#and this obvi takes place on an early nov 1st morning

[ms0milk]

rabbit rabbit

| maki x fem reader

a/n: halloween is my favorite holiday and i love my wife

cw: drunk fem reader, sober maki, teeny tiny mentions of a party, some biting, much pining (reader+maki aren't dating), author uses sorcerer wife to tease horny readers

(third year Maki & co. all characters +18)

2.3k

Your only job is to lean your chest into hers. That's it. Nothing fancy. Maki has two strong hands locked under your ass and a happy mouthful of your hair. You, on the other hand, can barely keep one arm wrapped around her neck. Not that it would make carrying you any easier– regardless of whether or not you cooperate Maki could always toss you around effortlessly enough.

You sink your face deeper and deeper into her shoulder. Try to keep your legs wrapped around her waist. Her rhythmic canter keeps you just on the right side of the battle between sleepy and nauseous.

“Oi,” she growls low and close like she doesn’t know any other way to speak quietly, “Still with me angel?”

Depth perception would be so lovely right now.

“Mak..d’call m tha…”

Your voice is muffled in the collar of her jacket but she hears you clearly enough. Weaving through quiet Tokyo back alleys, Maki hops a bit every now and then to keep you from slipping bonelessly out of her arms and into some glitter filled sewer grate. Shibuya is never her idea of a good time on Halloween, but Nobara insists every year. And this year she’s the only one that stayed sober enough to keep an eye on you.

“What are these supposed to be then?” Maki adjusts her grip under your thighs and traces the tip of your cheap feathered costume wings with a finger. You groan. She chuckles.

“Y’already know Mak, s..s’not funny..”

Your little plastic horns keep poking her in the neck.

“What? Your costume?

“N’one got it.”

Maki contains her laughter if only to keep you from getting sick down the front of her favorite jacket and presses her cheek into yours. Whether you know it or not you start swinging your legs which Maki can only stop by clamping down on them with her biceps before she continues, “You only let Megumi guess and he's never even seen a buffalo wing- you're too stubborn. Lucky you're so cute.” She's embolden by the idea you might not remember any of this in the morning.

Tucked away, she can’t quite see your face but she can hear your smile when you mumble, “..clever ‘uh?”

“Hm? You think you’re clever?”

You slur a mmhm into her chest and drape both your arms limply around her neck in victory, which only makes keeping her heart from bursting out of her ribs slightly more difficult than it already is. One of your hands fiddles with the hair at the base of her neck while she works to keep moving in a straight line.

One, two, three steps up the front entrance of the school and one more hop to keep you in her arms. Four steps to round the corner, six stairs up the front of the residence building, and what feels like a half marathon to the third-year dorms. Counting is the only thing that keeps Maki’s mind off of how furious Nobara's Kiki is going to be when she realizes her Jiji left the party early to carry the lightweight home. Her cat-ear headband has traveled halfway down the side of her face from your constant fiddling fingers and she’s not sure you aren’t chewing on it.

“Home again, home again,” she whispers when, finally, blessedly, the pair of you are standing in front of your bedroom door. She holds you up with one hand and cracks the door with the other, slipping inside quietly, “C'mon Y/n, bedtime.”

You take that as a cue to dismount and lean back in her arms, not too worried about how you’re going to stick the landing. Maki takes a panicked step sideways to sandwich you between her hips and the wall.

“S’bed..time,” you parrot.

She exhales, “Operative word being bed.” And folds herself back under you to peel you both away from the wall.

The heartbeat in her chest presses into your ribs and her breath tickles across your ear. Your legs dangle in the air. Her Halloween costume is just a flimsy excuse to wear all black, but you couldn’t help smiling into your drink all night whenever she struck a pose with Kugisaki for a photo. Devilish smirk and her hands pointed like ears above her head. Sometimes she’d poke her tongue out or flash a grin with her all-too-convincing fangs, and still always direct her glance to you even when you weren’t the one taking the photo.

Megumi got wasted quietly, but pretty immediately at the busy bar Kugisaki scoped out days ago, which meant Yuuji had his drunken hands full keeping his friend upright, and Toge had his hands full keeping the two of them from staring into each other’s eyes for too long. Lest they rip each other’s costumes off on the dance floor.

You can’t quite remember what Maki was doing tonight beside standing in a crowd looking sultry. Or keeping an eye on Nobara's glass when she left the group to dance with a boy or two. This can’t be a step up from booze-guard. Scooping you off a bar stool and carrying you home. 

“M’okay,” You grumble and think about slipping down the wall away from her. For a second you think you have, but you’re still in her arms against the wall when she leans deep into you– face and hair tucked perfectly into the crook of your neck– shoulders swallowing you into her chest– flat hands strong and broad against your back and under your ass.

“C’mere Y/n,” she growls again, “hold onto my jacket.” So you do.

Even with the lights off your room is clean enough for her to navigate to the bed without tripping. She feels bad about her shoes on your floor.

“Maki...I’m ok.”

If she hears your quiet voice in the breast of her jacket, she doesn’t let on. Is she mad at you? Her knees bump your mattress and she breathes again, “Final stop of the night.”

Is she mad at you?

Her stupid painted whiskers. Dumb sexy studded leather jacket and those fucking boots. Her sneaky, toothy, competitive, triumphant, arrogant grin. And her hands on your body. You don’t want any of that to be angry with you.

“Mak I–”

She migrates an arm under your thigh and hitches your legs to her hips when she leans into the bed so you don't just crumple.

“Maki..”

She presses you both into the swell of quilt atop of your sheets, chest to chest and hip to hip. When your back is flat against the blankets, she slips her hands away from your waist and moves to unhook your fingers from her clothes. You think she’s trying to sit up. You can’t see straight through dizzy drink and the fact that the lights are still off, but with your bodies so close like this you can slip your hands inside her jacket and bring them together around her. To keep her from leaving. She’s huffing some more, or maybe laughing or rolling her eyes. You don’t want to find out. You sneak your fingers under the loose hem of her shirt and drag the tops of your nails softly up her back. She shudders.

“Y/n,” she tries to shift free– tangled awkwardly on top of you and still somewhat on her feet– but you slid your legs up either side of her, high enough to wrap them around. They slip a little in your sloppy state, but find enough purchase in the meat of her thighs for you to squeeze her tight and close. She exhales a shallow breath, “Y/n, we gotta take your shoes off.”

She’s right. You roll your hips up to get your legs a closer together but you aren’t quite coordinated enough to nudge your own shoes off toe-to-heel. You give up.

“M’sorry Mak.”

This makes her chest rattle. With laughter or anger?

Your small voice swells her heart. The rolling of your body and press of your every inch into her tickles the back of her throat like a gasp. She feels your cold fingerprints mindlessly trace and scratch her bare skin and when you reach high enough, the touch sends a shower of goosebumps down from her nape. She’s sober and you’re safe, but she’s not okay. Do you realize that every time you breathe with her crushing you like this, you whimper a little?

She turns her head, in your silly tight grip, right against your earlobe to try and reason with you, “Let go.”

“Maki..sorry, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” she rumbles again and she’s smiling now against your cheek. You take a few seconds to form a thought and she passes the time by blowing softly against your ear to feel you shiver. She likes the way your fingers curl.

“..Maki I…” You’ve murmured her name tonight more than you’ve said it outright in the past week. You trail off into your thoughts.

“Sit up for me Y/n.”

You don’t budge, but you’re not heavy. Maki sinks to her knees so that her hips are level with your mattress, and your body, still wrapped stubbornly around hers, follows until you’re sat on your butt in bed and leaning upright against her. Your legs slip from her waist. Are you asleep?

With your cheek on her shoulder she’s able to get you free of your crushed and crumpled angel wings. Next your jacket– wait, Yuuji’s jacket, she notes– and your horns. Then your shoes. She reaches sideways as best she can without letting you fall off her shoulder and onto the floor, and pulls your sneakers off from the heel. You’ll be mad when you realize she wore her shoes inside and put you to bed in the clothes you wore out, but the idea of taking off your shirt with her own hands makes her head pound. Your skirt was already hiked up high enough for her hands to be full of ass the whole way home. She really did try to ignore it.

“s’bedtime Mak.”

“You read my mind.”

She cups your cheek in a warm worn hand and brushes her thumb under your eye until you raise your head. A string of drool pulls from your lips to her jacket and she only catches it because of the stream of moonlight that pours into your room when you stay up late enough to see it.

She shifts her thumb from your cheek to your chin and swipes once over your bottom lip to wipe away the spittle. You catch her. With your teeth.

Your eyes are barely half open and your fingers are still playing with the hem of her shirt– you couldn't even manage to touch your own feet together five seconds ago, but you somehow have enough coordination to catch her fingers in your mouth and hold them there. Saliva drips over your teeth and down her nail. Then it’s moist against her skin. Your mouth is hot and your breath is sweet and for a split second she wants to know what your tongue would feel like if she pressed a finger into it. To see if your mouth overflowed wet around it. She sits still and watches it flick behind your teeth, wishing it would just–

She flinches when your fingertips brush against her stomach, regaining sanity, “Nope.” She frees herself from your bite, “no, no.” And pushes you back onto your bed. She swings your feet up to follow the rest of you so that you’re finally horizontal.

You catch her sleeve this time when she gets too close and when she looks down to ease you off, you’re covering your eyes with your other arm. You shudder. She gives in.

Maki kneels next to your bed one last time, ignoring your messy hair that she’s too shy to tie back neatly, and the new dribble of saliva that she’s not going to try to clean again. You murmur her name into the crook of your elbow. Once, then twice, each time significantly less intelligible than the last.

She’s almost in the clear. You bring one of your legs up to get comfortable and flash the soft skin at the very top of your thigh. She tries to take her arm back, “C’mon angel, be good.”

Your fingers stiffen at the name. You curl deeper into your own shoulder and whisper, just on the cusp of sleep, “..mean..it.”

She leans in to try and hear you clearly, worried you’re feeling sick. But before she can speak you roll your head back towards her, eyes closed, lips parted, nearly asleep, and breathe, “Say it, Maki..”

“What?”

In a faraway part of her mind, she wishes you were this helpless a little more often. Even if it made her heart ache. She rests her chin on your bed when your hand finally goes slack and her arm is freed. She waits a second longer to see if you’ll finish your thought.

“Angel...Maki.”

“Say angel?”

She lets you trace your blind sleepy fingers up her neck and behind her ear and tries to melt into your fingertips. You’re not grabbing or clinging, just gently touching and she knows now’s her chance to leave but she’s too busy weighing the pros and cons of sleeping on your floor to pull away before you finish speaking.

“Mmhm,” your voice is awfully sweet, “say it like ya’ mean it.”

…

A pillow replaces her easily enough once you finally surrender to sleep. Maki clicks on your nightlight and stands soft guard for a second in the doorway while you wrap yourself limply around the pillowcase. You mumble her name again. It’s too quiet for her to hear. Or maybe it’s in your head. Maki, in a heavy leather jacket and bulky combat boots, holds her cat ear headband in clammy hands and watches you sleep for just a few more seconds before knocking her head into your doorframe on her way to a very long and very hot shower.

happy halloween-recovery day ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა