taken a cock before - you have, eagerly and enthusiastically, all sloppy kisses and drunken giggles. But there’s a difference between taking a stranger to bed, tipsy and hot after a couple of shots and flirting, and being forced to do so repeatedly, threatened by the very Capitano with what will happen to you and your compatriots once the word of your very anti-Tsaritsa conspiracy goes out.

Capitano, the bastard that he is, of course knows how much you hate this arrangement, and so he does his best to prolong it - he doesn’t take you right there and then, pinned against the wall in the dark alley he managed to catch you this time, no, Capitano, this bastard and monster, takes you to the hotel, expensive yet discreet enough, so no one there pays attention to you or your bruised, disheveled state.

Capitano leads you to the room, spacious and nicely decorated, with an obscenely big bed at the very center, when your knees give out under the stress and sheer exhaustion. It doesn’t stop the Harbinger from throwing you on the bed, though, and attacking your neck right as you land on the soft surface and you close your eyes.

He doesn’t remove the helmet, yet you still feel it - his tongue, too long and too scratchy to belong to a human - despite many contacts of more intimate nature you had with a fatui you never saw his face, or what is supposed to be it. Your mind eagerly supplies vivid images of monstrous atrocity and you cringe at yourself, feeling how much hotter you start to feel at the mere thoughts of it.

“My, my, you’re so excited already”, he drawls, his impossible long tongue retreating somewhere back to his head, as his fingers - big, with sharp talons on the end start to wander on your skin.

“Don’t slice it, you fucker”, you hiss, sensing how his hands scratch at your skin and clothes, at which he simply hums  - Capitano likes to leave his marks, you think it’s his way of showing his conquest. And then you feel and hear it - the sound of the ripping fabric and his claws drawing you blood.

“I didn’t slice it” Capitano answers your scream of indignation, before he starts to bite your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the bleeding mark of his teeth - also too big and sharp to belong to a human. You shiver at the thought of what might be above you, and are tempted to open your eyes, to gaze at this thing that has tormented you for so long, yet you find yourself powerless to move even a single muscle, rendered to such helpless state by both lust and fear, thick and primal.

You don’t know how much the foreplay lasts - the feel of his hands and tongue are usually enough to pin you in the moment, keep still you for however long he wants, as he leaves more and more of his presence onto your body, as you melt and fall at the same time, caught between mind-numbing pleasure and absolute dread.

He pushes his cock into you as he always does - painlessly, yet unexpectedly. The first time it happened, when he took you on your four scared shitless and hyperventilating, you thought that a man of his size will surely rip you in two. You expected a stinging agony and blood, lots of blood, yet none of it came. His dick - similarly unhuman in feeling -  filled you out, rearranged your guts, made you forget how to think and breathe, yet it didn’t rip you, didn’t hurt you. Maybe it was a part of his unhuman nature, maybe his skills in bed, you don’t know. nor do you care.

What you care about is his rhythm, slow and almost gentle, even his hands - so big, so strong - handle you too carefully for your liking. “Don’t you dare do this now”, you hiss at him, forgetting your fear and rocking your hips against him, as he hums, surely drinking in the sight of your impatience. 

“My little whore is needy, hm?”, he asks and your cheeks burn at that, at how dare he call you that, yet you have no time to voice out the complaint. He picks up the pace, rough and fast, and you are stripped of ability to think, incoherent moans and whimpers escaping past your lips. He half moans, half groans too, muttering something about being a good little whore for him, how slutty you look and feel, how heavenly it is to be inside you. You don’t really listen, your eyes opening at a particularly hard thrust - the caution, the fear - it all melted away under his movements.

And you scream.

The thing you see is enough to drive you overboard and you orgasm, harder than ever in your life, face contorted with pleasure and dread.

And then you black out.

The next day greets you with a dim sunlight breaking through the window and someone insistently knocking on the door.

“Come”, you say, without really thinking, your body is sore and aching in that delicious way after an intense night, as you take in the surroundings once more. No Capitano in sight. In the daylight, a previously expensive room seems gaudy and overstuffed, you almost close your eyes again and go back to sleep, when a not so small detail catches your eyes.

The note, attached to the purse so full that it looks indecent, written by the hand you know: “This is for your clothes, and the pleasant night. - C”.

Fuck, what will you do about your clothes?

[fett-djarin]

Stress Relief

Here it is! This is entirely self indulgent and filthy! Im a wh*re for the croissant guards

Also I headcanon Fox looking like how amikoroyoaiart draws him. her art is so good!

Commander Fox x f!reader

Crossposted on ao3

Rating: 18+

Length: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Oral (m receiving), that good sloppy toppy, office sex, cursing, light grinding, making out

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Bringing the Guard their morning caf had become a tradition, of sorts. You knew the caf in the mess wasn’t good--in fact, it was barely even palatable. When you first started as a new secretary, it had been your timid way of offering friendship to the imposing troopers who worked so hard to keep the planet safe. They warmed to you quickly. Thire was the first to remove his helmet in front of you, plonking it down on your desk and taking a long pull of caf barely a second after you handed it to him. At your stunned look, he had just raised a brow and said, “Long patrol last night,” with a shrug.

As the others had become more comfortable with you, you had seen most of them without their buckets at some point--except for Fox. He always took his caf with a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” and retreated to his office. You knew it was against regulation for them to remove their helmets while they were on duty. But even when you dropped off the caf in his office, he was at his desk with his helmet on.

“He keeps it on so you can’t tell if he’s actually asleep,” Thorn told you one day. “I suspect he even does it while we’re standing guard sometimes.” You laughed aloud at that. The serious Commander Fox, asleep standing up. He was right though, you never would be able to tell.

The first time Fox removed his helmet in front of you, you hadn’t expected the gray dusting his temples, but honestly you weren’t surprised. The poor man was stressed beyond belief and worked half to death. You were more surprised that he finally did it in the first place. Fox sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls, before taking the caf and giving you a tired smile. He thanked you by name that time. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

From then on, he had been without it more when you went into his office. You even caught him sleeping once--head resting on his folded arms, bucket set next to him--and had done your best to deliver the caf without waking him. Maker knew he needed the sleep more than he needed hot caf--if Thorn hadn’t told you he snuck naps with the helmet on, you would think he ran off caf and stubborn will alone.

One morning, after you had passed out caf to the others--and a little cup of whipped cream for Grizzer--Fox hadn’t made an appearance, so you made your way to his office to drop it off. You knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his gruff voice called, and the door slid aside. You smiled at him, noting the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing it was just you. You set the cup down on his desk. You had just turned when a touch on your wrist stopped you.

Fox was looking up at you, helmet cocked to the side. “You know you don’t have to bring us caf every time you work, right? The boys better not be nagging you for it.”

“I know,” you said. “I enjoy doing it. And it’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?”

“You all work so hard. You deserve more, even if it’s just better caf.”

He squeezed your wrist gently. “You don’t owe us anything. It is our duty to the Republic--”

“I know, Fox,” you tried to hide your grin, and failed. “But you’re also my friends.”

That seemed to surprise him, hand falling from your wrist as he sat back in his chair and regarded you curiously. You made your way back to the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back over your shoulder.

“Have a good morning, Commander.”

“...You as well, ma’am.”

The door slid shut behind you. Fox slipped his helmet off, setting it on his desk and staring hard at the door you had disappeared through. His eyes flicked to the paper cup of steaming caf, brows furrowed.

It was the first time you had called him by his name.

Friends?

----

After that day, Fox seemed to be trying to talk to you more. Instead of taking his caf and running off, he would stay, either to chat or just hang around for a minute with you and the other Guards. Stone nudged Thire, who nudged Thorn, and they all looked over to where Fox leaned his hip casually against your desk and you were laughing at something he said.

“Did someone replace Fox while we weren’t looking?” Thire questioned under his breath.

“I’ve never seen him so...cheery,” Stone said.

You smiled up at Fox, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. They watched as your fingers grazed the back of his hand where it rested on your desk. “Think something’s goin’ on between those two?” Thorn asked, gesturing vaguely over towards you and Fox with his cup.

“Absolutely.” Thire didn’t hesitate to answer.

The three quickly snapped to attention as Fox excused himself, heading their direction. You gave them a small wave. Thorn was about to wave back before Thire thumped him in the arm.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Fox grumbled as he passed them, heading to his office. “Get to it.” You hid your laugh behind your hand seeing the three Commanders scramble to disperse.

Evening rolled around, and you cocked your head side to side, stretching your neck and shoulders. You had been going over forms all day, datapad after datapad, organizing reports and requests for the Chancellor and the Senate. Your shift was almost over, and you were getting ready to go home for the night.

Various members of the Guard had come and gone, leaving and returning from patrols. Senators and representatives had filtered through; less and less as the evening progressed. You were just getting ready to leave when Fox stalked through, back from his rounds, tense and practically vibrating with irritation. He didn't even spare you a glance as he disappeared into his office. If the doors weren't automatic, he likely would have slammed it shut.

You knew he had a thankless job--a job he had no say in having, either. Usually it was something to do with the Chancellor that got him so worked up. Half the time you thought Fox would strangle the man himself if he could. Maybe you should take Fox out to one of the cafes nearby, just for a second to breathe and not carry the weight of the Guard on his shoulders. Was that against regulation? It might be better to invite him back to your apartment. Or did that imply too much?

You pushed yourself up from your chair, mind made up. He could always say no. You wouldn’t be offended.

You paused outside the door to his office, listening carefully. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side. So, you knocked.

“What.” Fox’s biting tone surprised you, but you didn’t take it personally.

“Commander? I...It’s me,” you said hesitantly, and then wanted to smack yourself. Confidence. “Is everything alright?”

No response. You took the silence as a sign that he wasn’t interested in talking. That was fine. You didn’t want to impose if he needed time to himself. The door slid open just as you had stepped back, intending to leave. Fox sighed, jerking his head to direct you inside.

The door shut behind you, and Fox sat heavily in his chair at the desk. Another deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes before he put his head in his hands.

“Commander Fox?” You took a tentative step forward, so you were close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder.

He looked up at you. There was still tension lining his shoulders, hands flexing into fists and then relaxing. Stress. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, and then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?” You could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice, likely as to not snap at you again.

“I just wanted to check in, sir,” you said, coming around the desk to stand next to him, leaning your weight against it. “It looked like something was bothering you.”

He waved his hand in the air vaguely, brows pinched. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not one of my men.” He looked like he was debating saying more, so you waited patiently, quietly, hoping he recognized that you were here to listen if he so needed.

“As you likely know, there’s a gala coming up. Senators, politicians, ambassadors, Jedi….” Fox huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to be a security nightmare. And the Chancellor,” he spat, venom in his voice, “has been on my case about patrols and the Guard. Always demanding more. We’re spread too thin, and not getting the support we need--” he cut himself off. He was getting himself worked up again.

You placed your hand over his where it was clenched into a fist on the desk. It relaxed under your touch. Fox heaved another sigh mixed with a groan. “I’m behind on paperwork too,” he glared at the stack of datapads sitting to the side. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to find the time to do everything.”

“Hmm,” you reached over and picked up one of the datapads, skimming through it, hopping up so you were now sitting on the desk. It was just a patrol report that needed Fox’s signature before being filed. “What’s your CC number?”

“CC-1010,” he answered instantly, then regarded you with suspicion. “Why?”

You signed the bottom of the form: CC-1010, “Fox,” and submitted it.

“What are you doing?” his voice seemed to have kicked up an octave.

“Helping you with your work. I deal with paperwork and holoforms all the time,” you said, picking up another datapad and scanning through the information. “Most of the time it’s to make sure there’s a document trail. Most of these probably don’t need an in-depth review, they’re not important. They just go in the archives and are never looked at again.”

“I--you--that’s illegal,” he sputtered. But he seemed more surprised than serious.

You raised a brow at him, signing his designation and name once again before submitting the next form. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. Interesting. Then he had a thought. “Your handwriting doesn’t even look like mine.”

“Doesn’t it?” you showed him where you had signed. It was almost identical to his scrawling script. His eyes flicked between the form and your face, incredulity on his features.

“How…?”

You shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been good at. Saved me a lot of trouble as a kid when I needed my parents to sign for something at school. Especially when it was a disciplinary note.” Fox barked a disbelieving laugh at that and you couldn’t help your sly smile. “Even if I didn’t mimic your signature, no one would notice. Or care. You could mark the lines with an X and it would go through; it’s only the acknowledgement they care about. You can even draw a loth-cat face and have that be in the archive forever as a signature.”

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened with a chuckle. “Some of these aren’t just patrol reports though. I actually have to read through the more important ones.”

You handed him a holopad as you picked up your third. “How’s this: we work on these together; if I find one that has important information or requires more than a signature, I’ll give it to you.”

He regarded you for a long moment, debating your offer. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders; he looked less tense, less overwhelmed, even less exhausted. Then he slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you have to let me buy you coffee for once.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“We’re friends. Right?”

That stopped you short. You did consider him and the other guards friends, but to hear him say that he also considered you one...it was nice. It made a pleasant warmth flutter in your stomach, and you couldn’t help your shy smile at his words. “Right,” you agreed. The soft upturn of his lips made your breath hitch. He looked so young when he smiled.

The two of you worked in companionable silence, steadily making your way through the stack of datapads. You had been correct--most of them were unimportant; standard reports and forms that required a signature purely for protocol. Every once in a while you handed one over to Fox for him to read through. Slowly, your free hands had crept together, and Fox hoped to the Maker that you didn’t notice how warm his cheeks had gotten. 

Your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he didn’t notice he was staring at the way your fingers moved rather than reading through the form you handed him until you cleared your throat. “Fox?” you asked quietly. His gaze landed on your lips. He wanted you to keep saying his name, he wanted to hear it again and again--

You brushed a stray curl back from his forehead. A tug on your arm had you stumbling forward off-balance, and you would have fallen if strong arms had not wrapped around you and pulled you into an armored chest. Heat rushed to your face at the new position you found yourself in: sat in Fox’s lap, his hand still entwined with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle, soft. His lips pressed to yours chastely, far more gently than you expected him to be, and you felt the datapad fall from your hand. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground made Fox pull back, but then you grasped the back of his neck, twining your fingers in his curls, and pulled him back to your mouth. He tossed his own back on the desk with a groan as your lips met again.

You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened for you. Fox was content to let you lead. His hand gripped your hip, and he sighed into your kisses, melting from your affection. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that--tasting, breathing each other in, sharing languid kisses full of pent-up desire.

His wild curls were soft in your fingers, and he all but purred when you lightly scratched your nails along his scalp. The hard plastoid of his thigh plates was uncomfortable underneath you, and you shifted your hips slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. The breath hissed out through Fox's teeth, and your face flushed with warmth realizing you had brushed against his codpiece. His fingers tightened on your hip and thigh, pulling you towards him, encouraging your hips to roll against him again.

It was an awkward angle, with you sitting with your legs thrown over his lap, but from the hitch in Fox’s breathing it was doing something for him. You hummed into his mouth before pushing yourself up, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you swung one leg over so you were now straddling him, chest to chest.

“Better?” he rumbled, nipping your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You squeaked as his palms cupped and squeezed your ass, tugging you closer. Both of you basked in each other's eager little breaths and soft noises, hungry and wanting for more.

"Mhmm." The new position allowed you to feel the firmness of Fox's codpiece against your center when you pressed your hips into his. Fox really appreciated the new position, with your tits against his chest and free access to grope your ass. He almost whined into your mouth at the steady slow grind you started against him.

You wanted to hear that noise again. An idea struck you. You wanted to taste him. One more deep kiss, then you shimmied back off his lap. Fox made a noise of protest and tried to pull you back to him, but you just grinned and shooed his hands away. The floor was cold on your knees as you settled between his spread legs.

“What are you--oh,” he cut off with a harsh breath as your deft fingers unclasped his codpiece and tossed it away. Immediately, your palm cupped the warm bulge at the front of his blacks. He shifted in his seat, and you noticed his cheeks and ears had flushed a shade darker. How cute.

“Commander,” you purred, slowly stroking him through the fabric.

“Y-yes, cyare?” His hands flexed at the arms of his chair. He was struggling to not reach out and pull you back on his lap. Normally so composed, Fox now looked wrecked with his lips slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and hair mussed.

“Will you let me suck your cock?”

Fox spluttered and fumbled at your bluntness. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, still slowly stroking him over his blacks. You could see him fighting with himself. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his length. But he also didn’t want you to feel like you had to--he also desperately wanted to pleasure you.

“Please?” you leaned forward and mouthed at his clothed erection, letting your spit soak the fabric. Your eyes locked with his, looking up at him with your best faux-innocent look, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But Maker, you were hungry. You wanted him.

“Fuck,” the word sounded as if it had been punched out of him. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the rich brown of his irises. “Fuck, yes--”

You wasted no time in tugging the band of his blacks down. A shiver worked its way through him; seeing you on your knees in front of him was a dream--a dirty little fantasy he would never admit to. Many nights alone in his quarters or in the showers he had roughly fisted his cock to the thought of you in situations that were most definitely unprofessional, biting the back of his hand to keep his noises at bay. And now here you were, the sweet secretary, making his dreams become reality.

The sliver of warm skin revealed to you made you instantly want more, and you couldn’t stop from pressing a light kiss to his hip. Then you eased his leaking cock from his blacks. Fox hissed in a breath through his teeth as your hand loosely wrapped around him, pumping his length slowly. The precum that dribbled from the tip slicked your grip. He was thick and firm in your hand, like velvet-wrapped durasteel.

The first stroke of your tongue against his cock made him curse. You licked slowly, working your way from tip to base and back, tracing the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. Taking the head of his cock in your mouth, you tasted the salty tang of the precum that leaked from him. When you hummed around him, his hand shot to your hair, fingers winding through the strands. He didn’t push you down or pull you away; instead, he merely just...held on.

Fox’s breathing kicked up watching you worship his cock with your tongue and hands. You enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together, slowly making him fall apart piece by piece. Your head bobbed up and down his length, each time taking more of him. Your hand continued to pump and work the rest you hadn’t fit in your mouth. He breathed out a string of words in a language you didn’t understand, but from the tone it sounded like he was praising you.

All his little noises were making the heat coil in your core. Wetness pooled between your legs, and you clenched your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief. You closed your eyes to concentrate, focusing on the weight of his cock on your tongue, the heat of his body. You slowly took more of him in your mouth until you felt his tip bump the back of your throat. Breathe through your nose. Fighting off your gag reflex, you swallowed around him.

“Shit! Shit, mesh’la--” Fox cried out above you, feeling your throat constrict around his length. He tugged gently on your hair, and you pulled off him with a gasp. “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” It was meant to be a warning, but he sounded too breathless for it to carry any weight.

“But Commander,” you looked up at him, enveloping the tip of his cock in the heat of your mouth and gently sucking. His thighs twitched under your hands, cock throbbing, and you pulled off with an obscene pop. “That’s the best part.”

You were messy, letting saliva drip from your mouth and down his cock. You sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of his length until it was sopping. When you ducked down to take his balls in your mouth, his breath hitched, hand tightening in your hair, and a low moan came from him.

“Gedet’ye, mesh’la, gedet’ye--” Fox choked out.

“Hm?” You pulled back, hand wrapped around his cock and continued to pump him tightly. You twisted your wrist when your hand brushed over his head. He was panting lightly, and looked deliciously wrecked.

“Gedet’ye,” he said again, “please.”

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump. You looked filthy, lipstick--Coruscant guard red?--smeared, lips and chin wet with spit. “I want you to cum in my mouth, Fox.” Then you brought your mouth back to his cock and sucked, laving your tongue over the sensitive head as one hand stroked the base. The other came up to cradle his balls, and he was done for.

Fox cursed up a storm in both Basic and Mando’a, nearly doubling over as his orgasm was wrenched out of him by your clever mouth. You kept your gaze connected with his, eyes hazy and half-lidded. Warm spurts of his release filled your mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down, milking his cock until he had nothing left. Subtly, you rubbed your thighs together, so turned on it nearly hurt. Seeing Fox fall apart for you stoked the fire of arousal in your core.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes as he slumped in his chair, chest heaving for breath. “Stars above, you’re going to kill me,” he said. You giggled, hands running soothing motions over his thigh plates, even though he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid. He looked boneless and sated, which was exactly your intention--well, part of your intention.

Then he was guiding you back up, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard. It was desperate, deep, filled with so much emotion that you couldn’t decipher it, you only knew that you felt the same. You moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and you noticed the glint in his eye and his sly grin before he kissed you again, standing and guiding you back to sit on his desk.

“Now it’s my turn.”

[bakudekushimasimp]

Pairings: katsuki bagukouxy/nxkirishima

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, threesome, vaginal sex, anal, DP, mild degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it, before you tap it), oral

Summary: you walk into their dorm while they’re comparing sizes 👀

*A/N: yes they are in a dorm but they are also aged up, however old reader thinks is appropriate for people to have sex at, I don’t see grown men comparing sizes so of course they’re still younger. (I’m thinking around 18) can be older! It’s all up to the reader!

Mina and you are walking down the hallway about to turn in for the night, discussing improving your quirks and how your internships have been going. Everyone was either already in their dorms, washing up, or chatting it up in the lounge area. You both pass by the boys restroom as Todoroki steps out in only a towel hanging on his hips. Mina, being the overly confident one, praises him for his fit figure and tells him she might need his ice quirk with how hot he’s made it in the hallway and it wasn’t because his fire quirk. Shouto’s cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as he slips past you two and crosses the hall to his dorm. You both continue walking as you both giggle at his cute reaction. Mina then decides to bring up the topic of who the cutest boy was in your class. You roll your eyes and look at Mina,

“Mina, we are not 13 anymore.” She only nudges you and laughs. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of any of the guys being insanely attractive, or their quirk just interest you more than others..” You think about it as you watch your feet, and slow down your pace. Now that you thought about it you have been paying more attention to someone than usually. Not being able to take your eyes off them while training. Or in class. A blush creeps across your face and Mina shouts, “See! I knew you had a little crush on SOMEONE!” You jump and quickly tell her to quiet down. You did not want to draw attention to yourself. Before you can say anything Mina turns to you abruptly, “Y/n I totally forgot. Kirishima has my *insert subject* book from class he needed to borrow it to finish up some of his homework do you think you could grab it for me! I need it before tomorrow!” An image of Red Riot smiling flashes across your mind and you start to stutter, “I s-suppose.” She jumps a little and claps her hands. “Thank you y/n” she quickly gives you a hug, your now standing in front of her dorm room door. “I’m going to bed, but you can leave it outside my door I’ll grab it in the morning when I wake up!” You hesitantly smile, hoping that the boys weren’t busy or asleep so you didn’t disturb them over a silly book. Mina retreats into her room, as you turn around to head back towards the boys dorm.

You stand in front of there door hearing muffled voices on the other side. You figure it’s better to get it over with, and since they both seem more than awake you’d just grab the book and go. You take a breath and twist the door knob open.

Your breath catches in your throat and your mouth hangs slightly ajar. Your face turns a fiery red. Both Katsuki and Kirishima stand their with their manhood in their hands. It looked as if they were trying to compare sizes, you only heard a brief “mine is definitely bigger,” before they turnt to the side snapping their heads towards you. You never knew someone could be that big. Kirishima’s cheeks flush and he quickly pulls his shorts up and over his cock only leaving his perfect v line and a red trail to view. Katsuki still holds his and isn’t so quick to move but eventually tucks himself back into his sweatpants. “What are you staring at idiot!” He practically barks at you. “Never seen a dick before?” Your throat is so dry your eyes quickly shift to the floor and you simply croak out, “M-m-Mina sent me to get her book from Kiri.” You see Kirishima tense at your cute nickname you’ve always called him. Katsuki rolls his eyes and grunts plopping onto his bed. “Well.” You look up from your feet and make eye contact with Kiri. He chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “I guess I did forget to give that back to her,” he then turns walking to his desk and grabs the book. But before he could make it to you, to hand it to you, Bakugou stops him. “Wait,” you both turn and shift your attention to him. “so you obviously just saw us both just now when you walked in so..” you look down quickly twirling your thumbs around each other. Kirishima shifts back and forth on his feet feeling embarrassed by the whole situation. “Who looks bigger to you.” You stop twirling your thumbs at the same time Kiri stops shifting on his feet. You look up at Katsuki who is now leaned back smirking with both hands behind his head. You can’t help but look at his muscular arms twitch, and your eyes trail to his shirt that is lifted revealing a peek of his toned abs and blonde patch of hair that leads to the monster he was hiding in his sweatpants. You hurry and snap your eyes back up to his face where his smirk has now widened he knows what he’s doing, he licks his bottom lip and brings it under his teeth. His look sends a rush of heat straight to your core, dampening your panties. You then look to Kirishima who’s print is revealing itself in his shorts. He licks his lips, “You don’t have to answer that we all know the answer.” Katsuki sits up breaking his seducing pose and shouts “Oi!” You giggle and they both can’t help but let out a groan at the cute sound leaving your mouth, thinking of how nice your moan must sound. Katsuki’s cock twitches underneath his sweatpants and he stands and walked towards you like a lion prowling on its meal.

“We’ll see about that, Y/n can decide who genuinely has the bigger cock here.”

Kirishima tosses his book to the side and slowly approaches you never breaking eye contact as Katsuki makes sure the door is secured shut. Kiri comes up and gently cups your face and your legs start to tremble. Katsuki comes up behind you pulling his shirt off on the way, and soon enough you are pressed between both guys. Bakugou runs his hands down your arms and over your hips as Kirshima leans in only an inch or so away from your parted lips. Bakugou leans into your ear after places a few sloppy kisses up your neck, “tell us you want this..” your eyes are fixed on Kirishima’s and you can’t believe this is happening. “Y-y-yes.” Bakugou nibbles and your ear and then bites your shoulder leaving a love bite. “Yes what?” Kirishima is searching your eyes waiting for the words his erection raging underneath his shorts, he gently pressed it into your stomach as he is taller than you. “I want this, I want you, both.” You finally manage to get out. Katsuki hums into your skin as he grabs your ass and slides his hands around your thighs feeling all your curves. Kirishima takes the opportunity of your little moan to kiss you letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You both start kissing wildly and passionately as if you’ve both been waiting for this moment. Bakugou’s hand slips into your pants as he continues to leave his marks over your neck and shoulders, he feels just how wet him and his roommate have made you. “Already s’wet for us, you came here wanting to get fucked didn’t you, you little slut.” He pulls his fingers out of your pants covered in your slick and brings it up to where you and Kiri are lustfully exploring one another’s mouths. He pushes his finger in the mix of both of your tongues letting you both have a taste. You let out a whimper as Kirishima groans into your mouth. Katsuki pulls his finger back and takes it into his own mouth sucking in the mix of saliva and juices. “S’good” he groans as he pushes his erection into your ass.

Kirishima pulls away from you a string of saliva drawn between both of your lips. You look at him dazed with hooded eyes. He pulls your shirt over your head as Katsuki unhooks your bra from behind you and they let both pieces of clothing fall to the floor. Katsuki grabs your breast and squeezes tightly, “who knew you were hiding such a sexy body underneath that hero suit of yours, you’re always so shy and bashful but look at you turning into our little whore.” Katsuki slaps one of your breasts causing you to let out a whimper. Kirishima slips his shorts off along with his boxers and pumps himself with his fist watching as Katsuki plays with your hardened peaks. You rub your thighs together trying to give some type of relief to your aching sex. Bakugou makes eye contact with kirishima and it’s like they exchanged words because next thing you know Kiri was sweeping you up and bringing you to the bed. Kirishima lays you on the bed and helps you out of your remaining clothes, while Katsuki is removing his sweatpants and boxers from his godlike body. Kiri crawls between your legs letting your thighs rest on his as he spreads you out in front of him. You bring your hands over your eyes to hide your face and Kiri leans down next to your ear. “I’ve only dreamt of this happening, I can’t believe I can really enjoy you like this y/n. Don’t worry I’ll be gentle.” You remember the length and girth of his member from early and all you can think is of how no matter how gentle he was he’d still tear you open. Your pussy clenches around air, your stomach in a knot.

Katsuki makes his way over to you and stands next to where your head lays on the bed. He strokes himself and reaches out removing one of your hands from your face. “Don’t be shy now.” Kiri takes your other hand and lets it run from his chest to his rock hard abs. You shutter at the feeling sending goosebumps up your body. You look at Bakugou’s stuff erection and watch the precum drips from his tip down his shaft. He lets go of your arm and grabs a fist full of your hair pulling you to the perfect angle. He slaps his member on your cheek, “open.” You look at him through your lashes and open letting your tongue roll out. He wastes no time shoving his cock into your mouth letting his head fall back at the sudden warmth. Kirishima kisses his way down your body to your core, but before ravishing you he doesn’t hesitate to leave some love marks/bites all over the insides of your thighs. You try to refrain from squeezing his head between your legs as he then licks straight up your slit and starts to suck on your swollen clit. You moan letting your eyes roll back, the vibrations around Katsuki’s cock driving him wild. He thrust in and out of your mouth matching your head bobs. Kirishima uses one of his hands to slip a finger into you to prep you for what was to come as his other hand went to work twisting your nipple and palming your soft tit. You were drenching his face as you reached your high, it seemed Bakugou was coming close to his as well. Kirishima added another digit to your cunt and curled his fingers pressing against your sweet spot. Your back arched off the bed and not much longer you were coming unraveled. As your throat opened and you hummed against Katsuki’s cock he took the opportunity to shove his entire length down your throat, thrusting into your face until he exploded forcing you to swallow every drop he gave you. He pulled out of your mouth and tapped you on the face wiping saliva and cum across your cheek. “You liked me fucking your pretty little face didn’t you slut.” You nodded your head yes licking your lips, kirishima came up from devouring you to bring you into another hot steamy kiss both of you tasting you and Katsuki on each others tongues.

Kirishima then rolled you both over pulling you on top of him. Your breast hovering over his face and his cock at your entrance. “Are you ready, y/n?” He then took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently. You brought a hand up to tangle in his hair, and you stammered out “y-y-yes Kiri, I’m ready” he nipped at your nipple at released it from his mouth. He looked at you to check if there was any doubt in your eyes but all there was was the reflection of lust and desire. He slowly started to push himself into you and you could already feel the stretch. He placed his hands on your hips easing you down gently. There was pain mixed with pleasure. All your wetness from the orgasm made it a little easier. Katsuki was on the bed and had positioned himself behind you. He reached around and cupped one of your breast while the other hand rubbed circles over your clit creating more slick for kirishima to push himself into you. You eased yourself all the way down, letting Kiri bottom out in you. You moaned his name digging your nails into his chest. His quirk activating at the sensation making you moshing even louder as you felt him harden and pulse inside you. He pulled you down into a sloppy kiss. Katsuki took the opportunity to massage your bottom as Kiri started his movements thrusting into you. Suki spit letting it drip down onto your lower back he rubbed his thumb in it dragging it down to your puckered hole. He eased his thumb inside you stretching you. You gasped at the feeling of something penetrating you there. “You like that dirty slut?” He slapped your ass cheek with his other hand. You grinded yourself against Kiri moaning into his mouth. “I’ll show you who’s dick you like more, princess.” With that Kirishima broke the kiss and moved to your neck finding your sweet spot and not moving. Katsuki removed his thumb and ran his length up and down your ass. He eased himself into you giving you time to adjust. He groaned as you sucked him in to your tightness. Kirishima was panting as you had your mouth agape tongue hanging out. Kiri took two fingers and hooked them into your mouth as Bakugou reacted up and grabbed your throat bout of them penetrating you at the same time. The tension in your stomach built as you felt another release coming. Kiri’s thrusts we’re turning sloppy as he starting mumbling to himself. “Fuck…s’tight..you like taking both of us…our little slut..all ours.” Katsuki smirks and slams himself into you causing your back to arch higher. “Look at you bringing Red Riot to his knees.” You tighten around both of their cocks as you reach your release. Kiri squeezes your thighs hard as you clench down on him. You see spots of white as you squirt all over his cock and Katsuki’s balls.

Katsuki pulls out of your ass looking at the gaping mess he’s left you, grabbing your hair and pulling you up to his chest. He grabs your thighs and pulls your body off Kiri holding you as Kirishima gets up on his knees. Bakugou puts you back down on the bed, your knees and arms wobbling as you are on all four. “We’re not done with you yet, princess.” He grabs your hair and slips himself inside your drenched sex. “Fuck.” He moans bottoming himself out. You can feel your stomach bulge as he fills you up. Kiri swipes your hair out of your face and caresses your chin pulling your face up he gives you a lazy smile before licking his bottom lip and pushing himself to your mouth. As Katsuki starts to relentlessly pound into your walls he uses the grip on your hair to help you suck all your wet juices off his friends dick. You gag slightly as he forces your head completely down his length. Tears brim your eyes at the complete euphoria your body is going through. Katsuki shoves your head down several more times before kirishima throws his head back loudly moaning your name. He pulls out and paints his seed across your beautiful face. The sight pushes Bakugou over the edge and he releases his vice grip on your hair to dig his fingertips into your hips, he was sure to leave bruises. He sloppily pumped into you until he pulled out and fisted himself until he released all over your back.

You collapsed onto their bed making sure not to lay your face directly onto anything. Katsuki chest is heaving as he climbs off the bed, kirishima holding you somewhat in his lap. Bakugo grabs a towel and hands it to Kiri for you both to clean up while he cleans himself up. After you all are wiped clean you all lay on the bed. Your whole body is tingling and your mind is spinning. You lay between Dynamight and Red Riot amazed that you of all people just got to experience them both at the same time. You lay on Kiri’s chest as Bakugou rubs circles where he had just spread his seed on you only moments ago. Didn’t take him long to break the after care silence when he clears his throat, “So who do you think was bigger?”I

[honey-lemonz]

From Wattpad..

Xmale Reader

3rd Pov

Warning includes sexual content

Includes: dumbification, master kink if you see it rough sex, degradation, barley a praise kink, female form Muzan, squirt, getting eaten out over stimulation

Muzan will still go by He/him

Requested by:maskstudioart

Thank you for the request!

Muzan didn't ever think he would dub down this far. He would every single day, change his form to his more feminine body and go flirt with a demon archer.

The demon knew it was Muzan the progenitor and knew if he did something wrong he would die but...

Muzan had an obsession.

He overly loved the feeling of climax in a female form, it was so different than a males.

You could say he was a virgin with this meaning he was inexperienced but God's did he fucking love to finger himself.

He just wished a certain archer would make him feel the climax himself.  Muzan couldn't lie, he was a strong demon, very useful as well, very strong too. Good enough to be a spot for the twelve kizuki. Not a lower moon of course most likely and upper rank.

But for some odd reason he didn't want him as a servant.

He wanted him as a lover. And he knew love needed to be two sided otherwise it wouldn't work.

So how do you make a lust full demon king make another demon who is a devoted archer and is devoted to his sport and possibly not interested in him or fears him?

Gifts and buy lots of them, bribing.

Muzan wore his most fancy kimono and tied his hair into his bun and made Daki put the pins in. He wore a signature floral style which is famous muromachi period which it the century the archer if from.

He put on a red lip and was out the infinity fortress and walked to the archery park filled with cherry blossoms and bamboo gates. No human knew of the hidden places.

Muzan glared at the other demons to open the gate and strolled on in, he felt like a school girl who had a crush on her upper class men. Except he is older and stronger.

The archer was practicing with their bow and was in total focus. He could sense Muzan and smiled vividly that his lord could see him.

"Hello, Muzan-sama. How are you tonight under this moon." His voice made the king's pussy clench on nothing. He bit his lip and walked closer. A pale and touched the grey-ish skin of the archer. Veins throbbing on muscle.

Muzan traced them and hummed, his voice not menacing but suggestive.

"I am well, my archer..My search for the blue spider lilly is going unsuccessful but I grant time will tell. Now, how is my dear, archer. Have any whores here?"

Muzan is a jealous and petty thing. He knew the archer can have whores here and there. Daki has spoken about it. She even said his physical domination is almost more tempting and frightful than Kokushibou. (sexy ass man koku)

The archer inhaled before letting the string of the bow go. "What of it my lord?" Normally Muzan would be angered of the question but he, he made it sound like a challenge.

"Well, I came here to see my beloved and most favorite archer...I didn't come to see if he is fucking another whore. I thought warriors like you were supposed to be poised."

The archer's fist clenched, snapping the bow in half. Muzan let out almost a moan at the sight of his strength.

"Yes my lord. I am poised, who ever told you of these lies must want to anger you. I haven't had a woman nor man at my side since the Sengoku."(making the archer older than Koku)

Muzan gazed at his split eyes, cat like with the gold color shining through. He wasn't lying, so either Daki was or whoever told Daki lied. Either way Muzan will deal with it later.

"So, my archer if to say you did have a whore what would she be? What would she looked like? Would she be rich? Poor?"

Muzan stepped behind him and pressed his womanly breast against his stern and muscular back. A thing kimono separated the skin to skin contact. The archer prepared his stance again. He inhaled and held the strong and tight bow. He pulled his back to his cheek.

"She, or he would have to learn how to speak of what they want." Muzan hummed and wrapped his hands around his waist from behind. Moving his hands up and down slowly, taunting him. His nails circling around his peck and the faint lines of his abdomen.

"What about her mouth? Should she speak like a whore or more of a queen? Or do you want to shut her up yourself..."

Muzan's hand dipped down to the hakama pants, the white fabric holding and slowly untying them. "Or do you want her to do all the work, my archer.."

His other hand curled around the arm that was holding the arrow. Holding onto his bicep. Leaning up to whisper into his ear.

"Tell me my archer..what kind of whore do you want me to be for you?"

(M/n) sighed and rested his arms and set the bow down. He sighed and let his head fall down to look at the ground. The sweat off his body made it shine slightly underneath the moon light. he looked so delicious, it made Muzan restless.

He wished he could see him during the sun or wake up beside him and just let him fuck the shit out of him or eat him out.

"Muzan-sama." The king in question hummed and smiled devilishly at his favored archer. "Yes (M/n)?" he answer as his long blue nail was tracing the outline of his cock.

"One thing."

He hummed again, he could read his mind and knew what he was going to say and it made him drip with slick.

"Whores that ask to many questions are just begging to be fucked." He dropped the bow and turned around the see Muzan. He smiled and blushed.

Muzan lifted his arms making him carry him. He didn't want to be in control he just wanted him to fuck him deep into the ground. His pussy was aching it.

Muzan was laying in his shoulder. If any demon saw him, they'd be killed.

They walked into the large estate, the house had been a gift from Muzan. He was so happy he decided to kill of the family here and give it to him.

He dropped Muzan on the engawa and stripped himself of his thin kimono but not the hakama pants. His chest that housed that baritone voice, a voice he wanted to her moan his name and name alone made the demon lord almost finger himself then.

"But since my king is here I believe it is best to pleasure him first than myself." He got onto his knees and stomach and rested on the wooden flooring. The white curtains only showed their shadows but neither cared.

He pushed the layers of cloth out of the way only to see no underwear or anything. A bare pink pussy dripping with cum.

"My lords pussy is dripping..did he plan for this? To be eaten out like a slut? How disgusting you pig." He breath fanned his clit. The anticipation was harsh but the impact was so enjoyus.

"Yes, I am your little slut, now please my archer eat me out like one." Muzan's head tilted back and spread his legs wider, his clit twitch waiting for the intense sensitivity to send it over and beyond.

"Yes, my master." His cool tongue circled his clit and spread his labia. Muzan moaned loudly and gripped the archers head. His attention to certain spots was so endearing and so careful.

"More, please! More my archer!"

His tongue dipped into his tight entrance and pushed deeper and deeper. His pointer and middle finger entrap his clit. His thumb circles it roughly. Muzan felt the blood from his teeth digging into his lips dip down onto the floral patterned kimono.

"Fu-fuck. More! Please my archer give me more!" He was arching his back and pushing his head deeper. (M/n) removed his tongue, Muzan missing the contact was about to yell at him to continue but his three fingers replaced the rage with more pleasure.

He moved his hand in and out at inhuman speed. He reached up to lick away the blood from his lords lips and bite them. His thumb moved harsher and harder. Wet and sloppy sounds filled the air.

All coming from the demon lord.

His hands gripped the arches forearm and dug into it, drawing blood with his nails. He was whining and moaning. The pressure built more and more. More lewd and rude comments were whispered into his ear.

"Who knew the demon king wanted to get fucked like a whore..so fucking wet for an archer. Was it your plan to have a good fuck? To act like a such a slut and pig. Your dripping all on my hand."

With the words Muzan's pussy gushed. He had never felt so disgusting but it felt so good to feel like a sloppy whore.

He panted and clenched on his hand.  But then Muzan felt another finger being added. (fisting) The pressure came back and made the demon lord fall back out of over stimulation. Begging and begging for more. His own hand playing with his clit and slapping it too.

His kimono was drenched by the second orgasm, he squirted father this time and more. The engawa was soaking with his delicious fluids. The blood on his lips were lapped away. (M/n) pulled his hand away and liked his digits clean of the others juices.

"So tasty my lord, you did such a good just squirting like a whore."He stood up and lifted his fucked out demon king to farther into the estate.

He rested Muzan on the futon. He stripped himself and then Muzan. His breast were round and plump, his nipples hard.

Kissing and biting them, also playing with his clit made him scream at over stimulation again.

"Pl-please, my archer..fuck me..fuck me until I cannot think.." He begged, his lipstick smudge covering his cheek, hair a mess and his bun not as perfect. The decorations were falling out. This obsession he had was growing and growing because of his dear archer.

"Yes my whore lord."

He untied the sash of the hakama and revealed his thick and long cock. Muzan felt like he was going to fucking squirt again.He pulled (M/n) down to kiss him and to force him and let their body's run against each other. His cock rubbing against his clit made him arch his back.

"Please, my archer just fuck me!"

The archer pushed no slammed himself into Muzan. Letting the demon lord get a taste of what he wanted.

But he pulled out and flipped the demon on his hands and knees. He pushed back in and growled as he clenched tightly around him. His chest pushing into Muzan's. Fucking like a wild animal.

His cock pushed pass his G-spot and made the demon lord cry out about how he is going to cum again. His mind as he fucked him wandered off. Just blank and white all he felt was his pussy gushing and squirting. His arousal dripping down his legs and (M/n)'s cock and balls.

He was drooling and crying, not even having proper speech. When the archer pulled out and showered his back and ass with cum, growling and grunting.

Muzan felt his whole body just become sore. He was the strongest demon but got fucked like the weakest.

"T-this i...is..w-whhy yo-your myy favorite..m-my archer..."

The archer chuckled and wiped the cum off Muzan and the liquids off himself. He waled away to grab a kimono for the demon king.

"You'll ma-make a great King.."

The demon king relished in the feeling of being pampered. He liked how much attention he was getting and how much care was put into it. He smiled as he was place into the warm pool of water and treated perfectly.

By the time the sun rose, the archer and him retired to their sleeping quarters and sleep in the large western style bed. Muzan cuddled close to (M/n). While he was a sleep, which proved he was a hard worker. Demons don't sleep unless anything they do is put with 100%.

Muzan pushed him nail into his temple and pumped his blood into him. The archer growled in pain but kept his eyes closed. Muzan's curse was still in affect but it would not be death just a sting.

"Yes, you would make a great King, my favorite archer.."

He fell a sleep too. His new demon king was going to be perfect, he knew it. 

That is why he was the favorite, he made his obsession grow day by day.

He was truly satisfied.

[shorkbrian]

Taking the risk of scaring you I must go on w my Tama thirst. I just can find a blog to I welcome my twisted self 😭 so Tama... I just want to kiss every part of him, kiss him through his pants, give hickeys to his thighs and after I use him throatfuck myself (I'm sure he'd go limp), I'd just overstimulate him to the point he isn't shy to be vocal, I'd give his balls, inflated or not, much love!! then I'd beg him to go balls deep in a mating press but I'msureIdwastehisseedasIcanthelpbutrub

Bro I am incapable of being scared, there is no kink shaming here ever!

(What to expect - NSFW, safe, sane, and consensual.  You’re hot for Tamaki and he’s BURNING for you babe. Body worship, hickies, throatfucking, overstim. Everything the ask contained basically lol.)

The thing about Tamaki, is that no matter how much he wants, anxiety takes over and stops him in his tracks.

His day is spent thinking of you, your sweet voice, pretty eyes, soft hands.... He’s always so distracted by his thoughts of you, it’s hard to get his job done.

But when he bumps into you, he’s a blushing mess, can barely talk, and usually ends up turning tail and heading somewhere else, just because he doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid that you think he’s weird, or that he’s weak and limp and can’t compare to the brick houses that are Mirio and Kirishima. That he’s not a real man, can’t even build up the courage to talk to people for more than five minutes without freaking out.

God, you love him though.

So you’ll have to make the first move, have to invite him out for dinner or drinks. At first, he freaks out and shoots you down, stuttering out some excuse that doesn’t make any sense. But it’s obvious that he’s interested in you, so you ask Mirio how to get through to his friend.

Next time, you ask Tamaki to come watch a movie at your house, and Mirio is right there by his side, answering before Tamaki can blush and stumble his way through an apology.

“He’d love to! Friday night?”

Secretly, Tamaki would be thanking the lord for Mirio, but also cursing his existence at the same time. How was he supposed to survive being alone with his crush?

He was going to die.

The movie happened, then another, and then you argued that it was too late for Tamaki to go home, that he should just stay over.

And damn it, Tamaki didn’t know what came over him, maybe he was swayed by your eagerness, maybe it was because he himself was eager and wanting, but he said yes.

You offered to let him borrow a shirt, but it was obvious they wouldn’t fit, so Tamaki walked himself through the five second rule. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - and then he was stripping off his shirt, even though he felt anxious.

Would you laugh at his body? Mock him for being smaller than other heros? He had some muscle, but he was definitely on the leaner side.

To his relief, you breathed out a little sigh, an “oh-” that had the tips of his ears turning red at your tone of voice.

“Tama... can I-can I touch?”

He felt himself bobbing his head, gulping as you stepped closer, greedy hands rising to his chest.

At first contact, he felt goosebumps erupt down his arms, your fingers slightly cold upon his skin. You flashed him an apologetic smile, before suddenly leaning down, placing a small kiss right below his left clavicle.

Tamaki stuttered out an awkward laugh - he felt like he was short circuiting.

Somehow, the two of you ended up in your bed, in nothing but underwear.

The man was beet red, trying to be respectful and not ogle your chest, drool over your tummy, stare and lick his lips with his eyes fixed on the jewel between your legs, the beautiful flesh covered by thin panties.

But you directed his gaze with a soft hand under his chin, a gentle “Don’t you like how I look?”

And immediately he was bobbing his head yes, staring into your eyes when you smiled down at him, directing his gaze to your body with a wave of your hand, giving him permission to shamelessly gaze at your body.

You were so beautiful, he could look at you forever. Tamaki didn’t even know how he got this lucky, being able to share this moment with you, where you both appraised each other’s bodies with awe.

But you were impatient, crawling forward to gently push Tamaki onto his back. Your eyes flickered up to his as your hands ghosted over his chest, as you leaned down until your lips were mere inches from his skin. 

“Is this fine? Tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

And oh god, oh god, this was more than okay. This was everything he could ever want, everything he could ever dream of. 

At his enthusiastic nod, his “I’m-I’m good.... please.” You gave him a soft, loving smile, before touching your lips to his chest.

Kisses were placed everywhere, his chest, the quivering flesh of his soft tummy, his delicate shoulders. You peppered his slender throat with soft pecks, grinning when Tamaki unsuccessfully tried to hold back an embarrassing, keening whine when you closed your lips around his adam’s apple.

“Feels good? Tell me.” But he was too shy, shaking his head as his hands found purchase in your hair. He didn’t have the words to explain how you were making him feel.

You huffed at his forced silence, drawing away from giving little smooches, just so you could look at his face. He was sure his cheeks were red, eyes blown out and huge.

“Tamaki, I want you to enjoy this. If you aren’t feeling good, or wanna slow down, tell me. I don’t want to do anything you aren’t okay with, alright?”

Tamaki felt his heart clench a little - you were so careful with him, so tender. He nodded again, trying to find his voice.

“Yes, yes (Y/N)-this is good. I want.....” He held himself back. What if you weren’t comfortable with this? What if you wanted an out? He didn’t want to force you either, he wanted you to enjoy yourself. Right now though, his thoughts felt jumbled, like his brain was rolling around in a hamster wheel.

“What do you want Tama?” Your voice was breathy as you leaned down to whisper in his ear, and Tamaki almost came in his fucking pants when you nibbled at the lobe. His ears were so sensitive, and he was so embarrassed by the way his hips involuntarily shifted when you continued to give his ear attention.

“I want-I want.... um, more? P-Please?” God, his voice kept cracking, he felt like a teenager again, nervous and awkward and scared of rejection.

But you were there to alleviate his fears with a soft laugh, a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

And then you were kissing down his body, brushing past his boxer-clad erection-oh god.

Down to his thighs, which you parted easily, helped by Tamaki’s eager movements. He wanted to let you have all of him - just as you wanted to give him anything, he wanted to give you everything.

You latched onto a thigh, a few inches above the knee, sucking at the flesh with a smile, tongue circling and patting and it felt good-

Then you moved to a different area, higher up, intent on sucking a beautiful bruise into his pale skin.

Tamaki had to grab the sheets, already close to cumming from the sensation of your lips against his skin. He wanted you so much, you were so perfect. He tried to hold back his voice, keep his moans and gasps and sighs in check, but it was difficult. Still, he didn’t want to weird you out or anything, so he tried his best.

The man really wanted to hear your own voice, hear you talk to him, walking him through what you were going to do to him, what you wanted to do. Wanted to hear you moan and laugh and say his name over and over again until you couldn’t speak.

For now, he was content with watching you suck at his thighs, leaving messy trails of saliva as you got closer and closer to his dick.

You stopped at the hem of his boxers, teasingly licking over the fabric, before scrunching it up with your fingers, letting your nails scratch lightly against his sensitive skin.

“Oh-” Tamaki breathed, before shooting his hand up to cover his mouth, eyes trained on your mouth. You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his own, and he-

You were so pretty, so beautiful. Tamaki felt so insignificant in your presence, so lucky. How did someone like you find someone like him attractive?

Those thoughts were quickly purged from his mind as you quickly closed your teeth around the skin of his inner thigh, close enough to his cock that when it twitched, it skimmed against your nose briefly. Tamaki had to tear his eyes away from yours, falling back on the bed to grasp at the sheets, breathing hard as he willed himself not to cum.

Working at the skin between your teeth, you sucked at the flesh, swirling your tongue around it, making sloppy little sounds. Tamaki was going to melt, he couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth around his cock, how your pink tongue would feel digging into his slit, drenching the crown, laving over the veins on the underside.

He was gasping now, a hand clutching his naked chest, eyes squeezed tightly shut, legs twitching.

You pulled away with a sultry chuckle, and this was it - Tamaki was going to get his dick sucked, Mirio would be so proud-

But you moved to his other thigh, starting at the knee again, licking and biting at the skin.

Tamaki didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or relieved.

The process was the same, teasing little bites, hard suction to purple the skin. It all felt good to Tamaki, but as you got close to his crotch, he found himself tensing up, wanting to clench his thighs together and rub his cock.

But you were leading now, and he wanted to follow.

Holy fuck, he wanted to touch his cock though. He was aching, boxers getting a little damp where his tip rested against them. Tamaki felt himself twitching, tender and wanting. 

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching down, quickly palming over his cock as you got closer with you mouth, using your nails again to roll up the hem of his boxers, to right underneath his balls. They scraped over the globes slightly, and Tamaki’s thighs tried to snap shut, stopped by your body between them.

“Sorry, here, let me?” Your hand covered his own, and he let you move it to the side, unable to stop his chest from heaving. He was so worked up already, he felt like he had just finished running a marathon.

Instead of palming over him with your pretty, soft hands, you brought your lips to the bulge, kissing it quickly, drawing back and giggling when it twitched.

“Oh, please-please touch me.” Tamaki didn’t feel bad about begging at the moment, too caught up in the physical sensations, and you seemed to like his voice. 

Without another word, you met his eyes, simultaneously opening your mouth and letting your tongue loll out flat. Still maintaining eye contact, you lowered yourself closer and closer, and Tamaki couldn’t catch a goddamn breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

You were so enthusiastic, licking at his cock through the material of his boxers, grabbing at the fabric with your teeth, pulling it back only to let it go, let it snap against his cock and make him keen. You went from soft, loving kisses to fast licks, closing your lips around part of it and sucking quickly, and Tamaki was losing it.

He was struggling to keep his hips down, to stop himself from thrusting into your face, chasing the heavenly feel of you. It felt so good, he didn’t have words, couldn’t even begin to quantify how he was feeling, other than good good good, and he wanted more.

“Don’t tease, please don’t tease. ‘M so close-” He gasped out, slim hands patting your head quickly, trying to catch your attention as he wiggled underneath your ministrations.

With a laugh, you pulled away, meeting his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Thumbs hooking into the waist band oh his boxers, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling the band, letting it slap down against his skin and make Tamaki jerk and his lungs punch out a gasp.

“Can I take these off?”

“Yes, yes, anything. Just-just touch me please.” He stumbled over his words, face aflame. “But only-only if you w-want.”

“Oh-” you smirked, beginning to shimmy his boxers down his hips, licking your lips when you managed to free his cock. “-I want to touch so bad.”

And then his boxers were off, and you were gripping his cock with your fucking perfect hands, giving him a cursory stroke that was dry and rough but so fucking good.

“You’re so lovely, everything about you is so handsome.” You spit over his cock, and Tamaki fisted his fingers into the sheets as the saliva hit the head before dripping down his length.

You used your spit to slick him up, running your hands gently over his flushed cock, enjoying the squelching sounds.

Tamaki almost died when you put him in your mouth.

Lips pursing around the head, you twirled your tongue over his skin, lapping at the slit, digging underneath the rosy crown. Tamaki barely had time to process the sensation though, because you were sheathing his entire length down your throat.

“Oh-h god!” he yelped, hips bucking upwards before he could stop them. He felt so bad, you gagged a bit and drew off his cock, coughing. “I’m-I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t mean-”

“Do that again, fuck my throat Tamaki.” You rasped, immediately swallowing him down again.

What if he hurt you? What if-

He didn’t get the chance to be anxious. 

You didn’t like how he wasn’t moving, his muscles tensed as he kept his hips still. Taking it upon yourself, you began bobbing your head, up and down, and Tamaki wanted to cry because it felt so good.

“I don’t w-want to hurt you, oh god, please wait!” He yelped, and you immediately pulled off, spit dripping down your chin.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry.” You breathed, patting his hip comfortingly. “I want you to do this Tama, I’ve practiced. No gag reflex, see?” You grabbed his hand, curling his fingers until only two were held straight, and promptly stuffed them into your mouth, pushing at his wrist so his fingers went as far down as possible.

Tamaki’s throat had never been dryer. It’s like he couldn’t speak, only dumbly nod his head as he felt your throat convulse around his fingers, all wet and velvety smooth. 

You pulled his hand away, licking seductively at his fingers before letting go. “I want you to fuck my throat, please.” You were looking at him with such honesty, such desperation. “I want to suck you off and have you cum down my throat, want it to fill up my stomach Tama.”

The ravenette could barely nod, eyes glassy, chest heaving. He wanted that so bad, you sounded like a vixen, looked like one two, batting your eyelashes at him like that.

You settled between his thighs again, giving his cock a nice, lengthy lick on the underside before fixing Tamaki with a confident stare. “Don’t hold back, I want you to feel good.” 

He was already feeling good, but if you insisted.

Cautious at first, hesitant, Tamaki was afraid of pushing too deep, moving too fast. But you grew impatient again, moving your own head while tapping his hip, encouraging him to speed up.

And he did, a bit, but he was still measuring his thrusts, trying to keep his head steady despite the tight suction of your throat.

You grabbed his hands, guiding them to your head, pressing them flat so he could hold your head. You looked up at him, completely stilling your movements, forcing your mouth as wide as it could go, fixing him with the most intense gaze.

Tamaki got the message.

He gripped your head tight, kept you in place before snapping his hips up, and you closed your eyes, as if you’d finally got what you had wanted. 

It’s like his restraint flew out the window, now that he was confident that you wanted this, sure that it wasn’t hurting you. His balls slapped against your chin, a lewd rhythm of smacks and gurgles and wet sucking coming from your mouth.

Drool was dripping off your chin, onto his balls, over his taint. When the liquid touched his hole, Tamaki shouted, eyes suiting shut as his stomach flexed. He felt so good, this was more than he had ever dreamed of, more than he could've ever imagined.

And then he was cumming, probably far too soon, but you wouldn’t make fun of him, he knew that.  He cursed, holding you flush against his hips, cock twitching against your tight throat as he shot his seed down your throat.

A few last desperate rocks of his hips, and then he was pulling you off, tiredly patting you face as you coughed.

“Are y-you okay?” And you, the angel you were, smiled, giving him a cheesy thumbs up.

“Couldn’t breathe for a second there, but that comes with the territory. Did that feel good though?”

Tamaki nodded, eyes closing blissfully. You were too good to him, too good for him.

Where did he go from here? Should he offer to finger you? He didn’t know how, he never thought he’d be in a situation where he’d be naked in bed with anyone, let alone you, a literal walking wet dream.

“You’re so quiet Tama-” You noticed, a hand stroking over his quivering tummy as he calmed down from his orgasm. “-I kinda want to hear you.”

With that confession, your mouth was on his cock again, slurping and suckling at the sensitive length.

“A-h-h! W-wait! God that’s too-fuck, no, wait!”

You pulled off quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’ll stop if you want me to, I’m not gonna force you to do anything, ever, okay?”

Tamaki nodded, cheeks flushing. “I just need... a moment. You’re-you’re good with your mouth.”

A smile graced your lips, and you tilted your head. “I still wanna hear you though, you’ve been holding back your voice this entire time. I like it when you lose yourself.”

Another nod, the man biting his lip. ‘I just don’t want to-to scare you off or anything. I’m loud, and I sound-I mean....” He averted his eyes bashfully “-My voice can get kind of-of h-high.”

That was embarrassing to admit.

You didn’t miss a beat, clambering forward until you were laying beside him, face even with his own. “But I like that Tama, I think it’s sexy when you lose control like that.”

The admission made Tamaki gasp, blushing even further, and you leaned in for a kiss, which the man eagerly returned. 

“I-I think you’re sexy too.” Was his lame reply. He wished he was better with his words, could describe how amazing and beautiful and stunning you were.

Your hand fell to his cock, drawing him out of his self-doubt. You were pumping him gently, focusing more attention on his balls, lightly pinching the skin, massaging the flesh, before giving him another stroke.

“I wanna see you cum again, and this time, you’re gonna moan nice and loud for me, yeah?”

Again, you were whispering in his ear, biting at the shell, liking over the cartilage with your warm, slippery tongue.

Tamaki drew in a breath.

“And I don’t want you holding back any of your cute sounds. If you do, I’ll have to make you cum again and again until you��re too fucked out to feel self conscious.” The promise made Tamaki’s stomach burn hot with arousal, and his cock was starting to throb again, hastened along by your helping, smooth hand.

“I’ll-I’ll try.” He whispered, voice catching in his throat. He could imagine it now, him writhing in overstimulation as you sucked at his cock, holding his hips down as he cried and shivered and moaned about how good it felt.

“Then, I’m gonna finger myself while you watch, and when I’m nice and ready, you’re gonna fuck me.”

Tamaki felt like passing out, blood rushing down to his cock so fast that he felt all fuzzy and weak.

“I’m gonna lay back, and hold myself open, and you’re going to stick your pretty little cock deep, and you’re not gonna stop until you cum inside.”

The ravenette had never been felt more turned on in his entire life.

“Sound good?” Your voice was soft, sweet. he knew that you were giving him an opportunity to say no, to express any discomfort or unease he felt.

But Tamaki only felt lust.

With a sudden surge of confidence, he turned to his side, lips seeking out your own. He kissed you desperately, eagerly, probably clumsy but he didn’t care.

When he separated, he paused for a moment, breathing against you while he tried to find words to convey his excitement.

“Ruin me, (Y/N). Make-make me cry.”

[votederpycausemufins]

All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

[lesbobiwan]

8 with Hunter 🥺 Please and thank you 😇

#8: "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat." + Hunter

warnings: spanking as punishment, cunnilingus, the joys of trying to have a sex life while being a parent to a nosy child

(lets pretend that the galaxy is nice and the bad batch has both omega and crosshair on board. because im the writer and say fuck u cowboy hat man. also u guys r here for porn. not plot)

It wasn't like you were being serious. You only wanted to have a little fun.

Crosshair was just... conveniently there.

"You must have very steady hands," you remark, holding up Crosshair's hand to inspect them.

He smirks from around his toothpick, totally aware of what little game you're playing but always ready to fuck with his brother.

His fingers are more slender than Hunter's, nimble in a way that's beneficial for a man who lives his life on the trigger of a gun.

You've always valued thickness over length.

You continue to inspect Crosshair's fingers regardless.

He lets you ooh and ahh at his fingers and in turn gets a nice confidence boost while fucking with Hunter. A beneficial relationship.

The vein on Hunter's is getting exponentially larger with every second you spend touching Crosshair, but it isn't until Crosshair offers to give you a personal demonstration of how useful his fingers can be that Hunter stands up.

"Alright," Hunter's voice is short and clipped and sure to cause the best kind of pain for your backside. "Everybody out." He stands up from his bunk, drawing the attention of Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Omega.

"What?" Echo's voice is incredulous as he looks up from whatever he was tinkering with.

"Where are we going?" Omega asks, bouncing up to her feet.

You would smile at her overabundant enthusiasm if it weren't for the fact that you wanted to be fucked. Now.

Being a new parent really puts a damper on your sex life, which was already had to be a little sneaky to begin with when you shared a ship with four other people.

Hunter falters, mouth falling open but staying silent.

"Um, Hunter and I just need to talk about something real quick, sweetheart," you cover, excitement starting to build in your gut.

Tech scoffs and mumbles something under his breath.

Wrecker elbows him hard enough to shove Tech into the side of the bunk.

"Oh," Omega rolls onto the backs of her heels, "what about?"

Yup, you're tapped out for trying to come up with excuses to get a child out of the house so you can have sex.

You look at Hunter and gesture out towards Omega. Your turn.

"Uhm... adult stuff," Hunter stammers smartly.

"C'mon, kid," Wrecker plucks Omega up around the waist and hauls her under his arm like a ball, easily leading her out of the ship.

Tech and Echo are the next to rise, both of them hauling little scraps of machinery.

"You do know we're in the middle of nowhere," Tech reminds the two of you on your way out.

"Out, Tech."

Crosshair is the last to get up, groaning with the obvious tremendous effort it takes to stand up. "You owe me," he informs you, pointing one of his long fingers at you.

"Bye, Crosshair," you sing, reaching out to graze a finger along his wrist as he steps past you.

The tension in the ship is palpable.

"I can't help but feel like you're mad at me," you point out, eyes trailing over the way that Hunter's broad chest rises and falls with each of his deep inhales.

You see Hunter's nostrils flair — most likely breathing in your arousal. No sooner than the thought enters your mind, Hunter's eyes dilate. Definitely breathing in your arousal.

Still, he doesn't say anything.

"Me and Cross were just having some fun," you defend, cheeks growing red.

Suddenly, your grand idea doesn't seem that grand anymore.

"Do you want to do this here? Or in the bedroom?" Hunter steps closer into your personal space, so close you can smell the GAR issued soap on him mixed with something distinctly Hunter.

He's offering you a small bit of mercy, a small portion of control in your punishment.

Then you have to open your big mouth.

"We could always use Crosshair's bun — hey!"

Hunter's hand closes around your hair within one breath and the next.

"Hunter!" you cry out, hands scrambling at his wrist, "What the hell are you doing? Let me go!"

He sits on a bunk and — oh, fuck it's actually Crosshair's bunk, Hunter's actually doing this — sprawls you across his lap, one heavy hand on the back of your neck.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and your cunt. "Okay, this isn't funny," you say, while internally you beg for him to keep going, "let me up."

You don't try as hard as you should to get out of his grasp. You think Hunter knows.

"No." Hunter's grip on your neck tightens while his other hand drags both your pants and panties over your ass until they get stuck around your knees. "If you're going to act like a little brat then I'm going to treat you like a little brat."

Shit. You rub your thighs together over his lap, one of your hands clasping around his ankle.

"How many do you think you deserve after that little stunt?" Hunter asks, though you know it's purely rhetorical. "Ten? Fifteen?" His hand swipes across the meat of your asscheeks, warming up the skin before he strikes it — another small mercy.

You hold your breath. You're sure any number you give will only be doubled.

Hunter huffs. "Smart girl," he comments at your silence. "Count."

That's all the warning you get before —

Smack!

You yelp at the first sting across your skin. The sound registers first before the pain. You jerk across his lap, kicking your legs out as you squeal.

The hand on the back of your neck tightens imperceptibly. "Forgetting something?"

"One!" you cry out, voice thick.

He offers you no praise. Not yet, at least. He knows this is light work for you. It's towards the end of your punishment that he'll have to start talking you through it.

Smack!

Hunter's palm lands on your opposite cheek, harder this time.

"Two!" you yelp, hands clenching around Hunter's ankle.

True to form, it takes more than a few spanks in order for you to begin to reach your limit. Your eyes get teary and you do your best to dig your face into the pristine sheets of Crosshair's bunk.

Still, despite your pain, you feel your inner thighs get slick with your arousal.

"That's my girl," Hunter coos, fingers turning almost gentle as he scratches at the nape of your neck. "Just a couple more, can you do that for me?"

His hand soothes the skin of your burning ass, but you jerk against him in sensitivity.

It's too much. Too much, you just want to be good for him now.

"Color?" Hunter prods, pulling his hand away from your stinging cheeks.

"Green!" you sob into the sheets.

Good girls take their punishment.

Hunter gives you one appraising squeeze to the back of your neck, distinctly different from how he grabbed it to get you under control, and wastes no time in delivering two succinct and brutal spanks — one to each cheek.

You wail out each corresponding number and allow yourself to devolve into tears against the sheets.

Hunter smoothes contact-warm palms over your ass cheeks, soothing the ache as best he can without getting up to grab some bacta. "Good girl," he praises, "such a good girl for me," his hand around the back of your neck slides up and begins scratching at your scalp just the way you like.

You feel your heart rate slowing down, and no doubt Hunter can too, under his careful ministrations. The ache in your ass is no less prevalent, but you can bare it.

Besides, you think as you begin to roll your hips against his thighs, there's another feeling you can focus on, instead.

Hunter chuckles, sliding the hand on your ass to dip between your thighs and ghost a finger along your folds, "Well, I suppose you do deserve a reward, don't you?"

You turn to look at him over your shoulder with teary eyes. "Please?"

Hunter flicks his thumb across your clit, and you jolt across his lap for a different reason this time. "Hands and knees, baby," he murmurs, patting your hip once to signal for you to move.

Your limbs feel sluggish as you pull yourself off his lap. "On the floor?" you ask as you start to lower yourself onto the cold ground.

A hand around your wrist stops you. "No. Right here."

Your eyes flew open. On Crosshair's bunk? Spanking you in one thing, but fucking you?

Your cunt burns in excitement. Crosshair will never forgive you and you'll never forget this.

You settle yourself onto your hands and knees on the worn-in mattress, and you don't have to wait long at all before broad, thick fingers are spreading your thighs open and a wicked tongue is pressing against your cunt.

"Fuck!" you cry out, back bowing as Hunter dives in.

His tongue is downright sloppy as he does his best to bury his face in your dripping folds. The sounds he's making against you are obscene and make your facial cheeks go almost as red as your ass cheeks.

Hunter groans against your cunt like it's the best thing he's eaten, and you tremble with the vibrations.

Fuck, you're so close already, it's not even fair.

His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks.

"Hunter!" you sob, falling face first into the mattress. Your thighs tremble beneath his hands.

After being spanked within an inch of your life, your orgasm is tittering along a cliff's edge, ready to be knocked over by the barest gust of wind that comes along in the form of Hunter sliding two thick fingers into your cunt and curling.

You fall apart around him, lips falling open in a wordless scream as your walls clench around his fingers. His relentless lips that sucked at your clit switch to slow licks as you ride out your orgasm.

Hunter pulls his fingers from your sopping pussy with a wet squelch. Immediately, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

You watch behind heavy eyelids as Hunter licks up every last drop of your release — you also notice the large wet spot in the front of Hunter's pants.

The knowledge that he came in his pants like some fresh-faced cadet is almost enough to have you wanting a second round.

"C'mon, baby," Hunter rasps, "Let's get you cleaned up."

~

When the rest of the crew comes back, Crosshair takes one look his bunk, with a wet spot from your tears and the crumpled up sheets and immediately groans.

"You're both disgusting. You're washing my sheets," he complains, pulling them off his bed as best he can without touching too much of them.

"Why?" Omega asks, popping her head in out of nowhere. "What'd they do?"

Yeah, Hunter can deal with that one too, you think as you burrow your face deeper into his chest and close your eyes.

[domkota]

— take a hi(n)t

— warnings: female reader, drug use, fwb, fingering, oral receiving (m ⇠ f), creampie, cockwarming

The smoke inside your car engulfs you and Izuku as you take another draw of your blunt, the sensation of the weed burning down your throat and throughout your lungs, only to finally be released. The greenette taps your knee and you pass him the blunt.

“This is some good shit. Where did you get it?” The tip glows orange as he takes a hit, blowing the smoke in your face. You cough at the hazy breeze.

“That’s a loaded question, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Izuku shrugs, taking another draw and handing it back to you, proceeded by a light cough. His lip wobbles, the snake bites fastened to his skin rising higher and higher with each cough progressively getting louder and louder. Shaking your head, you hit the blunt once more before putting it out for the night.

He was right, it was some good weed.

You stay silent, just reveling in the feeling of your head being in the clouds while Sleeping with Sirens plays in the background. The ambiance of the hot boxed car and Izuku’s playlist made you so relaxed and loose, but you needed more. What else could you possibly have?

Through the smoke screen, your eyes eat away at Izuku. The way that jungle of hair was disheveled, his wide emerald eyes, and those toned tattooed arms? Just the sight alone tied knots in your abdomen. He was your friend, your smoke buddy, but did you feel enough for him to steal him away with the power of lust?

Maybe if you gave him a helping hand to make him understand…

“All this smoking is making me hot,” you whine, shrugging off your top to reveal your cupped breasts enamored in the prettiest bra Izuku had ever laid eyes on. You spot him ogling your chest in your peripheral vision as you try your best to bite down a smirk. You drop the fabric somewhere in the back seat, out of sight and out of mind.

“(Y/N),” your friend sucks in a quick breath, his hand slithering towards your leg, desperate for just one touch. Izuku wasn’t as naive as you had originally took him as, with your hand guiding his own, his fingers dipping between your thighs. The weed finally starts to settle in as your head grows heavy and your feet tingle, the sensations of Izuku’s pads on your clothed cunt sending a cascade of chills throughout your body.

Guess he took the hint.

Izuku’s fingers slip past your shorts and panties, the tips of skin already doused in a thin layer of your slick. You scoot closer, causing his fingers to dive into your soaking wet sex. You hum in delight as he scissors you, slipping in a third finger while pushing in and pulling out of you.

“This what you wanted (Y/N)? Wanted to get me all riled up huh?” His chin rests on your shoulder, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You can only nod in response, rolling your hips against his rough knuckles.

“Need more, need you,” you grunt, tilting your head back as a hand runs through Izuku’s hair, tugging at the various knots.

“Gonna have to work for it kitten..”

He removes his hand from between your thighs, a cold breeze shooting through your cunt as you shudder at the sudden emptiness. Letting go of his head of hair, your eyes bore into Izuku’s sage ones, heavily laced with lust and weed, both causing you to spread his knees apart as you undo his belt buckle, the cool metal against your scorching fingertips bringing you closer to complete pleasure. He leans back and sinks further into the leather seat, helping you out by undoing his zipper, slowly no less, watching as you squirm in your seat impatiently. You hook an index finger into the belt loop of his pants and yank them down, your hand gently brushing against his hard on.

“F~uck, that’s a good girl,” Izuku squirms out of his boxer briefs, his cock springing free from its fabric confines.

Through the hazy smoke you could tell from how close you were that his tip was red and hot, his shaft just pulsing at the idea of getting attention. Sticking out your tongue, you lick a long stripe on the underside all the way up to the head, which was already leaking with precum. You hear a gargled moan from your friend, as he grabs a fistful of your hair and bottoms out in your mouth, making you writhe for a moment as your nose is pressed to his stomach. Tears dot the corners of your eyes and fall down your cheeks; you try to concentrate on your breathing while also trying to navigate your tongue around his entire length, which was way larger in perspective.

“Dammit, I’m sorry (Y/N), I just couldn’t help it…” Izuku loosens his grip on your head, allowing you to come up for air. Jaw slacked, you rub your throat for a moment before dipping back down to his aching dick and taking him in all over again. You bob your head up and down, all while trying to look up at him with those big old puppy dog eyes. This kills him, has him moving his hips in syncopation with the pace you’ve set. Your wet muscle covers every inch of his member with saliva, dipping into the pubes on his balls. You have him crossed eyed, melting in the heightened pleasure (thanks to the drugs). “Wait, hold on, gonna cum soon~!” He pleads, your lips popping off of him.

“Now that you’ve had your fun…” you kick off your shorts and underwear, leaving you only in a bra. You go to unclip it, only for Izuku to hold your hands in his.

“Keep it on, I just wanna motorboat the fuck outta you.”

With a soft snort of laughter, and your green haired friend’s blushing face, you comply with his request as you straddle his lap. His tip presses against your clit in the loveliest of ways, twitching ever so slightly and giving you the smallest bit of friction that you crave. This has been a long time coming, and damn was it worth the wait.

You wedge his cock between your folds as you slide down, pulling him in further and further. You both let out a breath neither of you knew you were holding, your bodies melding together. Looking down at your connected bodies, you realize he’s only halfway in, which makes you shiver with nerves. You hear Izuku let out a low groan.

“God don’t tighten around me like that, otherwise you’ll just milk me dry.” He rests his forehead against your collarbone, his nose snug between your breasts. His fingers palm the curve of your ass, as he starts to lower you down further on his dick. “Just let me fuckin’ impale you (Y/N),” he whispers, planting a few sloppy kisses across your skin.

As he eases into you, you feel a surge of energy course through you as you start to set a pace, slow at first but faster the more used you get to Izuku’s length. Your ass bounces in his lap, earning a few hardening slaps here and there. You moan with each smack of skin, his member growing harder and harder inside of you. You can feel this, and it makes you closer to cutting the cord that’s keeping your orgasm tied up in a knot, weighing heavy in your lower abdomen.

“F-Faster Izu, please go faster..!” You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck for a better hold to have him pound into you. He slides his hands over the curve of your tailbone, tugging you down with ferocity, ripping a scream from your lips. This new pace being set sends lightning through you, his tip kissing your cervix in just the right way.

The car is filled with the scent of weed, sex, and sweat, but all is ignored with a sensation such as this. The both of you huff in rhythm, any glass areas now completely fogged up, the condensation already running down the slick surfaces.

“S’close, I’m so close,” Izuku whimpers, nuzzling his face between your boobs with a ferocious passion.

“Me too baby, me too,” you slam your ass down on his thighs, your head pounding with ecstasy.

Your fingers rake through Izuku’s curls, pulling and tugging at the strands. The action sends him over the edge, as he warns you that he’s about to come, shooting you up with white ropes of sweet savory cum. It drips and glops down his dick and pools at the base, but he keeps moving despite the overstimulation, keeping it inside of you.

“Take it, take it!” Izuku moans loudly, stuffing you full. You squirm and squeal as you start to unravel, your juices mixing with his own. You collapse against his clothed chest, tracing the tattoos on his biceps as you try to recollect yourself. You can feel his chest heaving, rising and falling in turn with your own. “We…have to do that again sometime.”

“No kidding, best sex I’ve ever had,” you breathe, looking up at him. “…can I get off now?”

“Not yet.” Izuku keeps his arms tucked around you, holding you firm against his body, cock tucked neatly inside of you. “I’m not done with you yet…”

[curioskitty]

THE・Rarest Bakugou

Given Bakugou-kun's description as a "juvenile delinquent" (Horikoshi sensei uses the term 不良少年, or furyou shounen, meaning juvenile delinquent boy), it's expected that he wouldn't conform to standard. So obviously, it's not possible to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie properly................

What is up with this perfectly tied nonsense right here?!

Bakugou-kun, I thought I knew you!!! THE LIES! THE BETRAYAL!!!

But, it's probably just a fluke. You didn't mean it, right Horikoshi-sensei?

WTF?! WHY?!!! Horikoshi-sensei?!

Yep. Contrary to expectations, Bakugou-kun wearing a tie correctly only ranks at Ultra Rare status: difficult to find, but not impossible.

So, what's rarer than a tie-wearing Bakugou-kun? Go Beyond, Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In fact, it's even harder to find Bakugou-kun wearing a tie improperly. Given proto-Bakugou's loose tie design, I would have expected that to be the likelier delinquent-esque tie option. But I've only seen Horikoshi-sensei draw him like this once:

(Horikoshi-sensei's one year celebration illustration. This is still fairly early in the publication.)

On top of that, Bakugou-kun consistently wears his uniform tie-less and with at least one button undone on his shirt collar. His pants are always slung low on his hips and legs bunching up at his feet (except when he had to wear jeans for Best Jeanist). You can even see panels where Horikoshi-sensei drew in the rips at the hems near the heel where they drag on the ground.

So why the inconsistency, Horikoshi-sensei? I see you over there, stop pretending you didn't notice. I know you're paying attention.

Horikoshi-sensei gave proto-Bakugou a loosened tie, so what is the reasoning for taking Bakugou-kun's tie away?

Some No-Tie Theories

Fan Theory #1: HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW

//Like Midoriya-kun, Bakugou-kun came from a middle school with gakuran uniforms. They never learned how to tie them. Midoriya-kun messes up his tie, while Bakugou-kun doesn't even bother to try.//

I actually think this is the least likely reason. Bakugou-kun was designed to be a naturally talented genius. I think this applies to anything he wants to do. If he does something, it's always perfectly done.

Bakugou-kun can (and does if you look above) tie it perfectly when necessary.

CONCLUSION: If Bakugou-kun doesn't do something, it's completely out of personal preference or because he doesn't see a reason to.

Fan Theory #2: REBELLIOUS NATURE

//Bakugou-kun is a delinquent and maintains that image because he thinks it looks cool. Or maybe he is rebelling against fashion designer parents. Either way, because of his family background he knows how to tie a tie, but wants to be a rebel.//

I'd give partial points for this one. I'm pretty sure he wears his pants loose at least partially because he thinks it looks cool. However, Bakugou-kun's parents were noted to be designers and not specifically fashion designers.

Despite appearances, this is the kid that sleeps at 8:30pm, doesn't break school rules, and yells at his friends for smoking.

He zips up the collar on his gym track suit all the way. Both the summer and winter versions get the same treatment. He doesn't feel the need to "make a statement" by wearing his track uniform incorrectly. Outside of class, he can and does sometimes wear his track jacket unzipped, but during class he always wears it properly.

So then why does Bakugou-kun refuse to wear the band T-shirt and Christmas party Santa outfit? Because he isn't cooperative. In Ultra Analysis, his Cooperativeness Stat was the lowest rank: E.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun may be non-conformist and uncooperative, but he isn't a rebel.

Fan Theory #3: TRAUMA/PTSD

//This is one of the more popular theories. Between Dabi grabbing his neck, the Sludge Villain and being restrained at the School Festival, our boy has been through the wringer. As a result, he just doesn't like stuff around his neck because it gives him anxiety.//

The Western Fandom is definitely concerned about the mental health of the kids. But I don't actually think this is the reason. Not that I don't think they all need some therapy and self care, especially right now, but there just isn't evidence for this specific trauma in Bakugou-kun.

He wears scarves and even turtle necks without a problem.

On top of that, Bakugou-kun ALSO unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and gakuran in middle school; even from before the Sludge Villain incident. There isn't any evidence Bakugou-kun changed his dressing habits due to trauma. He wore a scarf to the entrance exam for UA, too.

CONCLUSION: Bakugou-kun has ALWAYS worn his shirts with the top button unbuttoned.

These 3 theories are inadequate, too. Even if they did explain the reasons Bakugou-kun doesn't wear a uniform tie, they don't factor in the reasoning for why he DOES wear his other ties properly sometimes.

HC#1: Bakugou-kun's preference

Bakugou-kun doesn't seem to care about his image and how "extras" see him. Even during the press interviews after his hero debut, he wore the same style of open collar look. He's not shy about being nude or taking his shirt off.

But what he hates is being uncomfortable.

He is "explosively brawny". Just look at how thick Bakugou-kun's neck is when compared to Midoriya-kun's. It isn't just that Midoriya-kun is supposed to be scrawny, but also that Bakugou-kun has a thicker than average neck.

Bakugou-kun doesn't like to button up his shirts all the way because it's uncomfortable. It's reasonable that he zips his track suit and everything else up because those are looser at the neck or made of stretchier materials.

As for why he doesn't wear the uniform tie at all... Don't forget Bakugou-kun is a perfectionist and a bit of a neat freak.

He always tucks his shirt in. For the band performance he wore a collared black dress shirt. From what we saw of his room, it's minimalist and clean. I don't see him wanting to look like a slob.

A sloppy loose tie would probably irritate him more than just not wearing it (which is even funnier when you think about Midoriya-kun's chonk tie. It probably makes him want to strangle Midoriya-kun, or maybe just tie it himself...)

Bakugou-kun has difficulties compromising when it comes to his high standards. So if he has to wear it, it's going to be either 0% or 100%.

HC#2: Explosiveness

Why draw Bakugou-kun with either 0% tie or 100% tie? If Horikoshi-sensei is going for a delinquent image, wouldn't the 50% tie option make more sense?

Taking a look again at Bakugou-kun's profile page, Horikoshi-sensei describes him to be explosive in every way. That includes his whole body being "explosively brawny", but also adds a note that he looks slender in clothes.

Horikoshi-sensei put an effort to make every element of Bakugou-kun's character in some state of either fully compressed or explosive.

His slimming clothes, general appearance and even his speech patterns are highly compressed (blunt/terse) and loud. The extremes of his attitude are compressed too; if Bakugou-kun is not loudly raging, then he's quietly observing.

This contrast is key to his character. You can't explode if you aren't compressed first. It's supposed to be shocking to see how brawny he actually is under his slenderizing clothes. And I always feel shocked whenever I see this kid compressed into a tie.

HC#3: Deku & Kacchan

These two are set apart from the class by design and very much on purpose. Horikoshi-sensei designed them to be at opposite ends of the same spectrum.

If Bakugou-kun has muscular arms, then Midoriya-kun needs muscular legs. If Midoriya-kun buttons up his shirt all the way to the collar, then Bakugou-kun's collar has to be loose. Their designs reflect their connection.

So if Midoriya-kun has a poorly tied tie, the opposite of that is either non-existant or perfectly tied. If it's perfectly tied, he'd just blend in with the class.

The no-tie option just makes more sense.

Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou

Horikoshi-sensei only ever draws Bakugou-kun with a tie in specific scenarios. Costume events that require the neck tie as part of the costume or "fancy" events where everyone is in formal wear. And even in those, Bakugou-kun manages to not wear his tie 90% of the time.

So, I just imagine that when Horikoshi-sensei makes Bakugou-kun wear his tie, he's super grumpy! Just look at his face in every illustration he's wearing a tie in. He's probably hot, uncomfortable, and really not enjoying himself at all.

Ultimately, the "Plus Ultra Rare Bakugou" is a Bakugou-kun who wears the tie and SMILES while doing it.

(Yes, I know that's NOT actually a tie. Shut up Bakugou-kun. You're only smirking in this one because you won the Popularity Poll for the 5th time in a row...)

(Well that's random, you say? Welcome to my blog. Considering the stuff going down on canon, I figured I should give fans, and myself, a break from angst to talk about something silly.

Please note that this applies only to the manga. I've found that the anime isn't quite so strict about how Bakugou-kun looks.

Regarding the headcanons, I just want to clarify that everyone is free to think whatever they like. I enjoy all headcanons and support your right to have them.

I wrote this a while ago and then debated posting it because it's such a huge meta about... Bakugou-kun's tie. I had regrets. But now it's become my new years post. Regrets were for 2020, it's already 2021!

Demons out, fortune in!!! I know it's not setsubun for another month, but 2020 was such a demon.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!)

[lazywonderlvnd]

*hesitantly steps in the box* Umm.. soo.. I was listening to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift again and that song (is awesome btw if you haven't listened to it already) just gives me such MAJOR drarry vibes .. like -

" And I screamed, 'for whatever it's worth I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?' He looks up grinning like a devil. "

Like if that's not drarry I'd chomp my pillows. So .. *twiddling thumbs* could you pls write something with that line as a prompt?? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️ maybe use the song as inspiration.. idk? Whatever you like. ALSO, don't forget I STILL LOVE YOU that ain't changing yet and you haven't seen the last of me! Imma tail after you for eternity and you better take that as the threat it is! *throws love at you* BYE!! ❤️❤️ *vaults outside the box*

my sweetest most loved angel!! thank u so much for this prompt based on a BOP i was obsessed w when the album first came out. it got sm longer than it was meant to be, so it can be found on ao3 as well!! i hope u like it ilysm ❤️❤️❤️❤️

warnings for minor drug use (weed) and implied suicide of a minor character (lucius, extremely vague reference but pls be aware!)

rating: e word count: ~5k

When Pansy asked him how it started, Draco discovered that he didn’t know what to tell her.

Technically, though, it had started at Ernie Macmillan’s party in the beginning of summer, with the cloying scent of Freesias and Freedom Roses (“Imported from the States,” Ernie told Draco pompously, when he asked) and all those string-lights dangling from the cedar pergola, perennial balls of fire inside their clear bubbles like tiny trapped suns. Cheap beer in plastic cups, Marlboro cigarettes, and some stupid Muggle game ... darts.

Technically.  

* * * 

“Get off me, Potter,” Draco says in a failed whisper. He’s laughing and drunk and fuzzy warm under a sprawling summer’s night sky that looks like black paint. Potter tastes like Guinness every time he kisses him, and his hands are surprisingly soft. In direct opposition to his own command he pulls Potter in by the face and glues their mouths back together ravenously. The alcohol makes him sloppy (he likes it, though — the sloppiness of it) and Potter’s skin is warm where Draco slides his hand under an ugly Muggle band T-shirt to touch. 

Around the corner, he can hear music coming from the patio where nearly every single one of their former classmates are gathered, drinking and laughing and getting along famously with a much-needed buffer of five years between them and their Hogwarts days.

Much-needed for himself and Potter as well. Apparently.

He sees him sometimes, at get-togethers like this or around the Ministry, once or twice at a dinner party thrown by a mutual friend. They’re always cordial. He hasn’t insulted Potter to his face in five years.

Except for tonight, when he couldn’t help himself loudly drawing attention to the similarities between Potter’s hair and one of the shrubs in the garden. But they’re kissing now round the side of the house and because of that he’s quite glad for his slip. And it’s their five-year reunion, so. What would it be without some bickering between the two of them?

Potter presses him into the bricks and snogs him breathless, only he keeps grinning and laughing and ruining everything just when Draco starts losing himself in it.

“Quit laughing,” he scolds him. “You’re the worst, Potter. No etiquette at all.”

“That’s rude,” Potter says. His breath wafts across Draco’s mouth. His eyes are excessively green behind their round frames, which have not changed since their school days. The scar is mostly hidden beneath his wild fringe, save for the very bottom where it slashes neatly through a dark eyebrow and touches his eyelid. “I can’t help it, I’m pissed good and proper.”

His hand moves to Draco’s hip and even through the thickness of the alcohol coating his brain like a muffler he feels that touch clear and ripe as daybreak.

“So  that’s  why you’ve decided to snog me rather than …” He waves a hand vaguely, in lieu of the proper witticism with which he might normally have trounced Potter. “You know. Beat me to a pulp.”

“I only did that one time,” Potter says, grinning. Grinning and moving his thumb in circles on Draco’s hip. “And it was because you were being a twat. And I didn’t beat you to a pulp. You’re so dramatic.”

“Semantics,” Draco says. “I had a bloody nose.”

“And you deserved it.”

“Now who’s being rude?”

Potter kisses him again.

Guinness and Freesias.

* * * 

“Macmillan’s party,” he told Pansy. “He kissed me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to.” She looked smug. Her inch-long nails were sharpened to a point and painted a glossy black, and she drummed them against her cheek, the way a cat flicks its tail. “I’m surprised you kept it from me this whole time.”

“Well,” said Draco, lowering his gaze to his glass of wine and watching it flirt dangerously with the lip as he swirled it. His cheeks felt warm, but he wasn’t embarrassed. “We snuck around.”

Right, maybe a little embarrassed. Mostly conflicted.

“Oh?” For a single syllable the laughter underneath was remarkably transparent.

He looked up, eyebrows lifted. “Yes,” he said a little defensively. “For obvious reasons. At first it was just sex. A lot of it, so he usually came here. Apparently Granger and the Weasel are notorious for popping round his place unexpectedly.”

* * *

He feels opened up all over again every time Potter fucks into him, unhurried and so careful. His hand is hot on Draco’s thigh, both of them sticky with sweat and come. This has to be their third round at least, and Draco’s sluggish brain insists it might actually be four.

An open window lets in the late afternoon air, humid and drowsy and perfumed heavily with flowers (a la Macmillan, Draco planted Freesias and Freedom Roses outside his bedroom window and helped them along to full bloom with some careful magic). Potter’s hair is damp with sweat — from exertion and the relentless heat of July — and Draco slides his fingers into it, tangles them and pulls the way he’s learned Potter likes. If he’s honest, he’s harboured a very secret and  very  desperate yearning to touch Potter’s hair since he was quite young. He doesn’t know why.

Well, maybe he knows why.

Potter makes a quiet, whimpered noise that curls Draco’s toes. He speeds up his hips, closing in on his orgasm and putting his face in Draco’s neck even though it’s too fucking hot for it.

“Fuck,” Draco whines. He tries to lift his leg higher, wrap it around Potter’s waist to get that perfect angle, but they’re too slick with sweat and he lets out a frustrated noise when it falls back to the bed. “Potter,” he says helplessly, arching into each thrust and shaking with the effort. This third (fourth?) orgasm is building too slowly, sitting there hard and stubborn and heavy in his gut and refusing to be coaxed to completion. He’s dripping with the effort, muscles quivering. “Please — I need —”

But he seems to have figured it out for himself. He scoots forward, lifting Draco’s arse higher off the bed and bending him nearly in half. The angle helps him go deeper and he’s suddenly nudging Draco’s oversensitive prostate every time he fucks back in.

“Right there,” Draco gasps, tensing as this new angle lights a fire under his elusive orgasm. His cock is leaking but he doesn’t have the strength or energy to get a hand around it. Potter’s grunting with the effort of fucking him, sweat dripping down his temples and making his neck and torso gleam. “Right there, god, right there, please, I’m so close —”

Potter braces himself and redoubles his efforts, and it’s like he’s reached inside Draco and sunk his claws into that building storm in his belly because suddenly it’s ripped right out of him in a colossal wave of euphoria that approaches too much, cock spurting untouched between them  .  Potter keeps moving inside him while he rides it out, and at some point he feels the warm, wet explosion of Potter emptying in him, mumbling incoherent things that include Draco’s name.

They come down together too. Draco is clutching Potter’s arms and trying to catch his breath and Potter is trembling and clutching him back like an anchor in a veritable ocean of sensation. 

It’s like this every time. 

When Potter drops down onto the bed beside him Draco rolls over and kisses him, long and deep and satisfying, and Potter reciprocates with the kind of intensity that is completely unique to him as a person.

“That one was particularly good,” says Potter, and Draco laughs.

When he feels like moving, he knows that Potter will get up and go to Draco’s kitchen and make tea for both of them, and he won’t need to ask what Draco likes, because he remembered after the first time. They’ll drink it naked in bed as the sun sets on another endless summer day and transforms before their eyes into a humid and pungent summer night, in the midst of which they will fuck at least three more times, and Potter will keep smelling like sweat and bergamot and boy, and Draco will keep feeling starved for him.

And they won’t talk about it.

* * *

“And?” Pansy said.

“And what?”

“You said ‘at first,’” she pointed out, and arched a groomed eyebrow. “When did it turn into more than just sex?”

Draco tamped down on a smile, because that would have been more emotion than he cared to show at the moment. To Pansy or to himself.

He swirled his wine again and took a long sip, stalling. He wanted — needed, really — to talk this out with her, but he was becoming aware of an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest which was suggesting to him that he didn’t want to share everything. Not because he was embarrassed, but, well … it was private. It was between him and Harry.

“There was this one night he came over later than he was supposed to because of work,” Draco said. The memory stirred some emotion. He hadn’t thought of it in a while. “He had this bloody huge takeout bag of Thai food.”

 * * *

He sets it down on Draco’s desk, takes out a container, and after toeing off his shoes drops sideways onto Draco’s bed with it and uses chopsticks to shovel in a mouthful of noodles. Draco watches this in awe.

“Want some?” Harry asks once he’s swallowed (small blessings). There’s grease around his mouth. “There’s a million other things in the bag but you have to get it yourself. I’m dead tired.”

Draco thinks of asking what the hell is going on, because they’re supposed to be fucking by now, but something stops him. Harry really does look exhausted but quite content eating his Thai food on Draco’s bed, and he doesn’t have the heart to berate him for it or remind him that they’re fuck buddies, not friends, and that if he’d wanted to eat and lounge about perhaps he should’ve stayed at home.

And the food really does smell good.

He gets up and fishes another container out of the bag that turns out to be some sort of heavenly-smelling marinated beef, which he brings back to the bed. Harry’s rolled onto his back and has the container of noodles balanced on his stomach.

“They thought they found a Horcrux on a raid,” he says. His voice is perfectly casual, but Draco thinks he can see something troubled in his eyes. He has one foot crossed over the other and  it’s bouncing anxiously; he doesn’t think Harry’s aware of doing it. “Wasn’t. Obviously.” 

“But they needed your expert advice to be sure.”

“Yeah.” Harry looks at him, then his food. “Is that the beef?”

“Yes it is.”

“Good?”

“Haven’t tried it yet.”

He opens the container and chooses a piece, but instead of lifting it to his mouth he follows some crazy impulse and hovers it over Harry’s instead.

“Open, Scarhead,” he says. Harry blinks but does it, and Draco drops it in. He smiles, then chews.

“Brilliant.”

* * *

“We ate it instead of fucking. It was the first time I realised something had shifted.”

“And you let it shift?”

The question gave him pause. He didn’t answer right away, mulling it over. It made it sound as if he’d had a choice, and that wasn’t quite right.

“It already had,” he said finally. “It wasn’t a matter of letting it; by the time I noticed, it had already happened. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come over with the food.”

“But you did let it continue,” said Pansy. She wasn’t antagonising him, nor accusing him of anything. She looked amused, but not in a way that was at his expense. Pansy was both a twat and a fiercely good friend, the combination of which meant she would do nothing more or less than hold up a mirror and force you to look at yourself, gruesome as the experience inevitably wound up being. “Even after you realised he had feelings for you.”

Draco swallowed. He’d not heard it said aloud before now.

“Yes,” he said. “It felt good. Knowing he fancied me.”

* * *

Harry’s shameless in his staring.

He stands in the doorway of the ensuite bathroom and watches Draco like he’s been invited to do so. Draco pretends not to notice, stretched out in a tub full of bubbles facing the opposite way. There’s incense burning, and candles. Harry is completely silent, but Draco could feel those eyes on him from across a crowded hall.

They fucked a few hours ago and fell asleep afterwards. Draco pretended not to think about it, but had actually made the conscious decision to let Harry continue sleeping when he woke up and decided he wanted a bath.

When he can’t take it anymore he opens his eyes and tilts his head back and a little to the side, just enough that he gets Potter in his peripherals.

“Well?” he says. 

“Well what?”

“Join me, won’t you?”

Harry snorts. Then there’s a quiver of magic in the air, and a small, utilitarian chair appears out of thin air beside the tub. Harry sits down in it. He’s holding the joint they’d only gotten halfway through earlier. 

He’s in his jeans and nothing else, all limbs and sparse chest hair, and when he crosses a leg over the other one, elbow resting on his knee as he hits the joint, Draco feels a bone-deep attraction to him that’s beyond physical.

“May I?” Draco asks. Harry hands it over and Draco inhales deeply before returning it. The humidity of the room mixes with the smoke and the smell of marijuana, pungent and cloying like the flowers. 

After a length of silence, Draco says, “Will you read me something?”

“Will I what?”

He takes his wand from the floor and Summons a book from the shelf in his room — one of his poetry collections comes sweeping in through the cracked door and into Harry’s lap. Harry sticks the joint between his lips and starts rifling through it with his glasses all fogged up. 

When he starts reading Byron (“I had a dream, which was not all a dream”) Draco smiles and sinks deeper into the hot water and bubbles, letting Harry’s voice lull him into a pleasant stupor. 

 * * *

“So you led him on,” said Pansy. “Because you liked his attention.”

He stared at her, then let his gaze drop to his wine again. Had he?

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

“Well,” she said, smiling wryly, “I’m only saying it as you’ve told it to me. Maybe if it sounds bad, it is bad. Some things are that simple, darling. Unless there’s more to it.”

“Like what?” he said, not looking at her. There was a touch of pouty defiance in his voice he knew Pansy would detect instantly. He heard her sigh.

“What exactly happened yesterday, Draco? You didn’t give me any context.”

“What context do you need?” he muttered. “He told me he loved me.”

* * *

They’ve finished an entire bottle of wine between them. He’s not drunk, but he’s pleasantly buzzed. Harry’s sprawled on his back, T-shirt rucked up just below his navel so Draco can see the dark trail of hair leading below his jeans. There’s something implicitly erotic about the movement of his chest when he breathes, his hands folded behind his head, one leg stretched the length of the bed and the other bent at the knee.

He opens his eyes suddenly and grins when he sees Draco looking at him. 

“That wine just made me tired,” he says.

“So go to sleep,” says Draco. He takes a last swig, emptying it, and sets the bottle aside on his night table. He stretches his arms over his head and arches his back, yawning widely, thinking perhaps he’ll give into the tempting allure of sleep as well when Harry says, “I told Hermione about us.”

So he’s not sleeping, then. His stomach clenches hard and a completely irrational sense of panic rises in his throat.

“Us?” he says slowly, sitting up straighter. “What ‘us’?”

Harry looks at him upside-down, then rolls over and rises to his knees. He stares at Draco blankly.

“‘What us?’” he repeats.

“Yes,” says Draco. “What ‘us’?”

“Us,” Harry says. His voice is lower than usual. The word is starting to sound weird and lose meaning. “You and me, Draco.”

“‘You and me?’ Harry, there’s no you and me. We’re just fucking. What do you … what do you mean, you told Granger? Told her what?”

Harry looks … well, he looks fucking crushed. And angry. Draco forces himself not to look away.

“I told her I’d been seeing you,” he says quietly. There’s something … not threatening, but close to it, in his voice.

“Sure,” says Draco. “I see you three times a week, sometimes four. I s’pose if you feel the need to fill Granger in on everything you do with every second of your day —”

“Shut up, Draco,” Harry says. “You know what I meant.”

Draco glares at him. He gets off the bed, slightly lightheaded from the wine, horrified by the emotions welling up inside him right behind the panic, and he points at his bedroom door.

“Get out,” he says. 

“Are you serious?”

“Go!” he says loudly, voice rising. “If you’re gonna start turning this into something it definitely is not then get out of my flat, Potter.” As usual the window is open, but it’s the third of September and getting chilly finally and Draco’s Freesias and Freedom Roses started wilting last week. There’s a chilly breeze coming into that room that is utterly barren of the sweet smells of summer he associates with Harry these days. “It’s time we ended this anyway,” he says. “Summer’s over.”

“So?” From his position kneeling on Draco’s bed Harry shouldn’t feel imposing at all, but he does. There’s no sparkle of humour in his eyes, none of the softness Draco’s gotten used to seeing there. He looks like someone who’s realised they’ve been betrayed.

Worse than that. Someone who’s been betrayed and realises they should have seen it coming.

“What the fuck does summer have to do with anything?”

“Ever heard of a summer fling, Potter? We’re not ‘seeing each other’.”

Harry finally gets off the bed. Draco’s stomach clenches again, more painfully this time. He doesn’t feel bad, he tells himself — this is Harry’s fault. His fault for making a big deal out of something easy and fun and, most of all, temporary. For ruining this with feelings. 

 “That’s not what this was,” Harry says. It’s not an argumentative tone; rather, he sounds disappointed. Devastated, and disappointed. And that look of betrayal, like he’s surprised but not …  that  surprised.

That hurts. 

“This was as real as it gets, Draco,” he says matter-of-factly. “You and I don’t have the capability of doing anything as shallow as a fling.”

“Well, Potter,” says Draco, straining to maintain his level voice, “congratulations, because that is the most disgusting, romanticised, Gryffindorian piece of shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah?” He grabs up his wand from the bedside table and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. “Well here’s another: I love you. You complete fucking prick.”

Draco stares after him as he leaves the room, cowed for the moment. He hears Harry take the Floo powder off his mantle, hears the fire start, and then the sound of Potter disappearing. 

And he feels hollow suddenly.

* * *

“And he said it completely out of the blue?” 

Draco set his wine aside. He was suddenly feeling too sick to put anything else in his body.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “He was trying to make something out of nothing. He was just making a point, trying to guilt me, I don’t even think he meant it.”

Pansy said nothing for so long that Draco finally looked up. She had an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really believe that?” she said.

Draco didn’t answer right away. He glanced at the bottle of wine on the table and thought about the way it always tasted a little sweeter on Harry’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said. “No. But it doesn’t change anything. It was a summer thing, not a … a relationship, for crying out loud. Like I’d date Potter.”

“Why not?”

Draco scoffed. “Why not? Pansy, please. He’s a …”

“A …?”

“He’s an idiot! He’s Potter!  He’s …” He couldn’t think of the right word, something bad enough to express the audacity, the gall , for Potter to think even for a second  that they could …

“Draco Malfoy,” said Pansy. She was smirking. “You love him too.”

Had he felt sick before?  Now he was going to be sick.

“I never would’ve imagined it,” she went on, seeming to take pleasure from his outrage and humiliation. The bint. “Look at you, you’re blushing! Oh my god,” she laughed. And then she stopped laughing, and instead the weight of her own words appeared to descend on her. “Oh my god. You do, don’t you? You are arse over tits for Harry Potter —”

He was up and out of his chair before she’d finished the last word, absurdly,  embarrassingly on the verge of tears all of a sudden. 

“Draco —”

“I’m glad this can serve as your entertainment for the week, Pansy,” he said. A tear rolled down his cheek — could he be any more histrionic? — and he brushed it away furiously. 

“Draco, no —”

“Call Blaise, tell him!” he shouted. “You two can have a good laugh over it —”

“Draco  —”

“Poor Draco’s  fucked himself over again, what a stupid wanker!” 

Pansy got up. He slapped her hand away when she reached for him, but she only came at him again and grabbed it this time when he swatted at her, enfolding it in both of hers. He closed his eyes and hiccoughed and two more tears came.

“Darling, will you please listen to me?” she said softly. It sounded eerily like his mother, which only made him feel young and childish. He tugged his arm away and she let him go, but he didn’t move any farther away. “I am  not  laughing at you,” she told him. “Blaise might, but that’s because Blaise has a black hole for a heart, Draco, the only emotion he’s ever felt is disdain.” Against his will, Draco chuckled wetly. Pansy smiled and took his hand again, tentatively. He allowed it. “ I think it’s lovely that you have feelings for him. I don’t understand what’s got you so upset, I mean … I know it’s Potter, but we’re not teenagers anymore, right? Who cares?”

Draco exhaled a long sigh.

“He let my father go to Azkaban,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. He saw comprehension dawning. “How can I be with someone who could’ve saved my father’s life and chose not to, Pansy?”

“No one could have saved your father, Draco,” said Pansy gravely. His throat was tight, swollen. He hated that he was hanging on her words, looking for truth in them,  wanting to hear something that would make this okay. “He would have done the same thing if they’d let him go back to the manor. It’s not your fault or your mum’s or Potter’s.”

“But —”

“But what?” she cut him off sharply. “Draco, please don’t let your father keep controlling your life from the grave! My god, you deserve happiness, don’t you see that? Even if it’s Potter! In fact, I … I think that could be really good.”

“What, being with Potter?”

“Yes, being with Potter,” she said. “Darling, I say this because I love you: you need to grow a pair of bollocks and start taking control of your own life. I’m not finished!” she added when he opened his mouth to retort. “I understand that it feels like a betrayal of your father, I do, and I’m not saying you can’t have your cherished memories of him, but Draco … you cannot live your life in his shadow, doing things because it’s what he’d want or wouldn’t want. I think that choosing to explore these feelings you have for Potter is the bravest and healthiest thing you could possibly do for yourself.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes wet though the tears had stopped falling. 

“What if it doesn’t last?” he said finally. “What if next week he realises it was a huge mistake?”

“First of all, I doubt that,” said Pansy with a roll of her eyes that was clearly meant to be teasing. “You said you’ve been seeing him all summer, that’s plenty of time to have gotten sick of you. And, even if that did happen, I still think it would be entirely worth that week of being disgustingly in love.”

“Do you?” he drawled.

“Yes! I do!” She picked up his discarded wine glass from before and held it up. “Does the effect of alcohol last forever?”

“No …”

“Of course not! And we don’t expect it to. We expect to have fun while we’re drunk and it’ll last as long as it lasts.”

“Dating someone isn’t like being drunk, Pansy,” Draco said sourly.

“Oh, that’s not the point ,” she huffed. “We don’t do things because we know they’ll last forever, we do them because we want to. In the moment.”

“Sounds irresponsible.”

“Well, of course it is,” she scoffed. “Love is completely irresponsible, that’s the fun of it, Draco. Now take this,” she shoved the glass of wine into his hand, almost spilling it. “Drink up, and then get your arse over to his flat and fix this.”

* * *

Granger opened the door. Draco sighed.

“Hello, Granger,” he said lamely. Her raised eyebrows said she was surprised and thoroughly unimpressed by his appearance.

“Malfoy,” she said.

“Is Potter in?”

“I guess that depends.”

“On?”

She looked at him, dark brown eyes impenetrable. Then she closed the front door behind her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To talk to him,” he said tightly. As if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough, now he had to pass a test to get past Granger the bridge troll. “I thought he told you —”

“He did,” she said flatly. “And about yesterday.”

“Well I’m here to apologise,” said Draco. Granger’s eyebrows lifted again. Still unimpressed. “And to tell him …” He sighed again and broke eye contact, willing himself not to give up, not to take this as a sign he should just go home and ream into Pansy for giving him such bad advice.

“Malfoy.” He looked up. Her voice was softer now, and her eyes seemed a little less hard. “What are you doing? You really hurt him, you know.”

“I know,” he said stiffly. “I said I’m here to apologise.”

“Well he doesn’t need an apology,” she said. “If you’re only going to let him down again —”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at her again, exasperated, defeated. “I’ve … had some sense talked into me.”

She looked like it was the last thing she’d been expecting. 

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he said. “So would you please get him for me before I lose my nerve?”

It was the right thing to say. Her expression melted into something much softer and he fancied he even saw the beginnings of a smile.

“Can I ask who affected this change of heart?”

“Pansy,” he said. And, when Granger seemed taken aback, “She’s very wise when she feels like it.”

“I see. Well …” She still looked a bit conflicted, eyeing him and then putting her hand on the doorknob. “All right. I’ll tell him you’re here, anyway, but he was really hurt, Malfoy. I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said.

Granger eyed him another moment and then went back inside, shutting the door behind her. Draco only had to wait a minute before it was opening again, and this time Harry came out. The sight of him made Draco’s heart feel tender and sore.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Potter.”

He waited to see if Harry would say anything else but he didn’t. He only stared at Draco expectantly, arms folded, in all ways closed off.

“I came to apologise,” said Draco.

“Well you can keep it,” said Harry. “I don’t need an apology because you told me the truth.”

“It wasn’t the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. “Opposite, really.”

Harry was silent. Then, “You made me feel like shit, Draco.”

“I know. I’m sorry. You freaked me out, springing it on me like that.”

A beat, then two, and then suddenly Harry was dropping his arms and sighing and he looked at Draco with so much vulnerability he nearly had to turn away from it.

“I didn’t mean to tell you …” He licked his lips, scratched his arm. It reminded Draco that beneath everything, Harry was still the same awkward dorky leader-of-the-losers he’d always been, just with a bit more confidence now and the title of Official Saviour of the Wizarding World. “I wouldn’t have said that if … I was just angry.”

He didn’t need to ask what Harry was referring to.

“I know.”

“Not that I didn’t … I mean, I … I do —”

“Please don’t say it again,” Draco said. Harry laughed.

“Right. I just meant … I really do have feelings for you, Draco. Like … mad, crazy feelings, y’know? I don’t want it to be a fling.”

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said. He moved a little closer and Harry watched him carefully, eyes flickering once down to Draco’s mouth. “I didn’t even sleep with anyone else the whole time.”

“Well that’s good to know,” said Harry sardonically. But he was smiling, so Draco found himself smiling tentatively as well.

“I wanna be with you, Potter. Properly. I thought …” But he shakes his head, deciding that now isn’t the time to explain about his father. “I thought it was a stupid idea. Now I realise that it probably is, but that I don’t really care much. I’ve decided to ignore my better judgment this one time.”

“That’s quite Gryffindor of you,” Harry commented drily.

“Yes, well.”

“So I go against your better judgment, then?”

“Potter,” Draco sighed. “Please, I don’t mean it like —”

“I’m taking the piss, Draco,” Harry cut him off. He reached for Draco’s waist and pulled him close, and before Draco could get his breath back from a short, surprised intake of breath Harry’s mouth was on his, warm and familiar and soothing. He brought his hands to Harry’s face and kissed back without bothering to hide his overwhelming relief.

Harry chased his mouth when he pulled away and Draco breathed out a laugh, holding him at bay with a hand on his chest. 

“We have plenty of time,” he said. “D’you wanna come over later tonight, after your friends leave?”

“What? No, come in.” He took Draco’s hand and gestured with his head towards the door. “Please. It’s just Ron and Hermione. They know everything.”

“Really?” Draco drawled. “And you think Weasley won’t try to kill me?”

“I promise not to let him,” Harry grinned. “Please, Draco. You said you wanted to do this properly, right?”

He thought of what Pansy said about being irresponsible, and decided it was worth a try at least.

“Okay,” he said. Harry beamed and tugged him inside.

Towards his ultimate downfall or towards the beginning of the rest of his life, he didn’t know. That, as Pansy would have said, was the fun of it.