#(lmao i almost skipped this one but i was like 'shit i need to set up this other thing more')

[greyias]

Writing Share Tag

I'm so far behind in tags and stuff! I have spent most of the summer for some reason in a fugue just staring off into the distance for some reason. But! I have summoned my brain a little to answer at least one! Tagged by @starknstarwars -- thank you for the tag! Anyone who wants to share, please feel free to tag yourself in.

I'm just as behind on my writing as I am on my tags, and I genuinely can't remember if I shared any of this previously, but here's a little bit from the half-finished next chapter of the forever WIP that is Smoke and Mirrors. The fic I will probably be slowly writing on until my grave despite that it has a very clear ending in mind.

Dusk had settled across the Mercantile Plaza in full by the time Theron arrived back at the safehouse. The cool, blue-tint of the streetlights dogged Theron’s steps as he darted through alleys and backstreets. It wasn’t a straightforward path, mostly as a way to throw his potential tail off the track and keep the location of his temporary base hidden. Given that the Plaza was basically a small island, there was only so far he could go to do so, but he’d doubled back several times, and took a few extra twists and turns just to be sure he’d shaken the Sith.

By the time he’d slipped into the safehouse door and pulled up the surveillance feeds on the cafe, Darok and Arokous had long left their table and retired back to their rooms for the night. Unfortunately he couldn’t do the same. At least not yet.

He needed to slap together some programming to alert him if anyone matching Arkous and Darok’s description left their rooms. Figure out the identity of the Sith at the cafe. And, to his great chagrin, prevent another close call like tonight and get his much needed Jedi backup here on planet. Not in that particular order necessarily, but it all needed to be done.

“Be proud of me, Balkar,” Theron muttered as he began to pull up the Defender’s current berthing, “I’m bringing a ‘date’ just like you wanted me to.”

Damn, he was talking to an imaginary Jonas Balkar shaped friend now. He really needed to get out more. He also tried to valiantly ignore how much that particular thought sounded like the imaginary man in question.

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

—or: tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick.

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[thespiral]

👾 for Fresno! Or if you feel like a different barbie, have at it. I'm ready for the Symbolism and the Themes ´･ᴗ･`

for you my friend. extra barbie on the house.

FRESNO: Bat Out of Hell - Meatloaf

*1,000,000 visitor alarm goes off* OH BABY YOU GOT ONE OF THEM FUNDAMENTAL SONGS. bat out of hell was one of THEE ingredients to make Fresno what they are today even if it was base and not like, the deeply complex disaster they are today along with golden age of leather and power underneath despair böc. but it's still a good way to sort of connect them down to the 80s roots and shit

so bat out of hell is out of a concept album about Guy Who Dies in Motorcycle Crash but nobody said it could be a Metaphysical Guy Who Dies In Motorcycle Crash. this song is bittersweet because it encapsulates what Fresno is down to the tragedy of it all. and it's mwah.

honestly i can see this as like, sort of the Moment it all happens and the repetition of that moment in their story, in my head the foiled escape attempt from either the mojave/prison is sort of like on motorcycle and someone shoots them down, is it ncr? legion? who knows, but there's evil in the air and man with a gun in his eye and a the death of someone in the street. this can be Fresno as an 80s, since the Sac-Town raid was sort of. coming of age as a Man:tm: thing Hellmouth set up for them but also the death of their independent self as they're dragged further into the legion. frogs in a boiling pot.

so it DEFINITELY depends who they're with if the first 4 lines apply because "pure and good and right" LMAO (maybe in his own perspective but shhh) but there's the connection between Fresno and Hell, as a devil and outsider and sinner, out of hell, if you will. and you know, the many meanings of out of hell.

we'll both be so alone. and it's true! even if they are the one that mostly sabotages and breaks it off, that doesn't deny that they'll be so fucking alone when the light of day comes along. nocturnal by need, even. i like the idea of Fresno being partially a mirror of someone's deeply repressed feelings because Fresno allows themself to feel even if some things are off limits because their ass doesn't do introspection but someone so bolted together that they aren't willing to admit to themself that they're lonely? smile

so Fresno returning is a very Strange phenomenon, i haven't had it in mind that they attempted to escape other times in their story but. honestly who knows, maybe they did, maybe a Certain Someone catches up and uses his funny skills to bring them in further. something something fishing metaphor and tiring the prey out. you understand.

i also like the idea of Fresno taking the bait because who else waits for them. who else seems to care about them. haha. hahahha. lmao.

Fresno jetting off from their positions, hitting the highway in the road to destiny in the only way they know how, going upstream. nothing ever grows in this rotting old hole and every person they meet may be stunted and lost and it's not worth to stay with Hell on Wheels, what have they done for them, anyway. maybe they'll be evil if they do, maybe they're doomed to die, but they were taught to be ruthless and fuck they will be ruthless to them as well.

and the scenario repeats almost a decade later and... well.

they'll escape, no matter if their wounds are raw and open and htey're leaving behind something they like, they'll be eaten alive if they stay [which. true, to an extent] but. but.

the moment of hesitation, i can't stop thinking of you, that slight moment of vulnerability that makes them collapse and hit the sudden curve.

it's a moment i've always wanted to illustrate because just. the way it's presented, the way the singer ACKNOWLEDGES that they never see the sudden curve until they're about to crash, that hesitation that leads to the death. MWAH. cinema. and if you, the reader, don't listen to any song but a chunk of one i IMPLORE you to listen to it and skip ahead to 6:10 and listen to that guitar work. THE IMPLIED CRASH!! THE MOTORCYCLE SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL IN GUITAR!!!!! it drives me INSANE every single time. that is todd rundgren's talent for you. i've always wanted to capture that moment because it's just soooo cinematic and the leadup makes me think of someone taking aim before shooting them down

both a near death experience and the death of one aspect to be changed into another. metaphysical death of a bike crash. obviously the result varies on what happens but just like the shock, the experience, seeing yourself out of body being dragged away to be imprisoned [again] and tolling a bell for themself. ough. ough. ough. the tragedy of it all.

what is meant to be cathartic and a release turns into being brought back to hell, endless cycles and their attempts to escape them and all. ough

+ BONUS

AUSTIN: Electric Eye - Judas Priest [old art alert]

i haven't taken him out of the box in a longgg time but fun fact, he was my first courier! way back when i was a little new vegas baby, a new baby if you will, he was supposed to be like this morally good ncr-independent courier who's main goal is Fix the NCR from the inside. obviously i know now that it was an impossible dream but as i've kinda retouched upon it i've turned down his morals and turned up his fanaticism towards the ncr and now he's basically head of Ministry of Propaganda- i mean public relations of ncr.

he's a synth and has a tendency to go full ham in the fanaticism regardless of what he's cheering for, and ended up latching on to the ncr after [i think] being implanted with ncr citizen memories. his main job is mostly spin doctor, trying to make the mojave campaign appealing to brahmin barons and others for funding back in the ncr as kind of a newscast radio guy, i like to think him as a lesser head in the hydra of the ncr but nevertheless still sending out people to die in the desert

i really like the big brother is watching theming because i like to take some cues from cold war-era usa to the ncr because like looking at curtis i think there should be like some kinda paranoia/red scare sentiment back at the ncr and he's just here to be my lore puppet for it

and as a guy literally being in charge of the news, uh, expect a lot of watchful eyes. he's funny because he's kind of more or less literally a terminator but he's just chilling in the hub while others die for his cause and i know i'm heavy handed about it. but!

he certainly keeps his republic clean. smile

[luckyqueenreign]

Hello o/ I'm the same anon who asked you about the shitshow that s5 was, and omg people really didn't exaggerate lmao, I read every single sentence and really understood why it was such a garbage. It's really sad that Fusebox got so much onto anti-consumer shit (Really?? Not giving the MC agency?? In a game about choices??) Everyone at the villa sounds like an bully asshole, even the supposed LIs.

The plot reads like the writers had a vague idea but changed their minds on the direction nearly every episode, and to get where they wanted they needed to force the player. It had a god awful result.

I know S6 isn't the best either (Having Amelia shoved into you bc ✨Twins✨ while she kissed like two guys you liked behind your back was super obnoxious, also the repeatedly Zeph mention) but I think I did a good call skipping s5 to s6. Also s5 mc was pretty ugly imo, at least s6 could be fixed with the bangs.

Sheesh, I miss Bobby now.

Thank you a lot, again!!!!

bestie just be glad you didnt subject yourself to that hot ass dumpster fire of a season. Lowkey the only reason why I even finished it was because of my Tumblr friends...the shared camaraderie of just being mentally abused on a weekly basis by a game that was supposed to be fun!! LOL

s6 sucked too but it was alot better than 5 so it's almost excusable off that alone lol. i totally agree they leaned in on the twin thing too much it was unbearable. And no one needed a second set of twins!! The Zeph thing will go down as one of the most useless plots of all time...like whyyyy?!

of course babe 💖

[dsnzfb]

Lavender In Bloom

It's been, like, forever since I've written anything, but I've been In The Mood recently and churned this out.

OC writing, they belong to both my friend and I, but they don't mind that I'm using him for this.

M/M allergies snzfic, mutual pining and other idiocies, aka, I'm shaking them both and pushing them together for being stupid.

WARNING THIS IS A SNEEZE FIC!!! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT THIS WAY INCLINED!!!

Also Rose is a snzfucker. Cactus is allergic. Yes they're both named after plants.

Words: bout 8k or so, apparently (edit: I read the character count as a word count lmao it is NOT that long)

It was 7:58 in the morning, a perfectly fine time to be awake, according to Rose, the florist who was just about to open up for the day. He brushed off jokes about such a 'girly' name, or how fitting it was for owning a flower shop with a smile and a laugh. He'd heard them hundreds of times by now, but he didn't mind. Not really.

Just like he didn't mind the half asleep grumbles from his favourite barista when he picked up a coffee before work. Poor thing clearly wasn't a morning person, yet he was regularly there, making the commute to work more bearable for countless people. The man had gotten used to Rose's presence, able to predict when he'd arrive, and gently chide him when he was a few minutes late. Today was not one of those days, thank goodness, the Brit thought, with a smile on his face and a coffee in his hand.

The reason for his particularly chipper demeanour today was down to the new stock he'd gotten in. He was always happy when his shop was fully restocked, it smelled amazing and looked just as good. To go with it were some hand embroidered handkerchiefs, they always went well with wedding bouquets, or even to just have around. They were all sat in nice piles beside the flowers they represented, like the lavender he'd just replenished, or the daffodils which were just coming into season.

Rose wondered if life would ever get better than this.

He opened the shop.

The day was going relatively well by the time that a familiar face entered the store at around noon, looking around like a lost animal. The barista from the coffee shop, what was his name? Rose had heard the others call him 'Cac', so he assumed that was it for now. For as many times as he'd been served by him, he never got his name. Never looked at the badge, really. He was too busy looking at his face, cute and chubby with jagged vitiligo marks down his cheeks, pink eyes framed with half-moon glasses, all topped off with platinum blond, slicked back hair.

Rose briefly wondered what it would look like without the gel, heart skipping a beat.

"Hello, welcome!" He called out his usual greeting, observing the man. Now he was actually inside, he looked almost... Distracted. His pretty pink eyes widened as he spotted... Something? And panic seemed to set in. The barista's chest started to heave, his eyes fluttering.

Was he okay? Did he need a doctor? Oh, please don't throw up in a plant pot...

He seemed to hurriedly grab something from the table he was stood by, unable to really see what he was doing as his eyes refused to stay open any longer. Wait, was that a handkerchief? Was he going to-

"Hh-hha-HHAAEETSHOOoh!! HhraASSHHHIEW-! AAHhtT-TTt-!!" His breath shuddered, "-TtsHHHOOOOo!!!"

Oh.

Rose was quiet for a moment, his heart fluttering. The cute barista came in and just had a sneezing fit?? Was he dreaming? Did he take a midday nap by accident?

"B-Bless you, Sir...!" Rose forced out, trying to keep his own breathing even as he secured the beautiful memory away in his mind for later consideration.

The barista - Cac - seemed to not hear Rose's blessing, sniffling against the handkerchief and rubbing his teary eyes. Slowly realising what just transpired, he stepped away from the table, and realised what he was holding.

"...Nngh- oh, geez..." He grumbled, "Shit..."

"...Sir?" Rose tried again, smiling in sympathy when his new customer jolted in surprise.

"Uh- s-sorry, uh- I'll pay for it..." Another sniffle, "I didn't... I'm... S-sorry- hhmmppSSH!!"

"Bless you. Are you quite all right?"

Rose was in heaven. Of course this man was all right. He was perfect.

"Y-Yeah, I'm o-okay... Just, uh... Allergic." Cac rubbed his eyes again and looked over at the table he was stood by. The lavender.

Oh, good lord.

Hot barista - hot allergic barista - was now stood in front of Rose, looking around at the flowers by him. Which handkerchief had he-

Of course it was the lavender one. Oh, how life tortured him. He wondered if the barista knew that it likely had pollen on it from being placed right next to it and the lavender itself being jostled from the customers so far.

"Can-" Rose cleared his throat, trying not to sound absolutely destroyed by the sight in front of him, "Can I help you, Sir?"

The barista felt too guilty to blow his nose yet, sniffling and hiding behind the handkerchief. "Y-Yeah, uh... I..."

Was he feeling nervous?

"I need to pay for this... Sorry for takin' it."

Who said he could be so cute?

"I planned on doing this kinda differently..." Another sniffle, "But.. I...."

"Bless you." Rose offered in advance.

"NngGGSHH! HhaaAAEETSHHH!! NNgghHGT- NNGXXXT-!!" He sneezed against the handkerchief over and over, trying to stifle them into submission. Oh, he'd messed up. Again.

Cactus had been trying to say something to the regular customer for weeks now, but whenever he appeared, Cac was either half asleep, or busy, or just too nervous to speak up. It was no coincidence that he ended up serving Rose every time he was in, thanks to his matchmaker-like coworkers. Thanks, guys.

"Don't worry about it." Rose was... Smiling? "Keep it, don't worry about paying."

How was he so sweet? Unfair.

Cactus cleared his own throat, "I insist. A-and, uh... I.... A-also insist... That... I give you my n-n-number...." The last part was mumbled, barely audible behind the embroidered handkerchief.

He would never let his coworkers give him pick up advice ever again.

Rose stared at him, frozen in place.

"Sir...?"

Oh, shit. Wait.

"Cactus. M-my name."

"....Cactus."

Rose was screaming internally. The hot barista, Cac- no, Cactus, was here, somewhere he was CLEARLY very very allergic to... to give Rose his number?!

What?!

Face as red as his hair, Rose scribbled on a business card and handed it to the man in front of him.

"M-my personal number. Um- my name is on there, and you know it already from, um, my orders, but it's Rose."

Cactus was quiet. He had obtained Rose's number instead of giving his own to him. So he had to be the one to contact him. Oh god.

"Why..." Rose started, gaining Cactus's attention, "Haven't you asked me before? I mean, at your work."

He motioned to the flowers all around, "I didn't know that you were allergic, but you knew, and you came here anyw-"

"Hha-AaeeSSHHUHH!! AaASHHUUH!!"

"...Yeah."

Cactus blew his nose in the handkerchief to try and remove the pollen currently attacking his nose, "Lots of reasons. Mostly teasing from my colleagues, the bastards..."

Rose giggled nervously with a nod, "I've always wondered if you swung that way, you know."

"M-Me too!" Cactus burst out, the handkerchief still clamped over his nose as he tried to rub away the persistent tickle.

Rose raised an eyebrow. "Really? You didn't know? It seems I have to rethink my flirting strategies... Do I really look like I could be straight...?"

A stuffy sigh came from the other man, "Well, I mean, I didn't wanna assume. What if you were just bein' friendly so I don't spit in your coffee?"

Rose snorted. Oh, this man was like a dream. A cute little dense dream.

"I await your call. Or text. Though I'll warn you, I'm terrible with technology. Now, um- if that's everything, you should probably..."

"H-hhah-"

Rose tensed up as he watched Cactus gear up for another fit.

"...Hha-aah- hhaaiih- hhAAIISHH!! HHATSHHOO! AAESHHOOH!! Ohgod- GGSSHHHUU! A-A-aa-... A-ah... AahHKSSHOoh!!"

"....Bless you. You should get away from all this pollen."

"It's mbostly the lavedder I'b allergic to..." Cactus snuffled against the cloth, eyes streaming itchy tears.

Holding back a laugh, Rose responded, "Then you'll be devastated to hear that those handkerchiefs are probably covered in its pollen. Keep it, but you should wash it soon or you'll... You'll just keep sneezing."

"...Right. That..." The shorter man blew his nose again, "That makes sense. If you're really sure I can have this, then- uh- I'll be in touch. Sorry for bein' such a mess, what a terrible first impression."

Ignoring the fact that he'd been served many times before now, Rose waved him away with a smile.

"Feel better, Cactus."

[rise-fall-rage-and-repeat]

AFHDJCKSCJEO SOMEONE ELSE HEADCANNONS THIS TOO???????? IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE!!!!! HANG ON I GOTTA WORD VOMIT!!!!

ALSO THIS ART IS SO CUTE?! LIKE???? PLEASE!!!!

An Analysis of Gargoyles, Season 1, Episode 7, Temptation:

And yes, I mean the WHOLE episode, fight me!

(Skip to the asterisks if you want to just get to the analysis of Brooklyn and Demona’s relationship.)

Gotta love the shade the trio throw at each other in the beginning of this episode. And setting Brooklyn up as the character that ABSOLUTELY stole the show is 👌🏼 *chef’s kiss* Setting him up as the “bad boy” trope is quality shit with such a snarky, but kind character, and I WILL die on this hill. Am I biased? MAYBE. I neither confirm nor deny.

Anyway.

A liiiiiitle sus that Brooklyn knew IMMEDIATELY how to ride a motorcycle. Love you boo, but what kind of sorcery?

Did Elisa not think to mention to the trio about speed limits? Like, it took some time for Lex to learn how to and then BUILD the bike. It actually took 4 days (Yes I realize Brooklyn could have learned to ride a motorcycle in this time shut up-). Remember, he can only work at night. (I’m just now realizing how fucking GENIUS Lex is cause what?!) Anyway my POINT here is: Girl, did you not think to tell the gargoyle equivalent of college age boys about SPEED LIMITS?! Also where’d they get the gas from? And Jesus when did they fill the tank?! Cause the beginning of this episode Lex was using a blowtorch! ON THE BIKE! DID IT HAVE A FULL TANK THEN???? HIS ASS IS NOT BEING SAFE.

ANYWAY.

DAMN! Nice moves Brooklyn! (*cough, conveniently placed ramp at the end of an alley, cough* What? I didn’t say anything…)

Love Morgan’s “cop loves doughnuts” joke. (As the daughter of a cop it feels like it resonates… idk... Lmao)

These bikers are REALLY dumb if they didn’t realize Brooklyn wasn’t human until he took off the helmet. Like really? The beak wasn’t a give away? Like if it were Lex or Broadway, with more human looking faces (the colour of their skin could be explained by a mask or paint or the lighting), then sure, okay. But. The beak…

Never mind…

It’s a conveniently placed ramp at the end of an alley…

PLOT ADVANCEMENT!!!

We carry on…

This sweet boy literally says “I was just trying to fit in!” And then gets literally DOG PILED. (Gargoyles are strong but. That was a LOT of BIG men. I know, I know “it’s a cartoon”, “it’s a joke”. But, that’s not really Gargoyles’s vibe or style. It just feels really out of place…)

This fool really thinks a WRENCH is gonna do ANYTHING in this situation. Brooklyn literally FLIPS this man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (Brooklyn said YEET).

When I tell you the very first time I ever saw this episode (I was like, maybe two?) the GASP I made when the bike exploded would have broken a kazoo it was so forceful.

Core memory.

I really wish they had tried to hide the fact that it was Demona a little better.

I DESPERATELY need to redraw the scene of the chain wrapping around Brooklyn’s arm. That shot is GORGEOUS.

Honestly this fight is one of the coolest in the series to me. Even though it’s short it’s beautifully choreographed and the art is stunning. The lighting is amazing when the bike blows up. *chef’s kiss*

I was always sad I couldn’t climb up walls like the gargoyles could. Even broke my nails back to the quick trying one time when I was I think five?

Another core memory.

Anyway.

TENSION! WHO COULD IT BE?! lol (Seriously thank you for reading all of this if you did.)

***

Okay! So! When Brooklyn backs away and says Demona’s name, the tone of his voice has… almost a hopeful edge to it? More like “is it actually you” rather than “oh god it’s you”. Like he knew she was bad news but… maybe…

Brooklyn is shown to be an extremely intelligent character. So WHY was he so easily convinced when Demona asked to talk? (“Don’t be afraid. I just want to talk.”) He went from on the defensive (the amount of times I quote “last time we met you just wanted to blow me away with a bazooka” in my childhood and even now honestly is astounding) to somewhat relaxed FAR too quickly after all Demona said was “I saved your life just now. Doesn’t that at least entitle me to a moment of your time?” Brooklyn is far too smart to be manipulated by ONE LINE ALONE no matter how true it may be.

Even after that, why did Brooklyn follow her? Rationally, the best thing to do would be to get away from Demona as quickly as possible. It’s shown later on in the episode Demona is stronger than Brooklyn at this point in the series, and there’s no way he doesn’t know that. Why would Brooklyn want to be alone with someone who tried to KILL GOLIATH, and who is physically stronger than him? Because maybe, MAYBE, there’s some connection there from before. MAYBE there’s a hope that she’s still the same gargoyle he knew back then. So when she CASUALLY drops that she’s been “dealing with the humans” “for hundred of years” he believes her. He probably doesn’t fully comprehend the fact that she’s been alive for over 1000 years, because for him, it’s only been THIRTY-EIGHT DAYS since the massacre!

For Demona, it’s been in the hundreds of thousands.

She no longer remembers what happiness feels like. Glee, sure, every human she kills (because let’s be real, Demona did NOT live for 1000 years without killing humans (possibly even for fun)) FILLS her with glee. But it’s not true HAPPINESS. She doesn’t feel almost anything but rage anymore.

And then Goliath wakes up.

We saw how much she loved him in her backstory arc and ‘Vows’ so it’s not unreasonable to think that something reawakened in her after holding her literal long lost love in her arms again. To touch him again; hold him; SMELL him again! To stroke his horns and hair and be with her MATE AGAIN. ANOTHER GARGOYLE after 1000 years to hold.

Demona let her guard down too much with Goliath and she wasn’t able to manipulate him the way she hoped. But someone YOUNGER than her? Who LOOKED UP to her? Demona is bitter and jaded now. She has NO QUALMS using her past connection to Brooklyn to sway him, because she remembers how smart he is because she KNEW HIM. She no longer feels what she felt for Brooklyn because she doesn’t REMEMBER WHAT IT FEELS LIKE. She doesn’t remember any other love than Goliath’s, because she severed the ties in her heart to her memories but, apparently (a fact that makes her angrier than anything else), Goliath’s to keep herself sane LONG AGO (“Even after all these centuries you still carry a torch.” - Puck to Demona (while looking at GOLIATH’S IMAGE), Season 2, Episode 5, The Mirror).

But she DOES remember she USED to feel some kind of love for Brooklyn, because they were CLOSE. And she remembers Brooklyn is an emotional gargoyle as is shown MANY times in the series. It’s not unreasonable to think she used this fact to her advantage. She played with his emotions, showing him the WORST humanity had to offer while playing the part of a concerned elder trying to steer his path right, and she honestly believes her words. She soothes him and scares him at the same time. She has a rebuttal for every ‘if’, ‘and’, or ‘but’. She STROKES HIS BEAK. Physical touch and affection are INTIMATE acts in gargoyle culture. They are the equivalent to kissing. You CANNOT tell me that didn’t affect Brooklyn. Again, he’s a very emotional gargoyle. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s a little bit touch starved either. The only other gargoyles around are his rookery brothers, his leader, the only remaining ‘father’ he has, and a beast. The likelihood any of them showing INTIMATE affection for him by stroking his horns or tangling their fingers in his hair is probably low. So for Demona to touch him in such an intimate way could easily have swayed him.

Everything she said made sense after what she had showed him. She showed him how lazy the justice system can be (“He’ll be out of jail and back on the streets in a day.”). She showed him how families treat each other at home (“They can’t even share their own homes without fighting. And you think they would share this world with us?”). She showed him a MURDER (“They hold each other’s lives completely without worth.”).

**First of all, the TRAUMA, because it’s not really confirmed WHEN Brooklyn and Demona arrived at the scene of the murder, who knows how much they actually SAW. It wouldn’t have been the first dead human Brooklyn saw obviously, he’s a warrior after all, but maybe it WAS the first SENSELESS dead body he experienced. The first MURDER. (I don’t get the impression that gargoyles really went around killing each other very often but maybe that’s just me? And Castle Wyvern seemed pretty peaceful before the Vikings (though I suppose that could change with the new comics)???)**

So when she touched him, he folded and agreed to help her.

Brooklyn is also shown to be VERY ANGRY about Demona’s betrayal (“Brooklyn is still too angry at Demona. I need someone I can rely on.” - Goliath to Hudson, Season 1, Episode 11, Long Way to Morning). Sure, you could argue anyone would still be angry after only 2 months and some change, but he’s RATIONAL too. He doesn’t jump head first into anything and he’s loyal to a fault. So to be so willing to go BEHIND HIS LEADER’S BACK for someone who TRIED TO KILL HIM, Demona HAD to be someone whose word held A LOT of weight for Brooklyn. She betrayed his trust and hurt him DEEPLY, FAR deeper than just the former-mate-of-Goliath-and-former-second-in-command would have.

***

Anyway I’m high and Gargoyles is basically my Roman Empire so I word vomited a little. I hope it makes sense. XD Beyond this point is just more ramblings for the rest of the episode.

***

I feel so bad for Brooklyn here. Like I know he screwed up but he had the BEST of intentions. He REALLY thought he was doing what was right. And he was betrayed by someone who he thought he could still TRUST. (Because also, who knows what all Demona may have said to him since it seems like he was out all night seeing as how they all turn to stone very shortly after Brooklyn arrives back to the castle.) He just sighs, knowing he has to face his family. And it takes a WHILE for Elisa to figure out the loophole (it’s canonically the day after that she figures it out I believe).

The end. Of this episode. I stg my friends and I (shout out to @timetravelerspayupfront) used to quote:

“Hey! What happened to the motorcycle?”

“Um, it blew up…”

“Oh… WHAT?!”

All. The. Time. Gotta be one of my top quotes from the show!

A younger Demona with a child Brooklyn, because I headcanon that the two of them were once very close before everything happened

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Something About Books and Covers - Eddie Munson

Eddie is a metalhead. I'm a metalhead. We're perfect, right? Right. Anyways, I sat down and wrote this for almost 3 hours straight with only one bathroom break...I don't expect this to pop off lmao

Warnings: Possibly triggering content, bullying (physical and religion based cause metal music was considered of the devil in the 80s) , very fluffy in the beginning, very angsty in the middle, then back to very fluffy, and very slight spoilers for S4 i guess? But not really.

5.4K Words🤙🏻

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie was ecstatic. Metallica was finally coming to Indiana and there was no way he was missing this tour date. No way in hell. 

It was on a school night, but he couldn’t care less. He’s skipped school so many times already so he didn’t care that he'd miss a couple days, it wouldn’t make much difference anyway, he knew he would already have to repeat the grade regardless. So why not?

He hadn’t seen Metallica before, never having the money or transportation to take him to one of their concerts, but finally having a driver's license and having saved up some money from summer jobs, he would finally be able to see one of his favorite bands.

He was talking to his friends about how excited he was about it. He wore a smug grin when they expressed their jealousy. He was a little disappointed that none of his friends could go with him, but he also didn’t mind going to the concert alone. Besides, it’s not like he’d be paying attention to them during the set anyway. Driving home would be the worst part because he just knew that he’d be exhausted after the fact. But something his friend said suddenly caught his undivided attention. “Sorry, can you repeat that please?” Eddie voiced.

“I said, I heard a rumor that Y/n girl was going to that concert tomorrow night too. I heard some of her friends talking about it at their lockers.”

Eddie scoffed. “There’s no way. I mean, look at her, she looks like she listens to Cyndi Lauper or Madonna or some shit.” He chuckled. “That girl wouldn’t be caught dead at a metal concert.”

“I don’t know, man. Her friends seemed pretty upset about it.”

“Dude, I bet my life savings that there’s no way she is going. It’s impossible. She goes to Harrington parties dude, trust me, it’s just a rumor.”

As Eddie got ready for the concert that next day, he couldn’t help but think about what his friends were talking about. He also couldn’t help but laugh. Picturing you at a metal concert was a hilarious thought. You’d stick out like a sore thumb. For Eddie, he wouldn’t even go near a concert that wasn’t metal, they’d probably stone him to death or something. He scared people, he made them uncomfortable, just by being himself. It was bullshit.

Eddie quickly shook those negative thoughts out of his head, he was not going to go into a mindspace that would put a bummer on his whole night. He turned up his radio all the way and belted out every song that came on his mixtape, trying not to get into a crash from headbanging.

He made sure to get there early, hence skipping school. He needed to get a good spot, hopefully near the front at the barricade. That would be a dream. But this was the first time Metallica ever had a show in Indiana, so there were a bunch of people who even camped outside the building. Yeah…these were Eddie’s people. Didn’t see you in the line though. He didn’t know why he was looking, it’s not like he wanted you there, he was just really curious.

As everyone started to pile into the venue, he felt the nervous excitement bubble up in his chest, almost like the time when he got his first tattoo, but this was obviously different. This was excitement to see a band that inspired him, that he looked up to, a band that made his life significantly better. He’d remember this night forever.

Eddie cheered along with the rest of the crowd as the opening band came on, he knew a couple of their songs but he was really only there for Metallica, but he’d enjoy himself regardless. And he got a pretty decent view considering the larger crowd, and his height helped. He felt bad if anyone behind him was shorter, he’d absolutely hate it if he was behind a taller person. There was this one kid behind him, holding a sign that said it was his first concert. That warmed Eddie’s heart, he couldn’t not let the kid move in front of him.

From his new spot, he could still see the stage pretty well, so he was thankful for that. But the new spot also gave him a chance to have a better look around to see who was in the crowd. It’s not like he wanted to people watch, he had that done to him too many times already, but he did like seeing who else was in the crowd to see who he could be friends with if they looked interesting enough. But one person only really stood out to him.

Eddie couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. It must’ve been a hallucination, right? There was no way you were at this same concert. You, miss straight A’s and future valedictorian and member of the student council, were at a metal concert? On a school night? Eddie must’ve been dreaming because there was no way someone like you would be in a place like this.

Eddie pinched himself a few times, almost breaking his own skin, but he was still not waking up. Damn…he wasn’t dreaming. 

You couldn’t have been there of your own volition, he decided. You must’ve been dragged here by a boyfriend or best friend…or it was a dare. But from where Eddie stood, it looked like you were having fun. You were even dressed in a slightly different getup, not completely far from what you normally wore in school, but enough that you didn’t look too out of place. But to everyone else, you probably looked like you were in your element. They didn’t have the knowledge Eddie did.

It’s not like you were one of those stereotypical popular girls, he never saw you be mean to anyone or partake in the bullying of nerds and outcasts like the jocks. Granted, you weren’t a jock, but you were still a popular. You were actually pushing people around on the outskirts of a mosh pit with a huge smile on your face, the biggest smile he’d ever seen you wear. It was kind of…attractive. He had a hard time paying attention to the opening bands, he was so enthralled watching you in his preferred environment. He didn’t know why, but he felt a bit of pride even though he didn’t really know you. Maybe he’d have to change that.

While the stage crew set up Metallica’s equipment, Eddie pushed through the crowd to get where you were, apologizing to every person he pushed past until he finally was next to you. “Well, well, look who it is. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, wearing that big smile like you had been earlier, it made Eddie’s stomach feel like it was doing somersaults. “Oh, hi! Eddie, right?” You replied. Well, he definitely didn’t expect you to know his name.

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie cleared his throat nervously. “What’re you doing here?” He tried not to sound accusatory, but that edge was still in his tone. He didn’t want to come off as an asshole, but this scene was important to him and he didn’t want someone who didn’t enjoy the music to spoil the atmosphere.

You caught on to his attitude immediately, raising an eyebrow. “Same reason why you’re here, I’d assume.”

“Mm, sorry that I kinda doubt that.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“Well, you’re…you. Popular, straight A student, someone who hangs out with people that makes fun of people like me.”

“Oh, so, people who do well in school can’t possibly like this kind of music right?”

Eddie winced, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Well, no…it’s just, I never expected you to like this kind of music.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. You of all people should know that, right? Or is everyone right about you, that you’re a devil worshiping freak?”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I got a little protective. This is my safe space and I was just worried you’d…ya know, ruin it or something.” Eddie mumbled, fidgeting with the ends of his hair, then holding out his hand. “Truce?”

You stared at his hand for a moment before rolling your eyes with a smirk. “Yeah, okay, truce.” Taking his hand, you almost shivered at the cold metal of his rings that lined his fingers. You had always thought he was attractive, the jock types never really interested you, but Eddie was interesting. There was just something so alluring about him. The rough start was more than a little concerning, but at least he apologized.

Nobody really knew that you were a metalhead, it was something that you kept on a need to know basis. Hearing society’s opinion about metal music didn’t really make you comfortable to be open about it. Almost everyone thought people who listened to metal were a devil worshiper or a serial killer. You had heard people talking about how Richard Ramirez listened to heavy metal and that must be why he was going on a killing spree, though it was mostly middle aged Christian women you had heard talking that way, but it still wasn’t very reassuring.

You always admired Eddie from afar, but you were always too afraid to talk to him, even about the similar music taste. He seemed nice enough, but then again, you both were from two completely different worlds. It just didn’t seem likely to happen. You had always planned to go to this concert, and when you found out that Eddie would be too, you felt like the stars aligned. Even if you never saw him in the crowd, you would be happy to know that he was at least in the same building as you, as creepy as that sounds. But when he actually made an effort to talk to you, it was almost as good as being at the concert.

After the truce, you both got to talking before the headliner finally played. You actually had some common interests. Eddie played the guitar and you had always wanted to, he said that he could try to teach you sometime, which was unexpected. You hoped the dim lighting in the building would hide your blush, but you could see a smirk on Eddie’s face in the corner of your eye. Thankfully, the lights completely dimmed and the stage lights coming on signaling that Metallica was finally coming on saved you from further embarrassment.

And out came Metallica, James Hetfield front and center in all his glory. It was a real starstruck moment, for both you and Eddie.

Every once in a while, you and Eddie would glance over at each other, huge smiles on both of your faces and slightly sweaty from jumping around and singing to the tops of your lungs. It was surprisingly intimate. You loved seeing Eddie in his natural habitat, you could tell how much this concert meant to him. It was really a sight to behold, if your eyes weren’t on the band you were looking at Eddie. The same thing could be said for him as well. Eddie didn’t know how to handle seeing you like this, it was a fine line between surprise and arousal, he didn’t know if the scale would tip by the time the night ended.

You and Eddie laughed as you both were squished together by the force of the crowd, the only way for him to be truly comfortable was for him to wrap his arm around your shoulders but you didn’t mind. It actually felt nice, despite the humid heat that enveloped the whole crowd, making your exposed skin stick to his leather jacket. Sometimes you’d stumble onto him, but he always made sure to never let you fall. You were grateful that he was your tall person that saved you from being crushed by crowd surfers, making sure your head was ducked before he’d help the person. You got kicked a couple of times, but it was no big deal. You were sure you’d have bruises by the time you got home.

As the band started playing their encore, you and Eddie held onto each other and sang along as loud as you could, knowing all the lyrics by heart. The two of you weren’t each looking at the band, you both were practically singing to each other. Your mouth was so sore from smiling so much, and you could tell that you wouldn’t be able to talk properly after singing for so long.

As Metallica said goodnight and walked off the stage, you felt the post-concert depression already kick in. It was over all too soon, but it was in part because you and Eddie probably wouldn’t even talk to each other after this. You didn’t want that to happen. You wanted to have someone who would go to concerts with you. You didn’t really feel like any of your other friends truly saw you. Music was important to you, and someone like Eddie would understand that. You’ve only hung out with him for a few hours, not even talking to each other, but you already felt closer to him than anyone else.

Eddie kept his arm around you as you both walked out of the building with the rest of the crowd, the cold air instantly making the sweat on your skin feel freezing. You knew you should’ve brought a heavier jacket. He noticed you shivering and he quickly removed his own jacket, putting it around your shoulders. The inside of the jacket felt like a warm blanket, encompassing you and the scent of sweat mixed with cologne filled your nostrils, Eddie’s scent. It brought that blush back to your cheeks, but at least you could blame it on the cold air this time. 

“So…do you have a ride home? Or did you drive here?” Eddie asked after a beat of awkward silence.

“Oh, I was just gonna hail a cab. I just had a family member drop me off.”

“I drove here, I can give you a ride.” Eddie pointed to his van that was parked in the lot outside the venue. “It’s pretty busted up, there’s no air conditioning or heat, and it makes this weird clanking noise sometimes...but it’s something.”

“Yeah, it’s something.” You giggled, wrapping his jacket around you tighter. “Can I keep wearing the jacket?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course! Can’t let you freeze to death now, can I?” He grinned, tugging you by the jacket sleeve to lead you to his van. 

It was still really cold inside the van, but now being alone with Eddie, you felt the heat from your blush all over your body. You tried not to wince as the van’s engine rattled loudly as he started the vehicle, it definitely sounded like it was crying out for a tuneup. Hopefully it wouldn’t die on the way back home. You told Eddie your address, thankfully it wasn’t too far out of the way. It wasn’t on the wealthy side of town, but you didn’t live in a trailer park like Eddie, it was someone in the middle and only round fifteen minutes from where he lived.

You felt guilty as you let your head rest against the window, your eyelids feeling heavier than you expected. This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo, but you used up a lot of energy during the show. “Ugh, I’m sorry I’m falling asleep.” You chuckled weakly.

“Oh, that’s okay. Go ahead, I’m good by myself. I’m a veteran at this point. I’ve only been in a couple car crashes.” He smirked, chuckling to himself when your eyes widened. “Seriously though, you can sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re in Hawkins.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” You spoke softly, the drowsiness taking over your body quickly and making your eyes close for the rest of the trip.

Keeping his eyes on the road proved to be more difficult than Eddie had anticipated. He couldn’t stop himself from glazing over at your sleeping form, and you looked so peaceful. He couldn’t believe you were actually allowing him to drive you home. It seemed tonight was full of surprises. He almost didn’t want to wake you up when he saw the “You are now entering Hawkins” sign, but your sleepy voice and tired smile definitely made up for it.

“I’ll tell you when to turn.” You yawned, tucking your knees to your chest as close as you could to try and retain some warmth, Eddie’s large jacket almost swallowing your torso and legs.

“Hey, just out of curiosity, do you listen to Cyndi Lauper?”

You snorted followed by a couple giggles. “That’s a random question.”

“Well, do you?”

“Yeah, of course.” You chuckled. “What?” You asked when you saw his facial expression.

“Nothing, just not surprised.” He smirked.

“Oh and what, you don’t like Lauper?”

“I listen to real music.”

You laughed loudly, almost startling Eddie. “Ah, so you’re one of those metal elitists, huh? You think your music is the only real music? Time after time? Girls just wanna have fun? Come on, no human on earth can’t not like those songs.” Eddie only shrugged, a toothy grin on his face that reeked of smugness. “Expand your horizons, Eds. You’re missing out.” You were too giggly to realize what you had called him, but he definitely did. It managed to wipe off his smug grin. “Oh, you turn here.” You pointed out.

A loud silence came over the two of you as Eddie parked in front of your home and turned off the engine, the shared exhaustion between the two of you apparent. But Eddie looked over to you with a smile. “I should’ve said this earlier, but I had a lot of fun. Best concert I’ve been to yet.”

“Me too.”

“So,” He turned to you, “what happens now? Are we just gonna go back to our respective lives? Ignore each other in the halls until the next concert we find ourselves at?”

You frowned. “Eddie, come on. I’m not going to ignore you just because of what other people think. I’m not as shallow as you think.”

“So, we can still be concert partners?”

“I was thinking more than that. We can be actual friends.”

“Wow, we’re moving on up, huh?” He chuckled.

“Sorry, Eds, but you’re now officially stuck with me.”

“Not the worst fate in the world.” He smiled softly, looking into your eyes intensely.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned over and kissed Eddie on the cheek. “Goodnight, Eddie.” You smiled before getting out of the van, not looking back to see his reaction as you entered your home, leaning against the now closed door and giggling to yourself.

Unlike Eddie, you didn’t skip school the next day after that long night, you still had responsibilities. But you quickly regretted it as you walked through the halls of Hawkins High, hearing whispers and dirty looks getting sent your way as you made your way to your locker. It was mostly the jocks, the people you typically hung out with, which disappointed you even more, especially if they were talking about what you think they were. You even heard some hushed laughter from behind you, causing you to turn around to see some of your other friends looking at you with not so hidden smirks. Thankfully, it was only that, just whispers and looks, until lunch.

You sighed as you saw Hawkins' own golden boy Jason started making his way to your lunch table with a mischievous smirk on his face. You just played it cool, talked to him like you usually would. “Hi, Jason.” You smiled.

Jason looked back at his friends before he sat down in front of you. “Hey, Y/n. So, me and the boys heard some rumors about you today and I just wanted to hear your thoughts on it before I made any opinions.” He said, but it was clear he already made up his mind about you.

You chuckled flatly. “And what rumors would those be?”

“We heard that you were hanging with that Munson freak last night. You went to one of those devil worshiping sessions disguised as a music concert, even though it’s not even music, it’s just noise. It’s in your best interest to tell the truth.”

“Is that a threat, Carver?” You spat, your expression hardening.

“Just answer the question.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. I was at a concert last night, and Eddie was there. He was kind enough to drive me home too.”

Jason sighed in feign disappointment, clearly trying to hide his smirk. “I gotta say, I’m pretty disappointed in you, Y/n. I thought you were better than this. I thought you were a church goer, what would your pastor say?”

“I wasn’t aware that he was the boss of me, or you, for that matter.”

“I’m just trying to look out for my fellow brothers and sisters. You’re going down a dark path. Once you start hanging with the wrong crowd, it’s a slippery slope.”

A feeling of dread came over you when Jason looked back at his friends, trying to be subtle as he nodded back at them, the exchange causing their faces to light up in excitement. Expecting him to say more, he only gave you a sad smile as he left your table. And for the rest of the school day, that fake smile was all you could think about it, how sinister it felt. Your panic really started when you couldn’t find your bike, the lock you had on it had been broken off. Then, you felt a pair of strong hands take hold of your shoulders. You turned to look at one of the jocks from the basketball team, a huge smirk on his face.

You kicked and screamed, but either there was no one around to hear or no one cared. He and other jocks helped drag you to the back of the school, where Jason and the rest of the basketball and some of the cheerleading team were waiting for your grand entrance.

You didn’t know how long it was until they all let you go, but the sun was starting to set, but then again, the sun always set early during winter. It felt like an eternity, but you were just glad they finally got bored of you.

Your outer layers of clothing were ripped, your jeans and jacket having rips and holes in them. They’d have to be replaced. You had scratches and bruises and cuts galore. Bruises, and scratches, and cuts, oh my! You weakly chuckled at your own joke, immediately regretting doing so since your sides were bruised pretty badly. You dreaded having to walk home, they stole your bike so you had no choice. Your house was so far and you absolutely missed the bus, but there was one person who’s home was closer, and he wouldn’t turn you away. You just hoped he was home.

You were relieved to see Eddie’s van in the driveway, and you shakily raised you fist to knock on the door, surprised how quickly he answered. He was stunned for a moment as he looked you up and down with his eyebrows tightly knitted together, before he finally spoke. “What the hell happened to you?” He ushered you into his trailer, making you take a seat on his couch.

“Jason and the basketball team.” You replied with a wince, seeing Eddie’s concerned and confused face turn into seething rage. “Guess the whole school found out I was one of those devil worshipers.” You finger quoted, a weak smile on your face.

“They did this to you?” Eddie seethed.

“Well, they held me down while their cheerleaders beat the shit outta me for them.”

“That’s so fucked up.” He almost yelled, pacing back and forth in his living room while grasping at his hair. “God, I am so sorry.” His voice wavered, tears welling up in his eyes as he gazed at you.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault, Eds. But, it would be nice if you could drive me home. They stole my bike and your place was closer.” You chuckled.

“Hold on, I think I have a first aid kit laying around here somewhere. They’re essential when living on this side of town.” You watched with slight amusement as Eddie frantically searched around his trailer for his first aid kit, it was pretty cute and you would have laughed if you weren’t in pain. “Ah, found it!” He walked back and sat next to you, emptying the whole box onto the cushions with shaking hands. “Don’t worry, I know how to patch someone up. Had to learn how to do that pretty early in life.” He chuckled nervously.

“Hey,” You grabbed ahold of his hand, “I’m okay. These wounds are just superficial, they’ll be gone in a week or so.”

Eddie stayed silent, staring at your hand that held his and hesitantly placing his other hand on top of yours, delicately running his thumb over your knuckles. “This never should’ve happened.”

“You’re telling me.” You tried to joke, but Eddie’s face quickly told you that this was not the time to be joking. “Sorry. But I’ll be fine, really. I probably won’t be at school tomorrow though.”

“I wouldn’t let you anyway.”

“Oh really?” You smirked.

Eddie finally gave you a weak smile, his larger hands enveloping yours. “Let me clean you up though, okay?” You nodded, letting him clean and dress your small wounds. He was gentle, his touch as feather light as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you any more than you already were. His fingertips running along your skin made you shiver. “Cold?”

“Uh, yeah, a bit.” You stuttered. “Oh, that reminds me, I still have your jacket from last night. I have to remember to return it to you.”

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, I’ll let you borrow it for a bit. You look cute in it, especially because it’s mine.” Those kinds of comments can give people heart attacks, you specifically.

“I’ll be sure to wear it often then.” You replied, wearing a small smirk on your face.

“Well, I’m…I’m all done. Did you want to go home now?”

“Do I have the option to stay? For a little while?”

Eddie smiled softly. “Of course.”

You couldn’t recall how you ended up in Eddie’s bed, but you welcomed it nonetheless. You especially welcomed the heat from his body that was against you, his arm draped over your side and holding you to his chest with a hand on your back. You didn’t realize how comfortable being held in someone’s arms could be, but it was probably because of who was holding you. 

You had woken up before Eddie, but that just meant you got to admire his face. He was so cute, you couldn’t help but lean up to gently kiss his stubbly chin. Apparently, that was enough to stir him awake. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, smiling sweetly. Eddie briefly turned to look at his alarm clock on his bedside table, groaning in annoyance. “Time?”

Eddie frowned. “If I don’t tell you, will you go back to sleep?”

“No. Sorry.”

He sighed. “I guess I’ll take you home now. But I’m gonna come see you tomorrow, no doubt about that.”

“Can’t argue that.”

The next couple days went by smoothly. Eddie helped take care of you, even though you didn’t need help but you quickly learned you couldn’t win an argument with this boy. You knew he felt guilty for what happened, even though it wasn’t his fault. You tried convincing him of that, but he wouldn’t listen. You also learned that he was extremely stubborn, but who isn’t nowadays. You did dread going back to school, you were more embarrassed than anything else. You probably should’ve been scared, but it was hard when you had Eddie by your side. You’ve known him for a very short time but you already would go to war for each other. The power of music.

But when you walked through the halls, no one even looked at you. Almost everyone moved out of your way when you walked anywhere. You caught some stares, but they looked more fearful than disgusted. You noticed that Jason was nowhere to be seen. It was strange because he wasn't the type to miss school. You heard he had gotten in a car accident, he was driving drunk and ran a stop sign, another car ramming him and getting him a couple broken bones in the process. You thought about asking Eddie, but something told you not to. Either way, you were glad he’d be out of your hair for awhile.

But your curiosity finally peaked when Jason came back and…actually apologized to you. You thought he’d gun for you as soon as he came back, but he apologized. You almost thought that maybe a near death experience knocked some sense into him, but he looked too scared when he was saying sorry to you. It was suspicious, to say the least. You decided to finally bring it up to Eddie.

“Jason was acting pretty weird this morning.” You spoke up after school in his trailer, which became a regular hang out spot for you if Eddie wasn’t at your place.

“What? Why? What did he say to you? Did he threaten you? I swear to Christ, if he-”

“No, no!” You interrupted. “No, he told me he was sorry for what he did to me that day, said he wasn’t thinking straight, among other things.”

“Oh.”

“It just got me thinking, because that’s not like him at all.”

“How would you know what his typical behavior is like?”

“Well, I used to hang out with his crowd and him, for one. Plus, people like him never admit their wrongs, even if it kills them.”

“Guess he’d rather apologize than get killed…”

You narrowed your eyes, thoroughly analyzing Eddie’s expressions and body language. He was fidgeting with his rings, something he always did when he was nervous. And he was looking anywhere else but you. You scoffed in amusement. “You made him crash his car, didn’t you?”

“What? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. He was the one who ran a spot sign while drinking, okay? It had nothing to do with me.” You only smiled smugly in response, eliciting a heavy sigh from him. “Alright, alright, fine. Yes, I…may have had a tiny part in that.”

“How?” You stuttered, amazed.

“I have some connections. I wasn’t gonna kill him or anything, I swear. I just wanted to scare him a bit. But then…well…it went a little further than I intended. I made him apologize to you, well, more like blackmailed him into apologizing.” Eddie looked up at you nervously, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. “Don’t hate me, please.”

“Oh, Eddie…” You frowned. “I could never hate you. I’m actually pretty impressed. Not gonna lie, I really wanted something bad to happen to that guy. I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“Y/n, you are literally the opposite of a bad person.” He said with an almost lovesick smile. You couldn’t handle it anymore…

Eddie let out a surprised noise as you suddenly leaned forward to capture his lips in a passionate, desperate kiss. You had wanted to do this ever since that night at the concert, so you were incredibly relieved when he reciprocated with fervor, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap.

You tangled your fingers in his long hair, gently pulling at the roots to elicit a groan from the man. After days and days of tension, having it finally break was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t ask for anything better. You learned many things about Eddie, now happily learning how intoxicating his lips were. They moved against yours perfectly, his expertise not lost on you. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to feel him against you forever, but you both had to come up for air.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You smiled, chuckling breathlessly.

“Honestly, I have ever since I saw you in that mosh pit.” Eddie said, making you giggle. “So, I guess we’re moving on up again. From concert buddies to concert partners, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

~~~~~~~~~~

aw man...it hurts but my heart is also full

[iratetourist]

pour some sugar on me // eddie munson x reader

summary: an early morning meeting opportunity with eddie quickly takes a heated turn…

pairing: eddie munson x fem!cheerleader!reader

word count: medium-length (written on phone)

warnings: smutty stuff (18+, in a classroom, fingering, eddie does some nasty shit with his coffee, implied bl*wjob), banter in between it all

author’s note: he wasn’t even around for the song the title is based on… rip king you would have loved it… this fic contextually fits with my other one - after school only - which is kind of becoming something of a series, i guess? but this is separate enough that it can be read on its own… it is pure smut after all lmao

——————————

It was far from subtle or secretive anymore.

Sure, the technical extent of it known by the student body was still just that you were tutoring Eddie Munson, and given how long it had been going on… well, the jokes about him not graduating a third time had certainly ramped up, despite your deterrence and the obvious improvement of his grades. Rumours flew that the teachers had schemed to get you off final exam-free for the agonizing, dedicated venture, because why else would you, lovely straight-A cheerleader extraordinaire, continue bothering with the bum-ass skid kid wonder?

Now… you were well, well aware of what Eddie Munson could offer to keep you around - his hands, ring-clad and rough-palmed down your thighs, and oh, those lips buried between your legs - but at some point, you began to recognize it was just as much, if not more, the little things, the affection and the warmth it stoked in your chest.

Today was no different, the butterflies in your stomach no less fluttery at waiting for him, no less bursting when he walked in the classroom door that early, early morning, easy smile dimpling his cheeks and coffees and a small crinkly bag clutched in hand.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The nickname never not caused you to melt, and despite trying to keep your expression casual, your demeanour breezy, you practically beamed back at him, already moving to draw him to you. “Hiya. Almost thought—“ Your short greeting was cut off by a sudden yawn, only half-stifled by your hand.

“Oof, you need this,” he smirked and placed the to-go coffee tray on your desk. “How else are you gonna survive the arduous trial of dealing with me before 8AM?”

“Mm, I’ve done it before,” you remarked cheekily, “but thank you.” Standing straighter, you gave a little stretch, revelling in how obviously he was watching each and every movement you made. “Honestly, though, what I think I need more is…”

You leaned over and kissed him, hand gently holding him over your desk by the shirt. He returned it without missing a beat, dropping the bag in his hand on said desk to wrap around your waist. It was longer than intended, content and lazy in the warm morning rays, and most definitely exactly what you had required.

When you parted, Eddie lingered close for just a few moments, face flushed and eyes opening slowly to study you. He seemed almost mesmerized, unusually quiet and all attention on you, and you felt a paradoxical flood of guilt wash over you even as your heart skipped. He looked at you like that, made you feel like this… and yet, you had both convinced yourselves into a place where it couldn’t be acknowledged.

You wanted nothing more than to take his hand in the hallway, sit with him at lunch, kiss his knuckles and call him yours - but what kind of target would all that set up on him, on you?

You hated that you still let their opinions control you, seep into and poison the bright, simple happiness he brought into your life.

“Hey, you good? You kind of zoned out there.”

He brushed his ringed fingers down your arm, voice soft and low. You were struck out of your spiralling thoughts at the contact, and you shook your head and plunked yourself down before they could take root again, anchoring your mood to his presence, the way he angled into you and bumped his knee against yours.

Even with all that doubt and shame nagging at the edges of your mind, you weren’t about to let it ruin a rare morning with him.

“I’m all right,” you nodded, giving him a genuine smile and taking a sip of the coffee he had brought. A little burnt and stale, courtesy of the gas station, but triple-sugared and two-creamed just as you liked it. “Thanks again for… oh, you remembered! Thank you, Eddie.”

“S’nothin’,” he shrugged, but you could see a crooked smile dawn on his own features. “Got you this, too… uh, remembered you said you'd, quote unquote, 'kill a bitch' for one of those Daily’s everything bagels when we drove by there last time, and they actually had some left this morning, so…" He dangled the flimsy bag he had brought in front of you, brows waggling all the while.

Maybe it was the fact that you were ravenous, but it took everything in you not to lunge him into another lip lock right there and then. God, he had you completely and utterly whipped in the stupidest, sweetest ways possible.

“You, Eddie Munson, are an absolute godsend.” You had the bag playfully snatched from his hands before he knew it, a delighted, self-satisfied noise leaving you as you bit into the bagel. “Literally everything I could ever need in one perfect circle.” Your voice became theatrical as you next spoke. “However can I repay you, good sir?”

“Hmm…” He put on a look of mock-consideration and tapped his chin. “Well, I do seem to be in need of some… say, sugar, fair lady—“ He tipped his own coffee cup in your direction, “Perhaps you may provide?”

Your brows drew together at him for a second, before he matched your earlier gesture and was leaning in to press his lips to yours, kiss just as tender as the first. When he went to pull away, you instinctively gathered your hands up his chest, fingers gently tracing the line of his collarbone up to his jaw before settling on his neck. He was putty in your capable hands, an appreciative noise leaving him at the way your thumb massaged his nape, head tilting automatically to deepen the kiss. What was definitely meant to be something short and teasing quickly had him shifting to bring you to his lap, fingers ghosting beneath your skirt and tongue pushing to yours.

Breakfast was forgotten as the kiss went from unhurried to something desperate, needier - your hips grinding down on the growing tent in his jeans, seeking the friction the rough fabric provided, his hand under your shirt, bra shoved aside, his thumb and forefinger circling, rolling, punishing, appreciating… Every kind of noise left the two of you, a gasp and moan from endlessly-kissed lips, a groan that rumbled from his chest against yours, more than a few fucks shared alongside your names.

You were hyperaware of the location, the fact that a too-early student or janitor or teacher could wander by and see your activities, but something about that only added to the fervour with which your hands explored him, to the want coiling low. You weren’t sure you were quite ready to just straight up fuck the man right there in a classroom, but there were most certainly other ways to go about this…

He already had one hand holding you at the back and the other sliding down to press fingers against the thinly-clothed, increasingly-wet apex of your legs, spreading your folds, and you rolled your hips forward to meet him, earning a stutter and stir of his own and that groan you loved so, husky and yours.

“Raring to go, I see… damn near soaked…”

“Mmf, E-Eddie…” You buckled down on him as his thumb grazed your clit, a test of a touch, his mouth fixing itself into a smirk against yours. “God, are we—“ Another euphoric flick of a calloused fingertip, a sensitive whine falling from kiss-swollen lips, “Are we really doing, ah… this, mm—“

He kissed you hungrily, teeth hooking into the plush of your lower lip as he readjusted you higher on him, hand relocating to ass, his tongue following close behind to soothe the area and then sink upwards, never once settling on an angle to maintain. You matched his enthusiasm, tangling a manicured hand in his hair and tugging, nails and all, while you propped the other beneath his chin, thumbing the annoyingly-attractive dimple in it and craning his head to the side to kiss him even deeper, longer.

You were forced apart for air after who-knows-how-long, and with sweat sticking your foreheads together and your chests heaving in-time with hammering hearts, he gazed up you, dark eyes hooded and completely captivating. Finally slipping a finger past your soaked panties and into you as effortlessly as could be, he maintained the eye contact with little more than a crooked, cocky smile, watching smugly how the simple action had you writhing.

“Why don’t you tell me, sweetheart?” he practically purred the words into your ear, nose nudging at the shell of it. You nodded eagerly against his temple, arms tightening around his neck, but he did not heed the way your hips fidgeted, how you clenched around the digit deep within you. Rather, he only slowly added another, curled just the once to further your impatience, your desperation.

“Eddie—“

“I said,” he whispered, pressing a light, infuriating kiss to your jaw, “tell me.”

A hand of yours fell to grab the wrist of the one of his pressed to you, running over the chain bracelet he wore, heated all the same as the three bulky rings denting your asscheek and the jewelled one, slick and edging deliciously just at your entrance. Eddie’s hand twitched at the featherlight dance of your fingers against his inner wrist, the movement jolting his drenched fingers sat punishingly still within you, and you moaned, grinding down to any source of relief to be granted by your words.

“You’re going to take those fingers,” you breathed, quiet with mind to the potential for being heard, before guiding his hand closer, watching as he did so, your own fingers gliding over tattoos. “And you’re going to fuck me with them—“

“‘Atta girl,” he nodded, eye contact still intensely held peripherally, his stubble scraping at your neck and jaw. “Go on—“

“Curl them—“ He did so abruptly, fingers eagerly hooking and stroking, working into a steady rhythm, and you gasped, your walls spasming around him, spurring him on. “Oh…”

“And?” He shifted a little, letting his frustratingly-clothed arousal press slightly from where his fingers played, just below your backside, and your mind blanked as you naturally strained down and back for it. He kissed the hollow of your neck and then prompted again, an amused lilt to his low voice. “…And?”

“Th-thumb,” you murmured, hand rising from its place at his wrist back to around his neck, clutching at his shoulders to maintain your own pace against his relentless fingers. “You’re gonna keep fingerfucking me, and you’re going to take that thumb and— now, now—“

Eddie took the cue, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, hips chasing every movement he made, and finally darted his thumb back to that point of pleasure. Abandoning any care that you could be caught, you made an obscene sound that struck him clear through to the cock, pressing almost painfully against you, and he rocked his hips once, twice, again and again as he teased and kneaded at your aching clit.

“Don’t stop, Eddie,” you moaned, fisting his shirt, frantically riding his hand, “you’re— you’re going to— it-it feels - I’m—“

“Oh, it’s all you, sweet thing,” he exhaled raggedly, “Feel that, feel me? What you do - fuck, babe, you deserve it all, never gonna let a day go by where you don’t know that… so come on, right on my fingers, right here, right now, babe… let me look at you…”

He kept at it as he basically babbled, fingers continuing to glide and curl and thumb, never once easing up on you. His words paired with his movements had you climbing ever-higher to that peak, the tightening in your lower belly cresting, close, close, until you were crushing your mouth against his and cumming hard, cursing as muscles contracted and your cunt clenched around his hand. Your chest heaved against his and you had to break away after a long moment to breathe, lungs and heart feeling as though they were about burst, and you caught him staring, simply watching, luxuriating in you as he always did when either of you came, whether together or apart.

Sinking down against him, you pressed your face, flushed as could be, to his collarbone, a lazy kiss or two from your lips to the skin lingering as you came down, body impossibly warm and thrumming, mind blanketed blissfully in a fog of just him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Eddie removed his fingers from within you, and your face grew all the warmer as he raised them in front of you both, a devilish grin on his face as he admired them, slick and shiny, in the morning light. His ring practically glittered, and he caught you watching it alongside him, his smile turning into a glowing sidelong smirk as you buried your face back where it had been.

“Eddie…” you groaned, balling up your hand and lightly play-hitting him on shoulder, embarrassment welling up in you. Shifting slightly, you could feel the mess you both had made below, underwear - of which you clearly didn’t have another pair readily available - absolutely drenched, your legs automatically pressing together as your embarrassment only mounted… fuck sakes, you still had the whole school day to get through…

“Mm, shy now, are we…” he teased, rolling your face from the crook of his neck to look back up at him. “Not sure why,” he mused, self-satisfied smile widening as he raised those glistening fingers higher. You watched with wide eyes as they finally arrived at his mouth, and he gave his thumb a long, thorough lick upwards, heavy-lidded gaze never breaking from yours, a low, appreciative hum leaving him as he continued.

He proceeded to spread your slick over his lips then, tongue darting out to lap it up immediately, a mockingly-playful bite taking to his lip as he carried on with his agonizing display. “You taste fuckin’ amazing, as always, sweetheart.”

Though a part of you felt nothing short of thoroughly bashful, the sight stoked at you all over again, and you squirmed against him, too overwhelmed to think or act coherently quite yet. “God, you are utterly ridiculous,” you huffed, allowing your embarrassment to be soothed by pride at the way he, still hard and straining, rutted beneath you, into that tantalizing soaked heat of yours.

“Can’t deny a man his sugar, princess,” he quipped, leaning past you with a groan and reaching for his coffee. You gave him a curious look that almost instantaneously re-registered a maddening flush of desire and mortification as he popped his index and middle finger into his coffee as casually as could be, swirling them around before taking a long, long sip.

“Y-YOU— Did you JUST—?”

“Yes? Just a little natural sweetener, babe. Courtesy of you, of course.”

You swore you were about to burst into flames, hands flying to cover your face, ears burning and heart palpitating. “Ohhh. My. God…” He would be the end of you, and would relish in every second of it.

“Don’t be like that,” he laughed, a genuine thing that, along with the glorious aftereffects of the orgasm and bizarre, heady flush of your embarrassment, had you going light-headed and those butterflies returning to your stomach. “You’re my favourite flavour, after all.”

“Okay, you know what?” You leaned back on his lap, very deliberately reaching down to fiddle with his belt and zipper, his erection tickling the skin of your inner wrist as you went along. “I think it’s about time you shut up—“

“Oh, of course, you’ll hear not a word,” his face split into yet another grin and he pulled his fingers across his mouth, miming them zipped. His hands then fell to help you with his belt, but you swatted them away, and he exhaled a breathy laugh, running a hand back through his hair.

“I highly doubt that,” you grumbled, finally freeing him from the restricting confines of his jeans and boxers. You caught his eye for a brief second and licked your lips, swallowing through a dry throat at the way his rigid cock bobbed before you, precum practically beckoning you to bend down and—

“Mrs. Pratt, Mrs. Pratt, do you know where the AV equipment was last seen? It’s been missing since Wednesday, and Kenny and I need it—“

The shrill call of a voice much, much too close to the classroom you two occupied had you freezing and your heart leaping to your throat, and one quick glance at Eddie showed that even he had tensed into something of a panic mode.

“Fuck, what’s the time—“ Eddie shifted the chair you were both on at an angle away from the windowed door, obscuring at least a bit if a passerby were to skitter down the hall, before quickly checking his watch. “Goddamn, already 7:55…”

“So much for helping you with last minute review…” You blew out a breath that had his bangs flying up, and he laughed hoarsely, still very aware of your fingers skimming around his length, before leaning forward to tap your nose.

“Ah, it’s not like I didn’t learn something new,” he smirked for the umpteenth time just that very morning, and as always, it made you all the more hot and bothered. “For one, now I know you have a thing for going at it in classrooms… kinda figured you might, what with the whole studious, goody-two-shoes cheerleader act, but damn, you didn’t even hesitate…”

“I thought you were going to shut up,” you narrowed your eyes at him and ran your thumb under the length of his cock, and he groaned as he leaned in and kissed you squarely on the mouth - you wondered briefly if you could taste yourself on his lips…

“People are about to start flooding into the school… gonna be walking down that hallway, going about their day…” he whispered against your lips, “and yet here you are, still basically begging to suck my dick like half your cheer squad and the basketball team aren’t about to walk in that door any minute now… god fucking damn, you’re a bolder one than I, sweetheart…”

“Am I, now?” you finally found yourself leaning into the goading, to the excitement and danger of really, truly getting caught. Experimentally, you brushed the head of his cock with another featherlight skim, and his hips drove forward instinctively, heat throbbing and twitching against your palm and your mind going haywire with the need to sink down on him.

“No shit, babe,” he nuzzled your neck, voice a little breathier than before, “but whereas you somehow might have ended up as the freakier of us - no idea how that happened - I—“ He sighed and made to retrieve his tossed-aside belt, “Well, I’m a glutton for punishment, and the only person I want seeing you like this is me. So, unfortunately, sweetheart, I do believe this little foray is gonna have to wait until at least lunch…”

With that, he was, with much difficulty, removing your hands from his length and rearranging it in his boxers and pants, hissing and half-bucking as he did. You watched with confusion for a second, before squinting at him in frustration and, Jesus, really, truly whining, none of which helped with Eddie’s issue.

“Are you for real right now?”

Your voice was incredulous, your face screwed up in genuine exasperation, and fuck, the indignation had him wanting to drag you to the parking lot and to his van that very instant.

“You want my cock in your mouth that bad, sweetheart?” He jutted out his bottom lip mockingly, eyes sparkling with pure ego as he took your chin in his fingers and tilted it downwards. Through it all, your fingers still toyed around him, something he was more than happy to allow. “God, I love it when you get needy, like, seriously needy. Whore-adjacent, even.”

A sharp, abrupt laugh left you at that, his words doing nothing to alleviate the coiling sensation deep in your gut. “You’re lucky I like you so much, pretty boy,” you murmured as you rolled your eyes and looked away, and yet he knew you were quietly revelling in his taunting, in the name-calling.

“Mm, I am…” Finally having put himself back together, he reached up and brushed his knuckles along your jaw, a fond flash to his eyes and a gentleness to his touch that both contrasted and complemented the entire odd air of the situation. “Very, very much so.”

You rolled your eyes yet again, more embarrassed by the blatant affection than the teasing about, you know, being a desperate slut whom wanted little more than to blow him right then and there.

“Fine,” you humphed, sitting up and back in your own chair, crossing your arms in a way that deliberately hiked up your breasts as you did so, receiving an approving raise of his brows at the action. “But you best believe this is happening the second that fucking lunch bell rings, you hear? Your van, 11:45AM—“

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot,” he groaned, shooting forward to tilt you back in your chair and kiss you absolutely breathless. You clutched to him out of sheer surprise, but he had you completely secured in one arm, the other tending to your seat.

It was a little mischievous, a touch longing, and warm above all, and you couldn’t help wrapping an arm around him to kiss him even deeper. Despite the potential for being walked in on at literally any second, it wasn’t rushed, rather quietly, intensely yearning, all-consuming, the ever-present butterflies in your stomach going off erratically as he angled back further and further yet.

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, could keep me away,” he whispered as he finally broke away, once again just caressing you, his thumb stroking down your neck, tickling the flushed flesh. “Putting this off for the next few hours, s’gonna be pure fuckin’ agony—“

Pure fuckin’ bliss—

The delayed gratification was already stoking at the fire in his gut, and it had only been barely ten minutes… “—only thing I’m gonna be thinking about is you and that gorgeous goddamn mouth—“ Fuck, he was not helping himself, cock still as hard as ever and clearly evident to you before him, a raised eyebrow directed at it.

“But, oof, the come-up and drop down—“ He put his fingers up to his head and pretended to shoot off like a gun. “Gonna send me to seventh heaven, cloud fuckin’ nine, baby.”

“Mm, right answer,” you smiled, playfully rolling your eyes at his puppy-like enthusiasm, while letting him slowly put your chair back on four legs before you let go of his leather jacket. “And we’re listening to ABBA when we get out there.” You could have requested fucking gospel music and he would have agreed like it was nothing. “Now I suggest you do fulfill your previous promise and stop talking before you blow your load right here and now, Munson.”

At that, he stretched out his arms and did a goofy half-curtsy, applying a kiss to your hand, before turning and retrieving his coffee and bagel, eyeing you the entire time he took a good, long, loud drink of the beverage. “Better eat that,” he pursed his lips at your own once-bitten everything bagel, “Gonna need the energy for later, sweet thing.”

With this, he waggled his eyebrows and took off to his officially-designated desk several spots and a row behind you, leaving you to splutter as your fellow classmates conveniently started to filter in. Unable to mutter or scold or whatever, you tried to school your composure and instead took to his cheeky request, grabbing your bagel and taking a ragged bite, knowing all the while he was watching you, munching away at his own.

Just as a few more people entered the room, you heard a slurping sound from behind you, and you went ramrod straight as you slowly twisted around to find Eddie doing just so, his coffee cup hanging at his lips, doing nothing to conceal a massive smirk. Your attention now on him, he dropped the cup, finished, to the desk, and maintained eye contact as he slowly, heinously licked his lips. He was all casual in the way he held himself above the desk, shoulders relaxed and whole demeanour unbothered, but a quick glance below showed him unsubtly trying to angle his chair to the side, legs awkwardly half-crossed trying to hide the quite obvious.

When he caught you so blatantly staring there, accentuated all the more with a challenging, cocky wink, that smugness of his fell away in a second, replaced with something a little wild, more than a bit pathetic, and nothing short of desperate.

With a furtive little smile and definitive lick of your lips, you turned back to face the blackboard, mind swimming with anticipation and your gut aching with a familiar warmth all over again.

Oh, the next few hours were going to be torturously fun for the both of you, indeed.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[ohbae-me]

Do you have any headcanons concerning the brothers and praise kink? Mammon definitely loves being praised, but I feel like all of them crave that validation lol

OOooh anonni, i have way too many thoughts on this particular topic lmao

Lucifer:

It's not something he realized he wanted until it happened

But phrases like "you make me feel so good," and "you're so good to me" while he's absolutely railing you will guarantee him fucking you into the mattress even harder

As if this man needs his ego puffed up anymore. He'll get a shit eating grin on his face but don't let it fool you. He's acting like he's in charge but he's really just putty in your hands at this point

Mammon:

This goes one of two ways with Mammon depending on how his little switch heart is feeling.

1. "Come on baby, let everyone know how good the great mammon is making you feel" will demand praise, and with every word from your mouth he'll get harder and rougher with you. Absolutely basking in it.

2. A blushy, panty mess beneath you as you call him your good boy. Tears in his eyes, watching in awe as you fuck him. Also provide lots of tender praise in the aftercare. Touch starved greedy boi needs it!

Leviathan:

He's so fun because you can praise and degrading him one after another and he's absolutely living for it

Tell him how pretty he is under you, then immediately call him a dirty otaku. He'll be whining and begging for you to keep going, keep talking to him like that.

Similar to Mammon though, be sure to provide only positive, tender praise afterwards and even in your regular day to day settings to appease our jealous demon

Satan:

He'd rather be the one praising you. He likes watching your reactions the most, and will whisper praise in your ear when you're not expecting it.

An arm will loop around your waist as your cooking, and he'll tell you that you're being such a good little human. So pretty when you make him dinner like this. And he says it with just the right amount of both praise and mockery.

Enjoys the way you squirm everytime he does it. The way you instinctually rub your thighs together, or the way you flush and whimper while he's buried deep inside you.

Asmodeus:

It is no secret that the avatar of lust gives it as good as he gets it. He will praise you constantly, but expects the same in return. Both in and out of the bedroom.

It doesn't matter how many times he takes you to bed, his words never cease to catch you off guard.

He will raise and admire every inch of your body, and explain in great detail why he loves it so much. He thinks you deserve to be told just how perfect you are

Beelzebub:

The first time you praise him so lovingly in bed, he actually gets a little emotional. It's not exactly something he's used to, especially in bed.

But he really really likes it coming from you. He'll be almost a bit shy at first, but then the dam breaks and he's slamming into you as he holds you tight to his body, telling you not to stop.

He'll tell you how much he likes hearing all that, and will definitely try to return the sentiment as well. He's seriously just so soft for you.

Belphegor:

This little fucker. He'll smirk the whole time, watching you ride him as words of praise fall from your mouth.

His pace won't change, but his grip on your hip will tighten. "Yeah? Tell me more, human". Thinks your honestly so cute as he finally starts thrusting himself into you.

It's much more rate that he'll be in the mood to be super soft towards you, but when he does the praise is so heartfelt and genuine that it makes your heart skip a couple beats

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ice lolly, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: You (accidentally?) deep throat a popsicle in front of Min Yoongi. It's not what it looks like! Well, it kinda is, but you have a good reason! You just want to give your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin, a mind-blowing blowjob and you read some stuff online and, uh... okay, that still doesn't sound like a good reason, but I swear it is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; featuring seagull-BTS LOL; crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral); ft Min Yoongi witnessing your, um, attempt XD; my tongue technology strikes again, maybe you'll learn something?

this is inspired by your hapless adventures, cat whiskers. you told me not to do it, but I'm a brat and I did it anyway LMAO get rekt

--

So.

You read this thing online.

What if you just...

"What are you doing?"

You started with a shriek, jamming the entire ice lolly right into the back of your throat, instantly choking and yanking it out of your mouth, only for it to be flung off the wooden stick and fly across the sidewalk, leaving a long, ice-blue streak of melting sugar syrup ending with a demolished hunk of discarded popsicle.

A seagull immediately appeared to peck at it.

You gawked, still clutching the wooden stick, Min Yoongi standing beside the bench you were sitting on.

"Why did you try to deep throat your popsicle?"

A second seagull arrived to peck at the icy hunk of sugar water.

Your mouth was still open, mechanically jerking to face him with fire-red cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the bright sunny weather. He looked very much like a disgruntled cat with his expression, black eyebrow raised, dark brown eyes narrowed, pink lips slightly pursed. Yoongi squinted disapprovingly from under his wide-brimmed straw hat. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt under a white t-shirt, breezy black trousers, and sandals.

Yoongi hated the sun.

A third seagull flapped down onto the boardwalk and joined the other two to poke at the rapidly melting mess on the ground.

"Um..."

He raised a hand dismissively, eyes flicking away from you. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Yoongi jammed his black clutch under his armpit and ripped open his own cold sweet treat, turning away from you to face the ocean.

A fourth seagull flocked over to peck one of them in the head and assist in devouring the ice pop.

"Hey, hyung, what flavor did you get?" a smooth baritone voice piped, appearing in an aqua-and-pink colorful shirt and brown shorts with snazzy sunglasses and tan skin.

You were staring at the four seagulls eating your ice lolly with glee, somewhat frozen yourself, feeling a mixture of jealous, mortified, and absolutely ready to chuck yourself into the ocean if Yoongi said anything to out you to Kim Taehyung right now.

"I don't know. I told them to pick one at random," the straw hat replied.

A fifth seagull appeared, slightly smaller than the rest, poking one in the neck and squawking before trying to prod at the puddle of blue syrup with a small chunk of ice in it.

"I got strawberry," Taehyung replied.

Two more seagulls swooped down, pushing the other five all around. All of them were now pecking at the ice-blue sugar syrup, honking and squawking. Like laughter. One of the seagulls had a weird cry, like a cloth rubbed onto wet glass.

Or a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Disgusting."

You narrowed your eyes at the seven seagulls.

We they... laughing at you?

"Strawberry-flavored things are the worst."

You jumped as someone sat down next to you, ripping open a paper package. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale pink dress shirt with a flashy tie and long blue shorts. A familiar someone dressed like this. He placed his backpack down next to you, smiling brilliantly. Full lips, sparkling brown eyes, milk chocolate-colored locks framing his handsome face.

Your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.

"S-Seokjin!"

He grinned and leaned in, kissing you lightly. Then he became flustered and laughed awkwardly, a little squeaky, almost like a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Hah, sorry, you looked really cute just now."

You blinked rapidly.

Do you tell your boyfriend that you tried to deep throat your ice lolly in attempt to see if you could extend your tongue around the bottom because you read on a certain-website-not-to-be-named that it might be possible to suck dick and lick balls at the same time and you were determined to learn so you could perform said act?

And do you tell Seokjin that Min Yoongi caught you in the middle of it?

Er…

Seokjin cheerfully licked at his lemon ice pop, oblivious to your inner struggle.

"Where's yours? I thought you got one too?"

The seven seagulls cackled. You glared at them, ready to fight.

"Hyung."

Never mind, you paled to the color of rice paper as the deep voice with a little rasp to it appeared beside Seokjin, straw hat and all. You wished you could merge with your pastel floral summer dress and float off with the sea breeze, straight into the ocean after seeing the deadpan expression of Min Yoongi holding a mint green popsicle.

He looked bored, but his eyes were mocking you.

Asshole.

"She dropped it by accident."

"Ah, really?" Seokjin frowned, nudging you with his hand. "Here, have some of mine. I'll share with you." He wrapped his arm around you and patted your shoulder fondly, holding his ice lolly out to you. You felt your heart skip a little at his kindness and closeness.

Yoongi smirked behind Seokjin's head.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

The seven seagulls flapped off, flying above five guys standing near you three, eating icy sweet treats together on the boardwalk this sunny day, enjoying this nice retreat to the sea. A lone seagull popped out from behind a trashcan, trotting over, eyeing the wet spot of sugar syrup soaked into asphalt.

It slunk away in a back corner, dejected that there was nothing left.

"Come on, hurry before it melts."

You nibbled off a chunk. Mmm. Cold, lemony, and delicious. You smiled at Seokjin gratefully and he smiled back, warm and inviting, his cheeks puffing a little like the edges of raised bread. A little sheepish at the public display of affection, but unable to help it when he was with you.

"You might as well stick the whole thing in your mouth," Yoongi said off-handedly, walking away to the group of five guys, leaving you choking on the bench again as Seokjin rubbed your back soothingly, worriedly asking you what was wrong.

-

"YOU TRIED TO DEEP THROAT A POPSICLE?"

"Seokjinnie–"

"IN FRONT OF YOONGI?"

"Erm, it's not what it sounds like–"

"YOONGI???????"

“I swear it’s not what It sounds like!”

Seokjin yanked the towel off his head, half-dried brown hair sticking up every which way, gawping at you with a slack jaw and shocked brown eyes. He was wearing his emerald green silk pajamas, fresh after a nice shower from the hot day. You too, wore a set of pajamas, a matching outfit with Seokjin.

“It’s not what it sounds like?” he sputtered, flabbergasted, partly flabbered but mostly aghast.

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then you opened it again.

“Okay, it is what it sounds like, but–!”

Why did you bring this up now? Well, your boyfriend was asking you if you wanted to take some medicine and sleep early because you said you weren’t feeling well at dinner. He was a sweet bean and wanted the best for you, and the truth came out in mid-discussion. Seokjin and you had left earlier than everyone else, declining the scenic walk home, mostly because you could no longer stand Yoongi making snide remarks that meant nothing to anyone else except you.

“You might need a bit more force to suck up that thick milkshake. Or wait for it to melt.”

“That’s a pretty big piece of steak. Maybe you should cut it a bit smaller, so you don’t choke.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dessert? We could stop by the store and get you an ice lolly on our way home.”

You glared at him all evening.

Yoongi just smirked when Seokjin wasn’t looking.

Asshole.

“Why would you do that in public?” Seokjin was saying, yanking you back to reality and out of your daydreams of socking that smug little shit in the face. “Why would you do that at all?”

“G-Gah, it… it just… just occurred to me…”

“It occurred to you to suck an ice lolly like a dick?”

Seokjin looked as if he was going to pass out and divorce you at the same time and you weren’t even married yet.

“Why, because you’re going to suck frozen dick at some point in your life? Because my dick isn’t ever at subzero temperatures, so unless you’re sucking Mr. Freeze or Subzero’s dick–”

You waved your arms in a panicky manner, flapping your sleeves like a fucking seagull. “No, no, no, I read something online–”

“Oh, you read something online!” he exclaimed, wiggling in place, and now it sure as hell sounded like Kim Seokjin was mocking you while also being disappointed in you and if that wasn’t the most big dad energy you weren’t sure what was. “Yes, because that totally means you should perform fellatio on an ice pop in front of Yoongi of all fucking people! Are you trying to get bronchitis or something–”

“I admit it was a mistake!”

“A miss-take! It was a terrible take! Cut! Refilm! Actually, no, because maybe don’t try to give a blowjob to a fucking popsicle at the boardwalk in broad daylight!”

You smacked Seokjin in the chest and he looked highly offended, finally shutting up for one goddamn second so you could (poorly) explain your logic behind the incident.

“Look, Yoongi was not supposed to be there. At all. I got mine first and you all were deciding and arguing, so I decided to sit down and eat it, but then I noticed it was a specific length–”

Seokjin’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his face.

You prodded him in the pecs and he winced, pouting at you.

“So, I tried to put it in my mouth, but then Yoongi showed up and fucking spooked me and I jabbed myself in the throat because I was surprised and ended up rocket-launching my ice lolly across the sidewalk and then these fucking seagulls showed up, those bastards–”

“None of this explains why you tried to do it in the first place.”

“Uh…”

Your eyes shifted awkwardly.

Seokjin impatiently tapped his naked wrist that had no watch on it.

“I read it… in an online smut story I was reading…”

You perfectly handsome boyfriend might actually get a wrinkle if he continued to raise his eyebrows to the fucking moon. “You do what?”

You poked your index fingers together, biting your lip. “Because… I’m not very good at it… so I was thinking maybe I could learn some tips or something…”

“What?”

Now his voice was soft, immediately dropping the act and his anger. You saw him reach out and place his hand over yours, wrapping his fingers around tightly, tugging. You looked up and he tilted his head, brow knitted in worry.

“Hey,” Seokjin frowned, full lower lip sticking out. “What do you mean, you’re not good at it? You are. I like everything you do.”

You chewed on your lip anxiously. “But… but…” It was a stupid thought and, honestly, not that big of a deal, but it had been eating away at you for a while, so you just winced and let it out.

“You never finish with my mouth.”

Rapid blinking was his response. His eyebrows disappeared under his brown hair again.

“And it bothers me. You always finish with your hand into my mouth, but I can’t seem to do it by myself.”

Seokjin’s lips parted, looking apologetic. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

You wrung your hands, loosening his grip on you. “I don’t know, it seems weird to say in the moment and it’s embarrassing… I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough…”

“No, no,” he said gently, holding your shoulders and shaking his head. “I...” His ears turned bright red and he swallowed. “I just like… seeing it shoot out into your mouth.” He coughed awkwardly, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s, er, nice, watching my cum drip onto your tongue and lips…” Seokjin cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks puffing out, looking a bit like the sides of freshly baked bread. “I didn’t realize my selfishness was making you feel inadequate. That’s not it at all. I only wanted to make it easier on you, and, cough, it’s kind of hot…”

“O… oh.”

He patted your shoulder fondly. “It’s only a misunderstanding. We can do whatever you want next time, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I will do better.”

You nodded and smiled, feeling much more relieved about the whole thing. Seokjin always had the ability to help you let things go, and it always made you feel a little lighter. It was part of the past now and you wouldn’t be bothered if Yoongi teased you any longer, because you had the best boyfriend in the whole world. There was no need to feel embarrassed.

You wrapped your arms around Seokjin and gave him a big, fierce hug.

Only to be impaled in the lower stomach.

“Ow!”

“Ack!”

You jerked back, whipping your head down.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop looking!”

“Why are you hard?!”

Seokjin waved his arms and abruptly flapped his hands down on his massive tent. “We were talking about blowjobs! And you! What do you think is going to happen?” he spluttered, the red creeping from his ears to his cheeks now, matching the exact shades used on merchandise during Christmas time with emerald green pajamas and a red face.

You gawked at him and he gawked back.

Wait.

“This is a perfect chance!”

“No, no, no, it is not, cease and desist, woman! Everyone is coming back soo–Gah!”

There was flurry of movement and Seokjin’s pajama pants were flung off, along with his shirt, and you were pushing him down onto the bed, him panicking the entire time, but he couldn’t have been that mad about it, because he was helping you by backing up, yelping as you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and yanked down, freeing his erection that nearly slapped you in the face.

“You trying to take out my eyeball?” you teased, grinning.

“You assaulting me and you’re upset that I’m fighting back?” Seokjin retorted, trying to hide his smile and be serious, but he was terrible at that and so were you, both of you grinning like a pair of idiots.

Well, you were certainly a little bit of an idiot for trying to deep throat a – you’re right, we’ll let it go (for now).

“I learned some things,” you said excitedly, forcing his legs open abruptly and making him squeak.

“Things? Ack!”

You leaned down and lifted his hard length up delicately, licking a fat stripe from base to tip, sighing softly as you came into contact with the velvety skin and his clean scent, Seokjin gasping above you, but suddenly this was not about him, this was about the cock in front of you and all the information you had complied to this point, ready to apply your learning. You wrapped your lips around the head, swiping your tongue on the underside, and Seokjin groaned, hips twitching but you grabbed them and pressed them firmly to the bed, shooting him a glare.

“Don’t interrupt me,” you growled around his dick.

He gave you a helpless frown. “Hello, I’m still attached to this di–”

You stared at him and slid your tongue out from your lips, swirling it around his girth, pressing the sensitive tip around the contours of your mouth, his eyes widening as he witnessed spit dripping from the wet muscle.

“O… oh…”

You let your eyes drift over his form, slowly, slowly, savoring the lines of his body, broad shoulders, shapely collarbones, the curve downwards to his trim waist, all the while taking him your mouth, tongue and lips soft and mouth tight, breathing deeply, eyes flickering up to his face and his expanding pupils, watching you with awe.

“Holy shit… and you’re not even naked… o-oh, fuck…”

You cocked an eyebrow, probably looking much more confident than you actually felt, but that didn’t matter. Fake it till you make it, right? And besides, every protagonist in every story has a moment of letting go and having courage and this was your moment, inorganic or not, flexing your tongue against Seokjin’s ever stiffening length, his breathing turning into wispy moans, watching you poised over him with his dick in your mouth, still wearing the silk pajamas and yet.

He watched you with amazement, love and lust in his brown orbs.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Your ears burned hot and you tried not to choke on his dick in embarrassment.

Don’t ruin the moment!

Somehow you managed not to freak out and pressed your lips to the base of his cock, hitting his crotch, the uncomfortable feeling of too full expanding your throat, the head practically plugging your airway, but one glance at Seokjin and the suffocation was worth it, seeing him tip his head back, messy brown hair sliding past his forehead, groaning your name with his eyes closed.

You pulled back a little, took a breath, and went back down for the kill.

“What the fuck…?”

Lower lip opening, tongue stretching out, only able to move the tip a bit at the top of his balls. Hm. This wasn’t working. You adjusted and cupped a hand under them, lifting the two soft mounds and pressing them to your chin, your tongue swiping out over them, his dick bending a little in your mouth (more flexible and a lot warmer than an ice lolly, by the way), and Seokjin was losing it above you, shuddering and whining, a mix of curses and your name as you turned your head to get a different angle, the tip of his cock pushed to one side of your throat, determined to see what was most comfortable and got you the best reaction, saliva coating his balls and causing them to become more slippery. You furrowed your brows and gripped his balls tighter, smearing the slick liquid over the soft skin and Seokjin moaned obscenely loudly, falling onto the bed, back arching.

“Oooh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Abruptly, your throat spasmed, reminding you that needed to breathe, and you pulled back, coughing and panting slightly.

“Does that feel good?” you wheezed. Not the sexiest. You grimaced and cleared your throat, asking again. “Did that feel good for you?”

Seokjin tipped his head up, brown eyes glazed over, breathing hard. “Ah… It feels nice, but I don’t think I could finish with that…” Your frown deepened, but he shook his head, sending his brown hair floating everywhere. “It’s not tight enough. But it’s an insane turn on, so I think I could cum faster after…” He coughed, cheeks flushing. “After feeling and seeing it, you know?”

Your frown erased and you nodded, gently rubbing his soaked balls, seeing him shiver and his breathing shallow. “I think I understand, yeah.”

“Can… ah, can you finish me, p-please, ack, you k-keep – fuuuuuuuck…”

You went down again, but this time your focus was on the tightness of your mouth, tongue sliding from side to side, bobbing your head in a smooth, swift motion, keeping your lips soft, eyes closing as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, completely focused on the sensation of Seokjin in between your lips, breathing him in, the soft scent of fresh soap and his sweetness, trying to remember if there was anything you had forgotten.

Ah, yes!

You tipped your head back slightly and Seokjin cried out, heady and erotic, as the head of his cock dragged along the roof of your mouth before burying into your throat, over and over, hot saliva and a squirming tongue amplifying the sensation, realizing you needed to relax your throat but clench your mouth muscles while relaxing your lips and doing all this while keeping track of where his cock was going in your mouth so you didn’t accidentally choke on his dick.

A whole new level of multitasking.

Was the writer of that erotica you were reading some kind of sex god, because what the fuck–

But it didn’t matter, because even if it was sloppy and you couldn’t focus on all these things simultaneously, Seokjin was feeling only pleasure, fingers curling in the sheets, barely able to choke out his words through his moans.

“F-Faster, please…”

Faster? You could barely keep up as it was!

“Please…” he whined and you obeyed immediately, faster it was, because you were weak for him, weak for Kim Seokjin and his pleading face, pupils so blown out he seemed intoxicated, drunk on pleasure, and that made you aroused too, seeing your effect of him, tightening ever more and increasing the pace, the wet smacking sounds quickening, echoing in the bedroom with his lustful groans of your name, so sweet and loving that if you weren’t going to pass out from how fast you were going, you were surely going to pass out from the overwhelming adoration in his eyes. It made you push for a little bit more, push your limits a little harder, made you feel like you could do this.

For him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

Seokjin gripped the sheets tight and threw his head back, chest expanding with a low moan, thrusting his hips up and cock jolting, shooting thick streams into your throat, and your eyes widened, forced to stop, feeling his cum pool, creamy and viscous, tasting the delicious saltiness at the base of your tongue, your eyelids fluttering a little at the feeling of the tip rutting against the roof of your mouth and more dribbling out, coating the inside of your mouth.

Oh.

Oooh, fuck, it felt good.

You swallowed, feeling victorious and insanely horny, tongue circling round and round his flinching stiffness, able to sense the pulse and his shudders, descending again because you couldn’t get enough, so good, the feeling of him still in your mouth, him shivering at your persistent licks and light sucks, stroking his hips and moaning at the skin to skin.

The front door banged open downstairs and there was a lot of laughing and shouting.

Your eyes snapped open and Seokjin looked back at you in sheer panic.

The footsteps up the stairs proved they were being taken two at a time.

“Shit.”

Never had Seokjin yanked his cock so fast out of your lips (sad) and snatched his underwear and pajamas, bolting to the bathroom and throwing himself in there in record time the literal second the bedroom door was yanked open by rambunctious strength and a grin whose front teeth were ever-so-slightly too large for his face.

“Hyung, noona!”

You were laying with your head in your hand and your elbow on the bed, which was probably too sexual and weird for Jeon Jungkook, but that was all you got that this moment. He gave you a slightly disturbed and confused look under his big black bucket hat.

“Where’s hyung?”

You coughed and lowered your hand, trying to get in a less awkward position. “B-bathroom…” you rasped. Oh no. Did you go too hard? You sounded a bit like the crypt keeper. Fortunately, you didn’t look like one, so there was that. You rubbed your throat, wincing at the soreness. You definitely went a bit rough. You weren’t no young spring chicken anymore. You were going to feel that in the morning.

Sacrifices had to be made.

Jungkook pouted, bounding up to you and tilting his head. He was a moving black fabric mountain with his long-sleeved shirt and billowy shorts. “Are you really sick, noona? Do you want hot tea or some milk?”

Oh my God, Jungkook, I just sucked some dick and that’s why I sound dead.

Don’t say that.

“I… I’ll be fine, Jungkook. Did you have a nice walk?”

“Oh, yeah! There were fireworks! I think the city was celebrating something, and it was so colorful and pretty…”

You sat there and nodded, trying to listen intently while trying not to think about how Seokjin was in the bathroom rinsing off his saliva and cum-covered dick literal meters from you and oblivious Jungkook.

You saw movement behind Jungkook’s excitedly bouncing head. No straw hat, just black hair flattened against his forehead, covering his cat-like, dark brown eyes.

Yoongi.

He smirked, holding up a box.

Frozen ice lollys, the fizzy soda flavor that was light blue.

A muscle in your eye twitched.

Asshole.

--

masterpost

[strawberryscouts]

🍓 : closing time ; w/ smiley *･゜ﾟ･*

summary: smiley is a little distracted on the job, his brain filled with thoughts of the shop’s opening day and his pretty little girlfriend

pairing: timeskip!kawata nahoya x f!reader

warnings: 18+ minors DNI slight timeskip tokyorev spoilers (?), fluff + smut, cursing, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, health code violations (fucking on tables lmao), not proofread ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

a/n: well, here it is! my first work on this blog and my first fic written in…i don’t even know lmao. i apologize in advance for how much this probably blows and for any spelling/grammatical errors. i may have a degree in linguistics but that don’t mean a bitch can spell (/ω＼) feedback would be much appreciated and thanks for reading!!

“i can handle it from here, you know…if you need to get home you can dip”

nahoya’s head jerked up, eyes meeting his twins and catching the pointed look he was giving him. slipping his phone back into his back pocket, the elder twin let out a chuckle.

“i’m not about to leave you to deal with this shit, man. i know i’m a little distracted but having me here is better than having nobody at all..c’mon,” he teases.

souya‘s expression doesn’t change. it screams “are you serious?”, and nahoya scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“if you’d take a look around, bro…you’d see that it’s dead as fuck in here now. trust me, i got it. plus if i have to watch you grinning at your phone for another second i think i might dunk my head in hot broth,” souya insists, grabbing some empty bowls from the tables surrounding them.

nahoya thinks about it for a moment, really judging the situation. the grand opening for ‘evil twins’ had brought in more people than they’d originally expected, keeping the twins booked and busy for almost a week straight and while it was an amazing accomplishment, nahoya really fucking missed you. you’d been there on opening day, helping take photos of the twins cutting the ribbon to their new place, helping take orders in your cute little apron, and just being a general supportive presence. you’d also been there that night after they closed up for the first time, bidding farewell to the silently suspicious younger twin while you and nahoya stayed behind to “christen” the building.

“it’s for good luck. if we fuck here, the good vibes will spread and people will feel it and come by the bus-load!” you’d told him with a smile rivaling his own spread across your face.

“that’s a fucking great idea babe, i’m down,” he easily agreed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back inside the cozy shop. making sure he locked the door behind him, he turned off the main dining area lights, leaving the kitchen ones on to create a dimly lit setting. you busied yourself with making sure the blinds were closed, although the thought of giving someone a show didn’t completely turn you off, it was probably better for business if you kept your secret for success just that, a secret.

“c’mere, pretty. you were such a good help today, you know that?” nahoya’s voice floated over to you from the bar area and you nearly skipped into his arms. he wrapped them around you tight, pulling you flush against his chest while reaching down to rub across the curve of your ass.

“it was nothing, hoya. i know how important today was for you guys and i wanted to! you know i’d do anything for you, baby,” you preen. tilting your head up, you meet your boyfriend’s grinning face and lick your lips. he was so fucking handsome. even after a full day of running around slinging noodles, he looked like he just stepped out of a magazine and in that moment you felt so lucky to be able to call him yours.

nahoya didn’t miss the look you were giving him either. with a small chuckle, he met you halfway, bringing your plush lips to his. you tasted the strawberry chapstick he’d borrowed from you earlier in the day on his lips and licked at his mouth for more, making him open up and drag his tongue across yours. kissing nahoya always left you breathless and dizzy, like he was sucking the air out of your lungs but somehow his arms around you were keeping you from going completely weightless. he tugged lightly on your bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away completely and pulling at your hips to turn you around so your back was to the bar.

“hop up here, angel. i wanna say thank you for your hard work today,” he was breathing heavy, you had just as much of an affect on him as he did you.

“are you sure? souya wiped everything down so nice earlier…” you trailed off, thinking about how the somber twin would blow up if he found out what you and nahoya were planning get into after hours.

“angel…this was your idea! plus there’s no fucking way we’re gonna tell him. just let me take care of you how you took care of me, okay?” he insisted, thumbs rubbing little circles on your hips.

you sighed, lifting yourself backwards onto the bar table and spreading your legs enough for nahoya to fit between them. his hands ran up and down your thighs, pushing your skirt back past your knees and giving him a full look at your panties.

“fuck…look at you. always so fucking pretty for me,” he breathed out, barely a whisper but it still reached your ears. the change in his voice had you growing warm already. “lean that head back for me, angel,”

you obeyed, exposing your neck for him as he pulled your body closer to him by the hips. your clothed pussy was flush against his abdomen and his lips were quickly attached to the flesh of your neck, licking and sucking loudly.

“baby! if you leave marks i’m not gonna be able to hide what we got up to tonight,” you whined, weakly trying to push his attacking form back. “i want to help out with the lunch rush tomorrow!”

“fuck that,” he groaned against your skin. “you’re gonna need to take the day off tomorrow to rest up,”

the implications of his words had you clenching around nothing and grinding your body closer to his. you gently grabbed the sides of his face to bring him back up to your lips, kissing his sloppily. he moaned openly into your mouth, smug at how easily you’d given into him. you felt his smile through the kiss and it was driving you crazy and making you impossibly wetter.

“please hoya…” you breathed out between kisses. “need you now,”

he laughed darkly and pulled back from your swollen lips. two taps to your thigh had you spreading your legs for him again, giving his access to your now ruined panties. he tugged them down with practiced ease and you shivered a little when your ass touched the cool table surface. slowly, you began to reach for his pants to undo them as well but nahoya grabbed your hands and maneuvered your body back, laying you on your back on the length of the bar. “did you forget, baby? i’m rewarding you. you can help me afterwards,”

you groaned wantonly, knowing what was coming next. he crouched down until he was eye level with your throbbing core, making you hold your breath in anticipation. “please don’t tease, hoya. i want you!”

his response was to take both hands on either side of your mound, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open and lick a long strip up the entire length of your slit. you gasped, chest heaving at the sudden feeling and your legs tensed. nahoya wasted no time, giving you more licks and taking the time to spread you open for him. from your clit to your pretty little hole, he drug his tongue slowly and firmly, warming you up without making you think he was being a tease. you deserved it after all. everyone who visited today was greeted with your cheerful and smiling face, sending him compliments on his “lovely wife” on their way out after filling their bellies. he didn’t have the heart to correct them, after all…he was planning to wife you one day. but for now, he was content with making out with your pussy, giving you the kinds of feelings he knows only he can bring out of you. he felt your body tense and relax with his movements, then begin to tremble as he focused his tongue on your swollen clit. quicker strokes of the tongue here had him gripping the meat of your thighs for purchase. you were moaning and breathing heavy now, breathlessly telling him to take it easy or you’d cum too fast.

“i know what i’m doing, angel. just lay back and take it,” he cooed, leaving another kiss on your little bud. left hand moving from your thigh, he trailed down to your dripping slit, dragging his index finger along the folds and collecting your arousal. he brought his hand up to your lips, giving you that look. obediently, you opened your mouth and took his finger in, tongue cleaning yourself off of him without being told. the sight of you being so good for him had nahoya’s cock jumping in his jeans, but he had to focus on you right now, on making you feel good and showing you how much he liked having you around as his little helper.

bringing his lips back to your clit he licked and sucked in a steady rhythm, pulling sounds from you that he was happy nobody else was around to hear. you were covered in a thin film of sweat now, shirt pushed up past your breasts so that you could start pulling and twisting on your own nipples in response to the insane feelings your boyfriend was bringing out of you down below. it was so fucking hot in here, your mind filled with steam and pleasure and just nahoya.

“babe…more! gonna…g-gonna cum,” you squeaked out, legs wrapping around his shoulders and starting to squeeze.

he was basically grinning into your cunt at your words, roughly pushing his finger inside you to help push you over the edge and feel you explode all over his face. he could tell you were close, your legs were shaking around him and he could practically feel your pulse through your clit on his lips. just a little more, he just had to push you a little more.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh yes i’m cumming!” you cried out, feeling the electric pleasure wash over all over your body. you were panting, grabbing onto nahoya’s hair for some sense of grounding. he didn’t stop though, continuing to pump his finger into your quivering pussy and sucking relentlessly on your clit. the hand left on your thighs attempting to hold you still was bound to leave a mark tomorrow. finally, after what felt like full minutes later, your breathing slowed and your body floated back down from wherever the hell your smiley boyfriend managed to take it.

“that was…so god damn…good,” you managed to get out between deep breaths. nahoya laughed, wiping your cum from his lips and coming up to kiss you sweetly. you could still taste yourself on his lips and the that had you trembling all over again. “is it my turn to take care of you now, babe?,” you began, looking at him through lidded eyes heavy from the aftermath of cumming so hard.

nahoya responded with pressing himself against your body on the table, letting you feel exactly what you had done to him. his cock was straining against his jeans, you could feel it twitching sporadically as he looked right into your eyes. “i’m definitely not gonna turn down any more help from you, angel,”

-

“BRO! ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING TO ME?”

nahoya blinked hard, snapping himself out of the memory from last week. souya was pissed, nothing new but still not fun. what the hell had he even been saying?

“umm…yes? no? i don’t know..but you’re right. i am about to head out for the day,”

souya rolled his eyes hard at the redundancy his brother was spouting off, and watched as the older twin shrugged off his apron and untied the bandanna keeping his hair down.

“i owe you one for this, little bro,” nahoya teased, punching souya in the shoulder before hopping over the empty bar and heading to the door.

“whatever…just be ready to close on your own whenever i get a girlfriend too,” the younger twin grumbled. he was happy for nahoya, he really was…he was just tired of seeing him all lovesick and horny when they were supposed to be focused on customers. things would go a lot smoother once his brother checked in with you. you always managed to keep him level headed.

“catch ya at home, alright?” nahoya waved and bidded farewell to his twin as well as the couple people sitting inside the shop, then he slipped out the door. with a little spring in his step and a grin ghosting his lips, he grabbed his phone and quickly punched your contact.

“hey, angel. it’s me! i’m on my way to you right now….yeah for real! it’s been a tough day, though…you really wanna help?….be ready for me when i get there, naked and spread wide like i like, okay?….good girl. be there in 10,”

[kerie-prince]

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

—

requests open!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

um

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

[xpeachesncream]

perfectly wrong | one

summary: there were rules that had to be followed: no one could know about you two, there was no ‘getting to know each other,’ and there was absolutely no emotional attachment allowed. if this could be done, there should be no complications. but somehow, the rules always get bended.

pairing: reader x fuckboy!kth

genre: college au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 2301

chapter warnings: cussing, mature language, very slight angst, some hints of jealousy, alcohol consumption

notes: pls remember that this is set a few months after you and tae have been going at it, so it will seem like things are happening a bit fast. i’m not trying to prolong this series. also most importantly, i tend to usually write shorter chapters > shorter, but more chapters published. enjoy!

> series masterlist <

Jungkook decided he was going to see if he could jump over your couch and land perfectly in a seated position.

"Wait, wait, wait. Absolute silence everybody." He says as he's stretched over, trying to estimate the timing and height of his jump. He had always been super athletic and competitive since you two were small, so there was really no changing his mind on this. He always had to prove something, even if that meant creating his own competition of jumping over the couch.

"It's just me and you." You watched him from the kitchen, making sure the pizza in the oven was baking properly.

"I have an audience, okay? Don't be rude, Y/N." He says as he points over to the fake audience clapping and laughing during a 'Friends' episode.

"Whatever, as long as you don't go breaking my shit, Jeon Jungkook." He was 22, but his mentality was 8. That was for damn sure.

"Siiiiiiilence." He says at a whisper, his eyes shut as he puts a finger to his mouth. He lets out a huff and a puff before he gets the courage to throw himself over the couch and land a perfect landing. "And once again, he sticks the landing!" He stands up with his hands up in the air.

"You're annoying." You laughed, getting paper plates ready for the pizza that was about to be done because you were in no mood to do any dishes tonight.

"Thank you! I'll be here again tomorrow, same time." He calls out to his fake audience.

"No the hell you're not."

"Ouch, nevermind. Someone apparently doesn't want me here." You laugh at how dramatic he is. At this point, you just let him be because that was something you always loved about your bestfriend. He embraced the kid in him and always brought good times. You had similarities, but you also had some major differences. You liked being in your comfort zone & you were labeled the innocent nerd amongst your friends. You just like to consider yourself simple, though. A 'take it day by day' kind of person. Kookie was fun, adventurous and childish at times. He was also shy, but loud at the same time? An introverted extrovert, you could say.

But you loved each other nonetheless, that's why you've clicked so well since you were young. You taught each other things & grew together.

"Here, fool." You placed the pizza in front of him with the paper plates.

"Set it up, I'll grab us the drinks. You want anything in particular?"

"That bottle of Stella Rosa, please." JK knew you loved that Stella Rosa, so he happily grabs the bottle and two wine glasses. He plops back next to you on the couch, pouring your glasses and grabbing a heaping serving of 4 slices of pizza.

You both decided you want a good laugh, so you throw on Kevin Hart's newest installment: Zero Fucks Given. It isn't long before you both are rolling on the floor, almost gasping for air at how much you're laughing at Kevin Hart's stand up. The pizza is gone, the wine is gone, and you're still feeling pretty tipsy. The whole thing sounds nice, until your head starts to wonder what Taehyung is doing and if he'll text you to come over tonight. You know he probably already has plans with another chick though, and that hits you.

Curse this fucking alcohol.

Let's get this straight - the only time you 'talk' is when he's trying to fuck.

And yes bitch, you let him do this to you. You're out that door before you can even fully slip your shoes on. Dick is just that good. It's something about Taehyung that makes you addicted. The way he gives you a stupid ass smirk when he opens his door, the way he touches your skin and gently lays his shit on you until you both become really invested in the moment. So invested that shit hits the roof. It gets messy. It gets rough. It becomes unspeakable.

You aren't friends. No one knows about you two, or that you even know the other exists. You don't know shit about each other. The only thing you know is that he's fucking other girls. He has a whole roster, you'd imagine - a starting five, at least.

He doesn't care about you, and for the most part, you don't either. At least, that's what you like to portray because it's been some months now since this whole thing started and you can't help but feel some kind of emotional tie to him. You're leaving your house between 12-2am in the morning and sleeping in his bed until 6-7am. It's a routine; a routine you've become used to. You skip out on some late night kick-its with your friends cause you anticipate a text to come through from him.

But, he doesn't care. You aren't the only female slipping into those sheets, and boy does it fucking make it hard to swallow. Reality hits hard when you think about it and you feel this huge pit in your stomach. You try to be different, you try to stand out one way or another. But it doesn't work that way. You knew what this entailed going into it, so it makes zero sense as to why you're hurting and getting jealous from time to time.

You know it still doesn't matter to him.

He's only fucking you over cause you let him. You know damn well you're not gonna change and let this go, though. You love thrill of it too much. It's the most thrill your life has had. You're not perfect and you're only human. You make mistakes, but this one definitely puts the cherry on top. Because not only do you refuse to learn, but you let it repeat itself over and over again.

"Aishhhh, my stomach hurts from laughing too much." Jungkook laid his head back and patted his belly. "But that was good though. I needed that."

"Yeah it was. Thanks for coming by to watch that with me, Kook." He tilts his head over to look at you and smiles.

"Sure thing." He checks his phone and sits up. "Yoongi is blowing up the group chat." You check your phone to see multiple unread messages from none other than Min Yoongi himself.

[yoongi] 10:37pm: aye

[yoongi] 10:45pm: all of a sudden, everyone is ghost in this group chat?! you all had a lot to say not too long ago.

[yoongi] 10:52pm: even though you guys are fake as fuck, does anyone wanna come with me to the bars tonight? meet at my place so we can head out.

You and Jungkook laughed at how butthurt Yoongi was in the groupchat. Yoongi definitely was the most serious and blunt one in your group, but he still liked to party and have a good time. It was just how he was. Hoseok was always full of energy and probably the most extroverted one out of all 4 of you. He was never shy. You and Jungkook met Yoongi and Hoseok your first year in college and became inseparable ever since. You all just click with your different attributes.

[jungkook] 10:53pm: lmaoooooooo

[yoongi] 10:53pm: fuck you dude lol

[jungkook] 10:54pm: i'll come through in a sec, i'm at y/n's right now. not sure if she's gonna come though?

[y/n] 10:55pm: i'll pass, i'm tired and wined out.

[hoseok] 10:55pm: ahahahah yoongi shut up, blowing up my phone for no reason. i'm passing on tonight too. im tired from working that overtime *cries*

[yoongi] 10:56pm: you both are boring. i'm especially offended at how i didn't get an invite to your little powwow, y/n. and now you don't wanna hang out?

[hoseok] 10:57pm: she mentioned she was going to watch kevin hart's thing yesterday and offered us to swing by if we wanted to though....... selective hearing, maybe?

[y/n] 10:58pm: ^ okayyyyy and that's on period! thank you hobi <3

[hoseok] 10:59pm: anything for the baby

[yoongi] 10:59pm: lmao you're a brat, y/n. whatever, i'm still hurt by you both! kook, hurry on over so we can drink

"Fuck I regret this, I'm gonna die." Jungkook laughed as he stood up and stretched. He quickly helped you clean up before he figured it was time to go or else Yoongi would have a fit.

"I feel like it has to do with that one girl he's been talking to on and off."

"Perhaps." Jungkook shrugged before putting on his shoes. "We shall see." he sighs before giving you a tight hug. "You sure you don't wanna come out?"

"Nope."

"You don't even have plans tonight."

"Yes I do."

"Doing what?"

"Laying in bed." Jungkook snorted as you shook your head and shrugged. What else did he think you were trying to do? He should know you by now, at the very least.

"Alright, I'm not even going to argue. I'm off."

"Be safe, have fun, text me if you both need anything, okay?" He nods as he shuts the door, leaving you to your lonesome. You swirled the teeny tiny drop of wine leftover in your glass around before picking up your phone.

No new texts. Well, let's be specific: no new texts from taehyung.

You did forget to respond to your oldest cousin though, when he was just trying to check up on you.

[seokjin] 8:35pm: pssst y/n

[seokjin] 8:35pm: psssssssssst

[seokjin] 8:35pm: oyyyyyyyyyy

He was damn near 30 years old and hated talking on the phone so much that he decides to blow up your phone this way. But, he was the cousin you loved dearly and you had a very tight, sibling-like relationship with him. He was like the older brother you've always wanted. He watched you grow, protected you, kept you safe, supported you and cheered you on - especially when your family talked so much shit about how you and him weren't gonna get anywhere with your goals. You know, the fucking stupid ol' saying of 'chasing your passion isn't going to bring you money & wealth.' Your family was all about the titles and money, but Jin was passionate about cooking and wanted to open his own cafe. You, on the other hand, wanted to pursue your art. Jin was the biggest role model for you because he was the first to defy your family's wants and wishes. He was the black sheep of the family with a huge 'I don't give a fuck' mentality and he taught you that along the way.

Don't ever be afraid to do what you're passionate about. Fuck 'em.

[y/n] 11:13pm: hi sorry, jungkook was over and we were watching kevin hart's new thing on netflix over some wine and pizza.

[seokjin] 11:15pm: that sounds fun! sorry, i just wanted to check on you but i see you're doing okay lol

[y/n] 11:16pm: i am. :) i'll hang out with you tomorrow

[seokjin] 11:16pm: how sweet, my freeloading baby cousin is coming by

[y/n] 11:17pm: hahahah shut up! although you're not wrong, i am going to steal some food. but most importantly, i do want to hang out and see my bestest oppa <3

[seokjin] 11:18pm: awww y/n, you're so full of shit <3

[seokjin] 11:18pm: go to bed

[y/n] 11:19pm: haha love you tooooo

And so, that's what you did. You got yourself all ready for bed, believing you wouldn't be leaving your house tonight. You pampered yourself, put on a face mask and got yourself all lathered up in lotion just to lay down. You're in Jungkook's shirt that he left behind (and never looked for, so technically it's yours now) when the guys had stayed the night and some Vicky Secret panties.

You're scrolling through your Instagram feed, seeing Jungkook's newly posted story with him and Yoongi already at the bars, acting a damn fool. You laughed at the video he took of Yoongi trying to dance in a tight, awkward space on the crowded dance floor even though he was never the best at dancing. It lowkey made you wish you went out with them so you wouldn't be stuck here thinking about your feelings and how lonely these hours get.

And then you see Jimin's story from an hour ago. He knew you were friends with Yoongi, and although Yoongi wasn't fond of their group too much, he was still an avid party-goer and mingled with people there. You've only spoken to Jimin once because you had to work with him in the same group on a class assignment. You tried to keep it that way though because he was Taehyung's bestfriend. They went everywhere together, did everything together. He, too, was very popular among the ladies and across campus. I guess it was just their thing.

You assume they were at a party cause Jimin quickly flashes the camera at Taehyung, who's in front of him getting a lapdance from some chick. Jimin quickly turns the camera back to his face as he's laughing uncontrollably then abruptly cuts it off.

Great.

She's forsure going home with him tonight.

You set your phone down on the night stand and put on a show on your laptop to help you fall asleep.

Just as you're about to get some shut eye, your phone vibrates. You let it slip at first because you thought it could be one of the guys playing around, but it vibrates again, signaling another text coming through. You pick up your phone just to make sure Yoongi and Jungkook aren't in any trouble and need you to bail their asses out.

[taehyung] 12:17am: hey

[taehyung] 12:20am: come over.

You scoff at how he assumes you're still up and that you'd be coming over. You hated that. He knew he just had your ass.

track two: hit different - sza & ty dolla $ign

[hoe-imaginess]

vanilla | dabi

very alpha!Dabi x fem omega!Reader 

summary: Dabi isn’t aware that the LoV has an omega up for grabs, not until he accidentally comes across you in heat. 

word count: 11.7k

contains: dub-con elements, scent kink, humiliation, masturbation, hella dirty talk, mentions of blood/burns, Dabi being an all around bastard

a/n: commissioned by K to share part of my ABO fic. Most ABO stuff makes me squeamish so I leave out token tropes (aka knots) another private fic that I didn’t plan on posting so it’s kinda uhhhhh bad lmao. will possibly post more but idk. 

DON'T let the title mislead you ok Dabi is anything but vanilla 

⤰

When he found the safehouse, Dabi knocked at the front entrance.

For a long time there was no response, and he tried again, louder this time and with more exasperation.

“Coming,” he heard a shout finally, muffled across the steel door.

Dabi rubbed his eyes to put some pressure behind them, in hopes it might too take that same pressure away from the sting in his nose.

Some heady omega in the area was in heat, and a bad one; the entire neighborhood reeked of the tantalizing aroma.

He groaned, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his body. He had enough of it running under his skin every second of the day in the form of his quirk. He didn’t need any more. But it was getting worse the longer he waited there with that smell tiding in the air.

He didn’t even know why he was there, doing such a chore, in the first place.

Maybe it was because this League of Villains business was a promising crusade; he’d heard good things and seen for himself some profit in the affiliation, even despite how profusely he disliked the weird hand-guy, or how awkward the black fog in a suit could be. 

The other recruit, Toga—who he found as equally disagreeable as the rest—had all but blindsided him that evening as he exited the dainty bar which they called headquarters.

Could you do me a favor, Dabi? she’d entreated with an attempt at innocent, girl-like charm: a tactic which, as it usually did, failed. The manic grin on her face had only made him want to be away from her company all the sooner.

No, he’d said, and pushed past her.

But she’d skipped after him, steadfast. 

Tomura had asked her to run an errand in one of the more dangerous parts of the city, she’d said, but she wasn’t sure what to do. She was just a girl, after all. Couldn’t Dabi do her this one favor and take the responsibility off her hands? She was too nervous to take a trip like that, and so late in the night.

Bullshit, he’d said, but instead of protesting in defense of herself, she’d just giggled like a lunatic, dropping her pretense.

Still, when she said it was a delivery which needed to be made to you, the only member of the League he had yet to officially meet, curiosity pinched him.

Indifferent as he was to comradery, he was undeniably interested in unearthing the particulars of this would-be villainous syndicate, which included being at least somewhat familiar with his allies. He knew you had been an original member even before he and the psycho schoolgirl came into the fold; but little else. 

You needed a delivery to be made to one of the League’s safehouses? Well, maybe he could oblige, if only to snoop around. Shigaraki was particularly fastidious with the information he willfully shared, and Dabi would take any opportunity to filch information under the boss’s nose in stride.

After all, if Toga, a new—and undoubtedly incompetent—recruit was being tasked with these deliveries, why not Dabi? Why not Kurogiri, who could make the shipment with ease given his quirk?

What was going on behind the scenes that Dabi wasn’t seeing?

Underwhelming as his first task as a newcomer would be, he saw it as an opportunity. He could be a good and useful asset to the League just for the night, he’d decided, when he told Toga he would do it. He was headed to that side of town anyways, he’d said. 

So there he found himself, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as he waited outside the safehouse. 

That goddamn scent that wafted around the building... Why did he feel as though he’d smelled it before? And why did it smell so… sickeningly sweet?

He tried to distract himself by musing over what might have solicited these late-night deliveries, for example: what was in this suitcase he was meant to give you. 

Toga had handed it to him with such a twisted, giddy smile on her face that he was half-convinced it was a bomb ready to blow and scatter him into pieces for her sick delight. Once he’d found it locked, he’d given up on guessing the contents after he shook the thing and the rattling inside gave no indication of the secrets it held.

More distraction, he entreated himself. 

He thought of the itch of his staples, the uncomfortable tingle on his ridged skin when the air brought heavy wind against it. He thought of anything that might take away from the smell of raw heat in the area, but it was an instinctual pull that left him fidgeting where he stood.

He was about ready to leave the suitcase at the door and hit the road, when there was a commotion from across the threshold.

The aroma that burst from the opening door completely smothered him, made every bone in his body feel like smoldering steel; made lightning shoot down his veins and a low breath catch in his lungs.

You blanked when you saw him there, your pupils blowing wide with shock, then, if he read it correctly, fear.

He sniffed hard, his body scrambling for a source to the scent that begged his alpha inclinations to go wild. The inhalation sent pinpricks of warmth down to his feet. The smell was overwhelming now, almost dizzying.

And it was coming from you.

“Fuck,” he spat, and covered his nose with his arm, backing away from the door.

You slammed it shut, your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?!” you demanded.

“Came to give you this goddamn shit,” he snapped, throwing the suitcase at the door. It landed with a violent thud. His limbs jerked with frayed nerves, like the sun was heating his skin and crawling down to his center. “Are you an idiot!? You know I’m an—”

“I do that’s why I wanted Toga to bring it—”

“She had me do it,” he shouted, and backed himself against the opposite alley wall, a hand clenching and unclenching against his clothed thigh.

Goddamn your smell. Goddamn it. Like vanilla. Horribly sweet. So fucking potent.

He threw his head back against the wall, ignoring the throbbing pain it kneaded into his skull, and breathed hard.

He wanted to bust down the door. His legs twitched at the impulse; fingers tensed and flames licked their tips.

It would be easy. Kick it down. Burn it down. Burn the whole goddamn place down if need be. He wanted to force his way in, wanted to claw at your clothes and shove himself inside you—

Instead he took another deep breath, and loosed it on a shaky sigh.

He’d handled omega heats before, why was he like this now? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too much.

“You need to leave,” you muttered from the other side of the door, so resolute and aggrieved that he would have never guessed you were keeled over on the floor, legs shut tight and body shivering. His alpha smell was nauseating you; it was strong and dominating and demanding that you open yourself to him. “Now.”

“Yeah I’m goin',” he snapped angrily, storming off down the alley once his legs restored their loyalty to his head, and not what was between his legs. “Fuck."

⤰

Dabi stroked himself hard and fast and rough, nose pressed into his sleeve, breathing in the sweet tang of vanilla that lingered between the fibers.

He growled out his next breath, and it sputtered off into a wobbly sigh as he closed his eyes and thought of you: those perfect tits he was sure you were hiding under your clothes; your ass, which would look like nice, he knew, with his handprints burned onto the skin; and then your cunt—fuck, he could almost imagine how tight it was, how hotly it would grip him and milk every last fucking drop of his cum—the mere vision of it pink and twitching and spread out for him was like an explosive punch to his gut.

He came in thick, hot spurts, some rolling over his knuckles as he quickly twisted his fist over the cockhead, others staining the brick wall in front of him with ropey, white streaks.

“Fuck,” he panted, chest heaving, limbs trembling. A hand shot to the wall and braced himself there for balance, kept him upright while his quivering knees threatened to fail him.

When was the last time he’d even had to rub one out like this? In a dirty fucking alley? And least of all because of some stupid omega?

Goddamn you, he thought.

⤰

“Dabi!” Toga squealed when he returned to the bar later in the morning. She sniffed the air, breathed in his smokey scent, and flashed a hungry smile, tongue dipping out to wet her eager lips. “You smell so strong. Are you worked up?” Then her eyes were bright and thrilled. “Oh? Oh?! Did you see _____-chan? Did you?"

“Yeah, you crazy idiot.” Dabi slammed the bar door shut behind him. "You just forget to mention that she was in heat?”

Shigaraki, who’d been previously uninterested in the debacle, now looked up from his game. “What?”

Toga giggled. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Did you smell her? Oh, it’s so nice, isn’t it?” The girl’s eyes twitched and rolled back loftily in ravenous remembrance. “_____-chan smells so sweet. So sweet—”

“You caught her in heat?” Shigaraki asked, accusative but curious. “Are you stupid?"

Scowling, Dabi jerked a thumb at Toga. “Dipshit over here had me take some stuff over to that safehouse you got. I didn’t fuckin’ know."

“You dumb girl,” Shigaraki snapped, turning on her now. “Are you brain dead? Or do you really not get why omegas hide from alphas during heats? Why do you think we have a beta like you go do deliveries now?”

“I know what happens!” she contended. “I thought she could use some company. She smells so delicious. Was it fun, Dabi? Was it fun and romantic and—”

“Try infuriating,” Dabi spat, then set his anger on Shigaraki. “You’re no better. Either of you.” He nodded his head at Kurogiri behind the bar. “Would’ve been nice to know you had an unmated omega in your group.”

“Thought you’d noticed by now,” Shigaraki replied, now somewhat subdued, and tending to his game again. “What, your nose doesn’t work?”

“It works fuckin’ fine. Just didn’t realize that scent you got around here all the time was hers.”

In recollection, he put his sleeve over his nose. The sweet smell had vanished, but the memory of it still haunted his senses, made every nerve in his body flutter with excitement. It was driving him fucking insane.

“How the hell do you two work with an omega?” Dabi asked. “That gets heats like that, no less.”

“We’re not animals,” the leader replied. “Some of us can handle it.”

“My ass. Guessin’ that’s the reason she’s never around, huh? You don’t seem very disciplined. Bet you catch one whiff of that slick and go completely ape shit.”

Shigaraki scowled, affronted.

“It was our mistake not warning you,” Kurogiri conciliated the blame, clearly nervous, and possibly displeased by the crass talk. “We were under the impression that you knew. We’ve taken steps to lessen the risk in our years together. We are somewhat… desensitized.”

“Good for you,” Dabi muttered. “I ain’t. A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“Now you know,” Shigaraki said, scratching peevishly at his neck. “Stop complaining. You’ll get used to it.”

Dabi tsked. “Yeah, you better hope I do.” Then he stalked off.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Shigaraki asked Toga once the other alpha had departed.

Toga keened happily, still enamored with Dabi’s untamed scent. Alphas were so delicious when worked up.

“I forgot,” she insisted dreamily. “Honest, I did.”

“That was a very risky mistake,” Kurogiri was saying, black vapors flitting nervously about his frame. “As a beta, you may not be aware of the risks that both alphas and omegas face when it comes to positions of power–”

Toga pouted and whined, like a child whose gleeful imagination had been thwarted. “I don’t get it. I was just doing them both a favor. Alphas are supposed to take of omegas in heat, aren’t they? What’s the big deal?” She had a stupid smile on her face again, rapt with thoughts of desire. “It must be so nice as an alpha, getting to take any little omega you want… they’re so needy.”

“The big deal, you damn idiot,” Shigaraki started, “is that a guy like that is too selfish to put our objectives before his prick. There’s a reason we don’t mess with that heat and rutting crap here. Complicates things. Makes everyone go crazy. Like you.”

She tittered like a lunatic, proud of her indignity. “She smells so good, Tomura. It’s not fair. Not fair at all.”

⤰

After your heat, once you’d returned to the bar, you ignored Dabi to the best of your ability.

At first, he seemed content enough to reciprocate the caution. You both treaded carefully: any eye-contact made would be swiftly curtailed with averted gazes; you cleared a room whenever he entered, and vice versa, he acted as though you were invisible to him.

It would be fine, you’d told yourself. You’d dealt with the ugly dynamics your omega lifestyle wrought countless times. You could do it again. Dabi was a new recruit, after all. Promising—albeit coarse—according to Tomura. His contribution to the team far outweighed the plights of your personal struggles. You would be fine. It would be fine.

But those lofty self-reassurances were short-lived.

You were sitting in one of the bar’s empty rooms when he sought you out. You smelled him before he rounded the corner, and fear gripped you when the alpha bouquet invaded your senses. But then something else came to seek your submission: an instinctual calling on the wisps of his scent, bringing an anxious and conflicting nostalgia back to you.

God his smell had followed you for days: a smokey aroma, but something so fresh underneath it, like cold mint. You’d never been so enthralled by a scent before, never been so tempted to give in to carnal desire and offer yourself to a being nature had designated as your superior: an alpha.

He stood in the doorway of the room, just looking at you; you stared back, frozen, and made yourself small in hopes that you might avoid whatever confrontation was to come.

“Your heats always that stupidly strong?” he asked.

You blanched and took a deep breath to quell your unease. You wished to anything that the world would swallow you and take you away from what was undoubtedly going to be one of the worst, most uncomfortable confrontations of your life.

“Yes,” you said. “That’s why I have to go away.”

“Why? I mean, most omegas do it. Usually to work it out themselves, right? Bet that little delivery I made was a bunch of toys, wasn’t it?” 

“No,” you said, feeling embarrassed by the mere speculation. “It was a suppressant. They don’t usually work on me... I’m trying to find the right one.”

The broad smirk that shifted his scarring tissue made you shift uncomfortably. “Suppressants are useless if your heat is too strong. That shit was bad. The smell is ridiculous. You clearly ain't doing somethin' right if it’s always that potent.”

You shivered at the mention of your scent. It was always what they mentioned—the alphas. They always raved about your scent: like sweet candy, some said. Most often, vanilla. The sniff of it on your very nose was nauseating after so long: an inescapable quality that put you in the crosshairs of nearly every alpha you’d met, made you frightfully easy prey to their predator.

“I’ve...” Shit, should you be sharing this with him? Normally you did, with most alphas you were acquainted with. Especially those you trusted. But you didn’t trust him. You barely knew him. “I’ve never... been rutted properly. So, they’re stronger. The heats.”

“Never been rutted through a heat?” he asked, scoffing. “Sounds miserable. You’re all backed up, aren’t ya? That’s why you struggle with your scent so much.”

You were quiet. You met his interrogation more confidently than you previously thought possible, given how successfully he’d intimidated you up until now. But your fear was draining away slowly, giving way to some sense of adeptness.

Memories of his scent had haunted your every bodily cell since the moment you’d first experienced it. Although facing it again now was overwhelming, you’d steeled yourself since then.

It would be okay, you reminded yourself. Conferring with allied alphas was only a necessary tack if you were going to keep the peace.

“I have, obviously,” you answered. “I’ve been rutted through a heat. But, it’s not the same if it’s not with… well—”

“An alpha?” he finished, and couldn’t help the surprise on his face. “You’ve never been with an alpha in your heat?”

You shook your head. And then there it was, the returning frailty so thick that it seized the room. Why were you so humiliated to speak your truths? They were truths, after all, under his harsh gaze or not.

“…I’ve never been with an alpha at all.”

He actually laughed. “Nah. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Never even fooled around a bit?”

“No."

A wry, callous grin stretched his staples. He tilted his head and hummed curiously. “You afraid? Of alphas?”

“No.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Omegas are normally dyin’ to get laid when they’re in heat. Especially when they’re surrounded by alphas they actually know, like you are. Would be one thing if you were locking yourself up to hide from strangers, but you’re not. Gross as that hand-guy is, he seems like he’d rut for ya."

“I just don’t... want it.”

“Nah. You’re scared. I can tell. Should’ve seen that look on your face the other day, damn near terrified—like I was gonna jump on you any second.”

You bristled with agitation, frustration invited back in full bloom now that your confidence was weakened. “Sorry if I don’t trust you,” you returned with grim sarcasm. “You’re not very… decent, to put it plainly.”

“Decent? Nah, I’m not. Alphas aren’t supposed to be. But that’s why you’re all nervous, right?”

“I don’t…” You shook your head, thoughts tripping over one another. “My quirk makes it difficult,” you admitted, and bit your tongue shortly afterwards.

”Your quirk?”

You swore it was his pheromones making you talk, clouding your judgment and wringing admissions from you. “Alphas and omegas dealing with ruts or heats… it compromises their quirks sometimes, I’m sure you know. Makes them uncontrollable and disorderly. I don’t want that to happen to me. Heats are bad enough on their own. Actually getting rutted through one…” You shrugged, vulnerable to be sharing your fears. “I don’t know. I heard it can go wrong. It would be too much.”

“Oh.” He snickered. “Afraid you’re gonna get too horny and flip out or something?”

Heat primed your cheeks in a blush. “No. I mean… In a way. But, thats not what I really meant–”

“So you just run away whenever you’re in heat? ‘Cause you don’t know how to handle it? That’s sad. Bet you wouldn’t be such a stuck up mess if you just let someone rut you through it, at least once. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Forget suppressants. Not just that,” he snickered, and smirked slyly, “it’s awfully unfair of you to be such a prude when you’ve got a bunch of alphas around."

You shivered, not simply noticing, but feeling his eyes pore over you. “They’re not interested.”

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but omegas are made for us to fuck and breed.”

“No,” you said, almost indignantly, “they aren’t.” To be reduced to something so primitive and incidental put anger in your veins. It was a sore, but inevitable topic you were unfortunate to suffer so often.

“Yeah. They are. Don’t know how that hand-creep hasn’t tried to jump your bones yet. I sure as shit would have, by now.”

Then, considering his words, he made a curious frown. “Unless you hide to keep away from that guy.” As he thought of these depraved illustrations in his head, put pieces of his own mused puzzle together, the grim smile returned. “Yeah. I can see that. Putting your own sanity on the line because you don’t wanna provoke your boss. You’d rather scurry off than deal with that guy. You really are scared of alphas, huh?”

“No,” you spat. “Tomura is…“ God, you hated this, hated how his smell was driving you crazy, making you pliant. “Tomura doesn’t need distractions. He’s not very… well-equipped to handle these sort of things.”

You wouldn’t mention how the visual of Tomura’s hands gripping you with alpha-driven need, unwittingly cursing your skin with his quirk, obliging your flesh to break away under his clutches and slowly split you open was a terror that kept you awake some nights.

“I stay out of the way for both our sakes,” you said, shaking the fearsome thoughts away. “Everything works out fine the way it is. We want it this way. We know how to focus on our mission and that only."

He shrugged, unconvinced. “Sure, gotta keep the peace or whatever. Don’t wanna turn the League into a rut fest. Puttin’ the greater good over their alpha needs, over what’s in their pants."

You frowned at him, displeased with the vulgarity.

He snickered to see it. “Commendable of them and all that. But…” He pushed from the wall he’d leaned against and came towards you. You inched away, heart beating fast at the sudden approach. “I’m a little more radical about this stuff, I guess you could say. I think you’d be much more useful if you weren’t so pent up.”

When he crouched down in front of you, you backed into the wall that you sat against, but there was no room for escape. He wasn’t smiling now, only perusing you with expressionless intensity. You tried to suppress a shiver when his eyes rolled down your body.

“Never really been all that concerned with this sort of stuff, not gonna lie. I’ll rut when I need to. Otherwise shit starts getting complicated and I can’t think straight.” He shrugged. “But in case you haven’t noticed, my body ain’t all that suited for frantic ruts. I try to take it easy, if possible. But… I always thought it was a little dumb that we’re engineered to think with what’s between our legs, most of the time.”

And so saying, his warm had slid between your partially opened thighs, which shivered at his touch and clamped together quickly to deny him.

But he wasn’t deterred, and shoved against the resistance, slipping the invading hand under your skirt.

“Stop,” you demanded, breath automating into nervous pants. In sudden fear of being happened upon by the others, you glanced around feverishly, your feet shuffling on the ground to push you back against the wall.

“Stop, now.” Your hands were on his arm, trying to push him away. “Dabi,” you insisted, trying to sound firm. But it did little to deter him.

“See? Bet if you weren’t so damn skittish you’d be putting up a real fight.” His hand finally broke through the tight resistance of your thighs, and his fingers pressed against your underwear. They were damp to the touch.

He laughed, and stroked over the wetness with his knuckle, making you keen and try to pull away.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, looking down between your trembling thighs. “Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessin’ this is because of me?”

He took the wet fabric between his two fingers and rubbed together. “And what’d I do for you to get like this? You’re not even in heat. And I’ve barely got a scent on me right now. We’re just talking, ______. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

At the sound of your name coming from his mouth, gravelly and low, you shuddered, and put an arm over your mouth to keep in a stammering moan. But his other hand came and pulled the limb away.

“Please,” you stuttered out. “Stop.”

“Am I the first alpha who’s touched you like this?” he asked, ignoring your plea.

Your thighs tightened around him again, and one of your hands went to his collar, squeezing into it in meager resistance.

That too he ignored, and looked at you with plain impatience. “Am I?”

You whimpered and nodded, unable to form words when your lips were stuck harshly bitten between your teeth.

“Yeah, thought so.”

Then his thumb worked its cruel intentions and circled your clit. The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle.

“Nah. See, this isn’t supposed to happen.” His thumb pressed harder and your head knocked back against the wall. “I’ve seen some pretty slutty omegas, but this is plain stupid.”

“I’m—” You practically hiccuped through a whine, and squeezed your eyes shut, your quirk threatening to reveal itself, answering the calls of your panic and ready to defend against his assault. “I’m not a slut—”

He brushed up on your clit hard and you whimpered, defense all but surmounted.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a slut. You’re just damn sensitive because you’ve never given your body what it needs.” He grinned his wicked grin. “An alpha.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“Yes.”

You shook it vigorously now, and your hands came back to life, pushing at him. “No.”

“Yes, _____,” he breathed, laughing. “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Alpha, omega, whatever—those instincts make your brain all mushy if you don’t get it under control. You’ve got some dissonance going on in your head. You’re really letting yourself go because of it. You wanna be a good ally for your boss, but you can’t, because you’re too scared to—"

“I’m not,” you insisted, eyes wrenching themselves open to look at him. He was amused, depravedly amused, but still remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he was teasing you. “I just don’t want it–”

He snorted loudly, and you were sure the sound would echo and bring someone upon the spectacle. “You don’t want it? Seriously? Now you’re just in denial.”

His fingers coiled around your panties and shoved against your bare skin; your pussy was wet and warm to the touch.

“I can smell your slick, holy fuck,” he muttered. For the first time, though everything up until this point had been cruelly entertaining but not entirely stimulating, he felt his cock twitch, and his mouth water. He hummed. “Bet you taste like vanilla, too, don’t you?”

“St-stop,” you stuttered, face going hot with embarrassment, hiding it against your shoulder as if it would help mitigate the fluster.

He let go of the arm he’d been restraining, put a hand on your knee, and tried to push your legs open. He was surprised when met with resistance; you kept your thighs locked together like a vice, making it substantially more difficult to move his fingers on your clit the way he wanted.

He scoffed.

“Open your legs,” he demanded of you, and felt your body twitch at the command.

He looked at you, and was pleased to find you staring back, wide-eyed and jolted. His blue eyes narrowed autocratically.

He spoke his command slower, but with more authority, “Open them. Now."

And when you did, he let out a breathy laugh of satisfaction, and admired the mess of wetness between your thighs. “See? See how easy that was?”

One hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh—shit, the skin was practically begging for his teeth to sink in, to make you bleed, to mark you—while the occupied continued its ministrations, fingers jerking quickly over your pink clit.

"What if I were some enemy tryin’ to get some information out of you, huh? You’d probably spill everything about the League to another alpha the second he gave your pussy any attention. Shit,” he laughed, head cocking curiously as he played with the folds of your cunt, “I’m just teasin' you a little and you’re already dripping, for one. For two, following my every command like a good little whore.”

You shook your head, wordless in your denial. You thought you could taste blood in your mouth from your own lips, teeth digging in harshly to give your body any sensation to distract from the burgeoning pleasure. Your nerves were trampling over one another, all of them somehow alight with fire, but numb all the same.

“Imagine what I, or any other alpha, really, could get you to do with a cock inside you. Ever think of that? And if you were in heat?” He scoffed. “Forget it. You’re pretty much a liability at this point. Don’t know why the hell your boss keeps you around. It’s pathetic.”

Bracing both hands on his shoulders, you loosed a strangled moan of frustration, fingers biting into his clothes, pressing against the lean muscle beneath. He didn’t seem to care, too focused on the pink, twitching flesh now turning red from his fingers' abuse. He swiped his pointer and middle across your clit in a dizzying pace, until the tendons in his wrists burned and his knuckles ached. But your scent… fuck, the fucking scent—

He prided himself on his practiced fortitude against alpha instincts; his body, wracked by the toll of his quirk, was vulnerable as it was. Willpower was necessary to stave off the feral hunger that often made him forget his own fragility and indulge the fierceness of ruts and heats. It always ended with loose staples and bloody rivulets along his skin. Self-aware as he was of his own limitations, he so rarely let himself indulge his body’s desires.

But fuck if you weren’t testing him.

You were close, you knew, your body spasming and breath catching in every interval. You panicked, tried to fight it, but it was as though his fingers had caged your volition somewhere in the back of your mind, and instead propagated all senses to pleasure.

“Fucking tease,” he muttered under his breath, but you barely heard him above the frenzied din in your brain.

Just as you felt something in you stirring irrevocably, both his hands left you, and he stood to his feet.

You nearly toppled over, and spilt over yourself awkwardly to try and catch yourself on the ground. The wet slide between your thighs was horribly palpable, and horribly embarrassing.

You panted as you gathered yourself, looking up at him in flustered awe as you shut your thighs and protectively shoved your skirt back into place.

He was admiring his fingers, the wetness coating them, and when he noticed your gaze, waved them at you teasingly. “See this?”

So wet, you thought, humiliated, as a sticky strand started to spill from his finger. You shivered, your face sweltering and flushed.

“This is your body’s way of telling you that it’s beggin’ to be filled.”

You shuddered, and held yourself miserably, trying to fight the unsatisfied heat in your veins with calming breaths. “You’re horrible,” you whispered, your mouth dry.

“Nah. I’m being a nice guy. The only smart one around here, too, looks like.”

He licked at his fingers, a shudder going down his spine when he tasted the sweetness. It was unreal. “This is ridiculous. You wouldn’t have to worry so much about scurrying away from alphas if your smell wasn’t so strong. If you’re heat wasn’t so strong. And none of it would be, if you just did what you were made to do. You’re repressed. Backed up as hell—”

“I wasn’t made to do anything,” you argued, frustration returning.

“You can keep sayin’ it, but it doesn’t make it any less true. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, honestly. Got everyone jumpin’ through hoops for you because you’re so damn sensitive. I ain’t gonna do that.”

You sat there in a heap, fidgeting uncomfortably and fighting for any sense of self-determination you could. He’d said his scent was scant, but you swore it was filling the room, pulping your thoughts and dizzying your nauseous head.

“Clearly you’ve been stuck with some pretty underwhelming alphas until now,” he said. “So I’m gonna do you a favor. Next time you’re in heat, find me, and I’ll do something about it.”

He wiped his dirtied fingers on his shirt, then left you there.

⤰

A month later, Dabi got a call.

“What?” he answered curtly, thinking it was Shigaraki from a burner number. The boss did that sometimes, despite there being little need for throwaways. It was theatrical and annoying.

“It’s me.”

After a pause of non-recognition, you sighed, “It’s ______.”

“Oh?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

In the alley, Dabi admired the burning body he’d just finished off, the corpse kindling his blue flames nicely as it crumbled to ash.

He laughed lowly. “Yeah. Been about a month, hasn’t it. You had some time to think sweetheart?”

From the other end, you bit your lip. “I have rules.”

Something seeped into his blood and swelled within him. Like a breeze carried from somewhere far off, he got a whiff of your sweet scent, just a ghost of it, and licked his lips.

“Seems a little over the top,” he said. “But I’m listening.”

There was a sound in the alley behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

You took a deep breath on the other end, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “I’ll be at a different place tonight. Another safehouse, down by the docks. The first rule is that when you get here, you have to—”

Dabi heard the cocking of a gun. The disdainful comrade of the dead, scorched man had the weapon raised and trained on him, spouting some threatening nonsense of vengeance. The flame-wielder huffed in annoyance.

“Can’t really talk right now,” he spoke into the receiver, his hands brightening with his quirk. “I’ll find the place. Better not get cold feet.”

“Dabi—”

But he hung up before you could say more.

⤰

You waited for the better half of the evening shot to pieces with doubt.

You’d gone over the situation a dozen times, and twice that number decided the uncontrollable confusions weren’t worth second-guessing; dictating right and wrong left you light-headed when your body was already a frenzied playground of sensation thanks to your heat.

You started to text him the address when midnight rolled around, just in case he’d gotten lost—then thought better of it. The uncertain doublet came again: You couldn’t do this. It was dangerous. You hadn’t witnessed Dabi’s brutality firsthand, but the hearsay was worrisome enough. He would break you. It would end horribly. Your quirk, or even his, would lash out—

Then the other half of the fretful analysis: Yes. You could do this. It was natural. It was true what he’d said, about you neglecting your body’s desires, and in turn leaving room only for self-sabotage. The thought of him drove you wild with uncertainty, but so did the notion of not doing this; your body was raging at the absence of touch. One which he was apparently willing to give.

Finally you called him, nerves scattered and patience thinned, deciding that whatever he had to say to you on the other line would determine whether or not you should carry on with your plans.

Almost as soon as you heard the ringing from the other line, so too did a chirpy noise come from right outside the safehouse door: a phone.

You blanched. Before you could make toward the door, the metal lever twisted with a creak and opened. He was there on the other side with his phone in hand, and lifted it teasingly when his eyes found you in the dim room.

“If you’re callin’ to give me directions, waste of time,” he said as he slunk inside. “I can smell you across the damn street.”

You shivered, smelling him, too: he radiated a warm scent, then that icy undertone which always perplexed you in the most enticing way.

He shut the door behind him, locked it, and inspected you. He huffed in amusement to see how nervous you were.

“You said you had some rules,” he started, coming towards you. Your heart started skipping. “Sounds like a lot of bullshit, so I wasn’t gonna remind you. But I guess if it’ll stop you from chickening out halfway…”

His hands were on you in an instant, at your sides, squeezing and kneading the flesh underneath your shirt. You froze. The dumbfounded look on your face had him smirking.

“Not that you’ll be able to once I get started,” he went on. “Or even want to. Probably gonna forget you even had rules once I stick it in you.”

The hands went down, gripped your ass, and brought your bodies together. You braced yourself against his forearms, stuttering when he wasted no time and pressed his face into your jaw, licking, kissing, teasing you with teeth.

Your eyes fluttered closed, mouth hanging open as he traveled down. At his touch, your mind slowed to blind submission. The excitement was stroking a fire in you that you hadn’t even known was there.

Fuck, it was too much. Already, too much.

“You gonna tell me?” he asked between kisses. "Or you already forgot?”

As he moved to your neck, he inhaled sharply through his nose. The sweet scent stirred a frenzy in his gut.

“Fuck.” The hands at your ass squeezed so hard that you gasped. “Goddamn girl,” he laughed breathily, grinding against you. “That shit’s good.”

“I—" You choked on your next words when he spread your thighs apart from behind, fingers curling under your skirt to feel for your panties. “The rules, I—”

“You better spit it out,” he warned, coming up to look at you, eyes fixed with hunger. “I’m not a patient guy. I’m really gonna pounce on you in a second if you don’t get on with it.”

It struck apprehension into you. You breathed out the words hurriedly, “Don’t mate me. Don’t give me a mating mark—”

He laughed in your face, making you blush, then went back to kissing at your neck.

“Didn’t plan on it. Don’t want a mate. Probably never will.” He kissed hard at your neck, breathed in your scent again with a hum. “Besides, even if I did, you’re not bad looking and I know your cunt’s gonna be nice and tight, but you’re not worth mating. You’re high-strung. It’s annoying.”

You bristled with anger, but his warmth was making every other sense dull to you. When his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder, you were wrangled back to focus.

“No marks,” you warned, just as his teeth sank in, and nudged away gently to dissuade him. “Don’t leave any. Kurogiri and Tomura can’t see–”

“I don’t give a fuck who sees,” he replied harshly, coming up to look at you. “Who cares? They were dumb enough to leave you unmated and practically dyin’ for a fuck, so forget them. I’m doing you a favor here, remember that. You can have some rules, but I’m doing whatever the hell I need to do.”

His fingers rubbed hard at your panties; they were wet to the touch. "Not like you’re gonna run out now. You’re fucking soaked.” With a pleased growl he went to your neck again, biting hard.

You squealed, but before he could start sucking at the skin, you reeled back and moved away from him. You pushed at his forehead with a hand, and he smacked it away.

“Then no,” you sighed out shakily once you’d gotten his attention. "We’re done here.”

You spoke it with such confidence that it actually earned you his consideration. He stared at you, half-impressed, but mostly, furious.

“If you can’t listen to me,” you muttered, braving his piercing eyes willingly, "then… then fuck off.”

He was scowling at you now, and without warning his fingers pinched your clit.

You gasped sharply and raggedly at the feeling, melting into his touch with weak legs. He had to hold you upright to prevent you from collapsing, and against your ear, he huffed angrily.

“That’s what I fucking thought, stupid slut.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress at your feet.

You were too dizzy to make a protest when he climbed over you, and had no voice on which to loose it when he ripped—literally ripped—your shirt apart and attacked your chest with harsh bites and licks. Your nipples got the worst of it: he went for them with a growl in his throat, claiming the peaks between his teeth, biting down so hard you squealed and kicked.

“You really don’t have a goddamn clue how this works, do you?” he was breathing out harshly. “What an alpha does to an omega?” He looked up at you. Your eyes were watery and trembling as they gawked down at him. “What I can do to you?”

His lips went down, and he shoved your skirt off of your legs, the panties going too. You had enough sense in you to shut your thighs, which made him scoff, and yank them apart painfully.

“Don’t you fuckin’ try it. This is mine right now. You and your little cunt, mine. Like it’s supposed to be.”

He knew even as the words came from his mouth like venom, that your scent, coupled with his long-unreleased pheromones, were pushing him to a point of brutality. He’d never been so prone to complete and utter dominance like this. And now looking between your thighs at the pink, swollen, shaven pussy twitching for him, he knew there was no chance you’d be getting any mercy.

“Look at this shit,” he muttered, dropping to his knees, and as a protest died on your lips, his own pressed against your wetness, breathing in your scent as he did, growling loud and wildly in his throat.

His hands went to your thighs and pulled, bringing you closer against him, ignoring the fingers in his hair that feebly tugged. A shaky whimper came on every one of your breaths, your mouth sputtering through frail pleas he didn’t understand and didn’t bother trying to.

He indulged one harsh, long, angry suck on your clit, and released with a wet smack. You cried, actually cried when he went back in and dug his tongue harshly against you.

“Dabi, Dabi—no, please–”

Your scent made him light-headed, made him forget for a split second where he was, made him forget the constant and residual pain from his quirk, the itch of his staples—made him forget it all.

You came on his tongue without warning, a loud screech dying in your throat as you arched off the mattress. He was too shocked to lick up the sweet cum that received him. His eyes shot open and he looked up at you; you were an absolute wreck: flushed, sweating, shaking, and seized with pleasure.

He tried to count in his head. How long had it been? A minute? Barely? Fucking ridiculous.

He sucked and sucked until you were writhing. He wanted to punish you, wanted you to see how fucking weak you were, how badly you needed this.

“Dabi—” you sobbed out, tears itching your eyes and rushing down your face.

He pulled off finally with a loud breath, smacking his lips, then went back down to lick up your pussy one more time to clean you with his tongue. You jerked and twisted miserably. Then he was climbing over you again, forcing you to face him.

“You see?” he panted. "See what I just did to you? See how fuckin’ quick you were to cum for me? That’s what you’ve been missing. You’re not in the position to be making demands or rules here, _____. This is what you deserve. This is what you need. You need an alpha, you need me, you need this—”

He took your hand and forced it to rub between his legs. You stuttered a pitiful breath when you felt the bulge there, so hot, so inhumanly hot, waiting for you. Under your touch it twitched, greedy to be inside you.

You shook your head, unable to keep your eyes open; the blinding pleasure made a transit to numbing warmth, and your lids were heavy with drowsiness.

Your lip trembled. “Please, I need a minute, please—"

“No. Fuck no.”

He shred his clothes quickly, pulling his jacket off, kicking his shoes off, clawing at his belt and throwing that off too—but getting no further than shoving his pants down his hips so his eager cock could spring free. He didn’t have the time for anything else. He didn’t have the fucking time.

“I was gonna go easy on you,” he muttered. "Just a little."

Manhandling you to a spread position beneath him, he was almost ready to shove into you—then he had an exhilarating idea, and flipped you over, slapping your ass hard and making you yell in surprise. He wanted to take you like this: dominating, and utterly primal.

He forced your hips up, ass out, pussy spreading for him. He took his cock, flicked the head mercilessly against your clit until you were keening. A firm hand on your hip prevented you from squirming away.

“Please,” you sobbed again, gasping, body trembling. The heat. The heat. It was too much. Your skin crawled with euphoric pinpricks of fire. You needed it. You needed it. “Please, Dabi—”

“Please what?” he snapped, fire in his veins, vanilla flooding his head. “There’s no way in hell you want me to stop, so you’re beggin’ me for more. Use your words then. Say it.”

Your shook your head, mouth dry and gaping. “I can’t—”

He smacked your ass again and you jolted, unable to stop from curling into yourself as you orgasmed; the scent of your slick invaded his nose and he realized what you’d done. A dangerous, slow, ragged laugh bubbled from his throat.

“My god you’re so fucking pathetic. Look at that.” He kneaded his hand hard into your ass, pulling and stretching the skin, keeping your pussy fleshed out for him. “Look at this shit. It’s dripping. I want you to admit how pathetic you are.” He started to jerk himself hard, precum spilling over his fingers in messy streams. “Say it.”

You shook your head, pressing it hard into the mattress below. His hand went for your hair, yanked it backwards, and a tight yell tore out of your throat.

“Say it right now or you’re not getting my dick. I can shove it in your throat and get off just fine.” Oh, but how fucking badly he needed to put it in your cunt... “Say it. Say you’re pathetic, and that you need an alpha cock. Say it.”

“Dabi, please—“ Your hips arched upwards, begging, completely overrun with need. He shoved you back down, dismantling your sanity with every second went without feeling him inside of you.

“Say it now or I swear I’m gonna leave you here, _____.” He yanked your hair tighter, his hand flying on his cock. Everything felt so good. Too good. Too fucking hazy. “I’m gonna use your mouth or these tits to get off, and then I’m gonna leave you here, dripping and fucking pathetic and alone. Alone in your heat like you always are, you stupid whore.”

The thought made you whimper despairingly; in turn, he groaned loudly as he worked precum out in rapid strokes.

“Say it. Now. Now.”

“I’m—” Needy sobs wracked your voice, your hands clutching the mattress. “I’m a—I’m pathetic, I’m pathetic—”

“Fuck,“ he moaned loud and heavy, pinching the base of his cock to hold off release, then going back to stroking again, unable to go without stimulus. “What else? What else, _____?”

“I’m pathetic and I need your cock!” you cried out, too desperate for pride, too desperate for anything else. “I need an alpha cock, I need it—Dabi, damn it, please!—”

You practically screamed when he rammed into you, a loud shout tensing out of him as he let go of your hair. He put both hands at your hips to hold you in place for his violent thrusts.

Your mouth was open in vacant stupor, eyes rolling, feeling another orgasm ripping through you almost instantaneously.

“Fuck… fuck,” he breathed, feeling you tighten around him. He growled angrily, biting his lip until the burnt, abused skin swelled and bled. “You fucking—fuck—” Your slickness was in such abundance that little specks flew with every one of his thrusts, making his cock spear in and out perfectly and without restraint.

Every muscle in his body screamed for release, so soon, so quickly. His balls ached for it, spittle flew from his mouth with every ragged breath he took. Your back arched so nicely underneath him. You were such a perfect fucking omega he almost couldn’t stand it.

He shut his eyes tight, hand going to fist back into your hair and wrench upwards. You didn’t protest, didn’t even let a sound leave your throat despite the pain it brought. It didn’t take away the pleasure; nothing could. Nothing could ever take this away: the stretch of his thick, long cock pounding into you, hitting that spot over and over again until you came once more, then twice, then a third time.

He was breathing so raggedly that it branched pain into his lungs; his fingers dug into your hip so harshly that blood spilled from beneath his nails.

“Fuck,” he breathed, almost like a whisper: an angry, desperate, hissing whisper. “Oh fuck, _____...”

Everything was too much: your scent, the sight of you, your perfect cunt gripping mercilessly with every thrust. He bent forward, stuttering his hips into you as his orgasm approached. Copper met his tongue when he bit harshly into your back.

Beyond his control, his quirk joined the fray of pleasure, blue flame flickering faintly along his palms and burning you. But fuck, it didn’t matter. Nothing fucking mattered but the wet slap of his hips ramming into you, the painful bite of his belt at your thighs, his teeth at your back, sharp alpha canines digging in.

He felt the flames on his face rising; along his jaw, in his hair, they had a mind of their own. He had the sense, just a sliver of it, to back away from you, saving you from the heat that licked parts of his face, even as his hand burned char into your hip.

His rhythm was going; he was close. It hurt. It fucking hurt. He needed to let go. Needed to give you his cum. Needed to pump it in your eager little omega cunt.

“I’m—shit,” he choked, swallowing the dryness in his mouth and moaning long and low. “Tell me you want it baby girl,” he panted. “Tell me you want this cum. Tell me.”

“I—” You coughed miserably, body beyond your muscles’ command. “I want it—”

“What? What do you want? Say it, sweetheart—fuck, tell me—Tell me you want my cum and I’ll fucking give it to you—” You squeezed him tight, too tight, and he keeled over with a grunt. "You feel so damn good. Fuck I’m gonna give it to you, gonna fill this tight pussy come on, come on—”

“I want your cum!” you sobbed, tightening around him as if on instinct. He grabbed your hips with both hands, fucked into you primally now, an angry, seething growl in his throat that was far from human.

Flames on his back, on his arms, on his neck. The skin where his hands held you steamed and you moaned in agony, or maybe pleasure—maybe both. He didn’t care. Neither did you.

“Fuck!” he shouted, just as his hips stuttered and fire shot up his spine. He threw his head back, tendons on his neck flaring, arms and legs shaking as he came inside. “Fucking shit—”

He panted for air, felt staples pulling in places all over him, felt his balls burning with pleasure and heard your mangled cry as he gave you what your body needed, what it had always fucking needed.

He didn’t stop fucking into you until his body couldn’t physically answer his brutal needs, and he bent over you, one last and hard thrust sending you flat against the mattress. His searing body pressed flush against you, met your nipped skin in an overwhelming contrast and forced a whimper from your throat.

He bit into you wherever his mouth could reach, claimed you in any way he could without irrevocably mating you. Lost in the heat of it all, in the pleasure that burned up his spine and gave him vertigo, he wanted nothing else but you: to dominate you, make you submissive, fucking own you until you knew nothing else but him and his cock and his seed inside you—but he couldn’t mate you. Wouldn’t. 

Maybe not yet. 

His flames subsided on their own, leaving smoke to rise all over his skin like overworked geysers; a steaming form on top of yours. The pungency of the expelled fumes would have surely made you nauseous any other time, but your senses were dulled to discomforts and pains alike.

You panted heavily beneath him, quivering under his weight. He lay his head against your back and breathed.

Wanting to push himself upright he twisted a hand into the cushion next to your head, tried to work himself up, but unable to with the debility of his worn muscles.

“Goddamnit,” he rasped, then, forcing strength into his limp limbs, pushed up on a shaky arm and righted himself dizzily. He had to close his eyes, reclaim his vision from the black spots encompassing it, then blinked the room back into focus.

You made some mousy noise beneath him. Then you squirmed, tightening around his oversensitive dick and making him grunt.

He pulled out of you carefully, slowly, every inch dissuaded by the tight squeeze. Wetness made a sleek mess of it all, slick streaks down to your knees, on his own skin, too; splattered against his pelvis, dripping down his balls and his thighs. He shivered. All of this, all of this mess for him, because of him.

His seed spilled out of you when his cockhead, red and twitching, released itself. His cum was hotter than what should have been normal. As it dripped down your thighs it felt like a simmering stream.

The mess, primal though flattering as it was, was quickly something of an agitation on his sweltering skin, and he wanted to be rid of it. A hand was at your back to steady himself, and he pushed at it again to keep his balance—that was when he noticed the full scope of the burns he’d left on you. The burns, the bruises, the blood. He looked upon the violence he’d done with careful regard. He knew from a simple glance, and from experience, that the burns were so severe they would be beyond full healing. You’d have them there forever. A token of his brutality, of his lust.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a sigh to steady himself.

“Oi.”

He pushed at you, and your limp body moved jointlessly beneath him. He wet his mouth to alleviate some of the dryness. His heart raced and his ears felt stuffed by warmth.

“Oi, you bring a towel? Something to wipe this mess up?” Your cum on his skin was cooling uncomfortably. “Oi.” He shook you a little harder when you kept to your silence, and a quiet whine answered him. “C'mon.”

There was a tiny movement: you attempting to push on your arms. But they were utterly useless to the command of your body. A raspy sound came from your throat, like you were trying to speak in murmurs.

He leaned in. “What?”

You tried again, to little betterment. He tsked, impatience entering his body again despite how languid it felt, and smacked your ass lightly, making you jump.

“I can’t hear you dummy, speak up."

You gave up, and trying to muster what little forte you could, moved a shaking arm and pointed to a bag off to your left. He understood, reached for it, his muscles screaming at him in ache, and set about cleaning himself with a towel he found inside.

He thought better of doing the same for you, but was again drawn to the wounds he’d left on you. Provoking an alpha-like possessiveness in him as they did, they were unsightly, and some far away part of him regretted what he’d done. He cleaned you carefully, in the smallest form of apology he was capable of evoking.

When the rough towel wiped over your sensitive clit you shivered miserably, and he huffed a quiet, weak laugh, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Such an omega.”

He tugged his pants back up his waist and sunk down into the mattress at your side. He’d mastered his breathing again, though there was a heat in his lungs, like smoke, which made every breath feel powerful and choking. The smoke had all but gone from his skin, however, extinguished by his mind returning to lucidness.

But there was still a trace of the ferocious alpha in him there, his legs and depleted cock twitching when he breathed in and smelled you, a warmer vanilla now: something changed and unpure now that you’d been rutted. And he knew, possessively, with a shot of primal instinct going down his spine and making fire roll through him, that he’d forever changed you.

He looked over at you, realizing for the first time that you’d been completely inanimate. You barely looked to be breathing; your inhales came in irregular, heavy intervals, as if each breath taken succeeded a reminder that you were still alive, awake.

He knew it was the adrenaline still rushing in his veins that made him do it, but he reached out, pushed at your head gently so you would look his way, and brushed the matted hair from your face.

Your skin was flushed with sweat. A damp spot in the mattress must have been tears, and probably drool. It wasn’t particularly nice to look at, but it stirred something in him nevertheless. You were a mess. An utter mess. His mess.

Your eyes were closed, pupils fluttering beneath the lids like shaking leaves.

“Open your eyes,” he said, for no particular reason.

But they shut tight at the command, and your breathing picked up, as if you were debating between obeying or not.

“Open them,” he told you again, no firmer, but apparently, it was persuasive all the same. Tears slipped from your ducts when you complied, eyes shining and trembling.

He ignored the part of him that ached to fall into his greedy impulses again. It was alluring. Not just because you were an omega, but because you were you. And he’d fucked you. He’d taken you. He was your first alpha.

Without further instruction to do otherwise, your eyes started to close again, and the hand that still held your hair from your forehead tugged lightly, entreating your eyes to stay trained on him.

“Nuh uh, wake up. Talk to me a little, before you pass out.”

You hummed groggily in response, your mouth open but too dry to form around words. You sealed your lips together, swallowed the dryness.

“Can’t move,” you managed raspily, staring at him, looking exhaustedly vulnerable and knowing you did, too.

He watched you, debating leniency, and decided he’d give you some, just for good measure.

You made an uncomfortable whine when he took your forearm and dragged you to him. He didn’t try to hold you, or keep you against him. Instead when you curled into your little ball against his side, moaning as you did at having to stretch your body’s abused muscles, he let you. What he didn’t deny of intimacy, however, was the arm he draped over you leisurely, just to feel you as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

His thumb brushed over the flesh of your hip, and felt the corrugated, slowly cooling flesh there. The sensation made him grimace. It was so like the gnarly, repulsive texture of his own skin. Not as severe by a long shot, but nevertheless, unpleasant to the touch.

“Hurt?” he asked.

You blinked lazily, his voice sounding like a waning echo to your numb ears. “What...?”

“Your hips. Look at them.”

You forced your eyes open; they rolled themselves into nausea when you shifted to look. When you noticed the pinkish, creased wound on your burned skin, you froze, then started to shiver in your dismay.

“You… I…” Your unsteady hand moved, a finger traced over the rough, still raw skin. Clearly, the pain was lost on you, lust granted. But the sight had your stomach twisting, its emptiness sloshing uncomfortably at the sight of your own damaged flesh; you could even smell it, strong and sickening like cooking meat.

“You’re lucky that’s all I did,” he muttered, selfishly flippant. “And you’re lucky I did it there.”

You took a shaky breath, and shut your eyes, resigned to your body’s lethargy. “Asshole.”

He humphed. “It’ll heal,” he lied. “I’ve had worse, clearly. Done worse, too. It won't get infected.”

You were quiet afterwards, volitionally so, barely keeping your hostility in check. He was more than aware of your chagrin, and didn’t particularly care. If you started feeling it later, he’d go get you meds for the pain. But he’d known omegas to be particularly resilient in their heats. There was very little that registered above the natural pleasure of being filled by an alpha.

“I’m…”

He glanced down at you, saw your mouth opening and closing in determined hesitation.

“I’m not a whore,” you managed croakily, and irritably.

He started laughing. “You gonna hold that against me?”

“I’m not a whore.” You scowled, resentful of his carefree ribbing. “And I’m not”—you sputtered, breathing hard through a phlegm-choked cough–“a slut.”

His laugh subsided into a low chuckle in his chest. You didn’t see the wry grin on his face, but heard it.

He shrugged. “I say shit when I’m high on fucking. Don’t take it so personally.” But he couldn’t stop now that the warmth of craftiness was twisting in him. “Besides…” The arm draped over you shifted, found your ass, and gave a generous squeeze. You whimpered in objection. “You basically are my whore, now.”

You shivered with frustration. Despite the wild—incredibly wild and earth-shattering sex, you were conceiving a poorer and poorer image of him the more he gloated. With renewed strength, you rose on your arm and pushed his hand off.

“I’m not,” you insisted testily.

“I get you don’t know how this shit works,” he started, “so guess I’ll explain it to you.”

There it was again: the possessive, ravenous wildfire in his veins that coaxed his arm to reclaim its spot at your back, bring you closer to him. Adjusting his position, he let your head rest on his stomach; your legs curled comfortably around his own for comfort. He watched your head rise and fall as he breathed steadily.

“May not have mated you,” he went on, anticipating your griping, "but I’m your alpha now.”

You tensed at the declaration, he noticed, but no more than that.

“And it’s gonna stay that way unless you let some other one take you in a heat, which I don’t see you doing. Unless you’re just so dick hungry after this that you let any guy fuck you.”

One of your feet dug opposedly into his calf and he snickered. “Didn’t think so. To the last part, I mean. Trust me…” His hand smoothed over your ass again, and he smirked when you moaned quietly. “You’re gonna be hungry for it.”

“I can’t handle anymore,” you muttered, breath puffing against his stomach. Even those giddy times you’d imagined your first alpha taking you, envisioned a night of passion that would end in ardent nurturing, wrapped under your dominant’s embrace, protected and warm and wanted—you now balked the indulgent, cherished ideal of it. This was not what you had expected. Dabi was not what you had expected.

“I can’t,” you started, lacking the confident breath to loose your doubts on. “I don’t even… feel it. It’s gone.”

“You’re still in heat. It’ll pop back up when your body’s ready. I’m hoping you don’t need a biology lesson for this shit, but point of a heat is to get you knocked up. You get that, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he mocked. “And obviously since I’m not tryin’ to make you a mother, I didn’t do that. Your body’s gonna keep beggin’ for it until I give it to you, and I won’t. So you’ll get your heat back once your junk down there realizes it’s empty and wants to try again, except it’s gonna be a lot crazier this time, since you’ve finally had a taste. Told you that you were only hurting yourself by holding out this long."

You started to follow the logic. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before. But to hear it fleshed out like this, by the alpha who had taken you, felt somewhat like a hazardous warning.

“I just… “ You shook your head against him. “We did it. You said that would be enough. That it wouldn’t be so bad, now…”

“You thought one fuck would fix it?” he asked, condescension taking an amusing slope in his tone.

You didn’t answer, and he grinned.

“You got a lot to learn, sweetheart. Gotta get you through the whole heat, first. Life would be easy for you omegas if one fuck could take care of your problems.” He hummed. “No, you’re gonna be dyin’ to get bred up until your heat is over. I’m not gonna do that, but I’ll fill you up for a little relief.” Something about his own words made him twitch in anticipation, and he put a hand on your head, pinched a handful of hair gently in his fist. “Until you need it again. And again.”

You heart was beating fast. He felt it against his side. “We don’t have to,” you said.

“Don’t have to what?”

“I’m too tired,” you insisted, feeling your body lag into the mattress. “I won’t want it anymore. I’m done. This will be fine. I don’t need you.”

He laughed with such smugness that your cheeks went hot.

“Now you’re just being dumb… But fine. Think what you want. Give it a couple hours. You’ll be clawing at my dick before morning.” He picked idly at the drying blood under his nails, frowning to see it, but too amused by the prospect of your ignorance to regret his violence anymore. “And now, I’m gonna make you work for it.”

“I won’t. You got what you wanted. And I… you made your point.” You shoved off of his body, pushed away from him scornfully on limbs that were seconds from giving out, and sat yourself upright.

Your spine curled and straightened enticingly as you arched up; he watched with covetous appreciation, then saw the red blood drying on your back. He tried not to put out a spiteful laugh.

Let you find the mess he’d made later, he decided. For now, a more urgent matter was making sure his dick didn’t get too hard before you were ready to go again. But you stretched so nicely like that, reminding him of how your body had dipped so obediently for him when he’d bent you over and fucked you cross-eyed.

“You need to leave,” you said.

Snorting, he went back to picking at his nails. “I’m stayin’ right here. Even if I didn’t still have a job to do, this is a nice bed. Better than the couches at the bar, ya know. Nice little nest you’ve made for yourself."

“Then… I’m leaving.” You tried to stand, and failed, legs sliding out from under you and giving your body back to the mattress beneath.

“No you ain’t,” he snickered. “Even if you could find another place to wait off the heat before it came back again, you’re gonna run back to me.”

“I don’t need you,” you insisted decisively, angrier now.

“Yeah, you do. I’m your alpha now, remember?” He saw your shoulders rise with a heavy, angry breath. “You said it yourself. You’re pathetic, and you need an alpha cock. And right now, that’s mine."

“…Fuck you.”

He cackled patronizingly, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, giving no stock to your anger at all.

Indignation compelled you to your feet, wobbling, a hand going between your thighs to feel the hot throbbing there.

That was when you noticed the blood, and some of the bruises. You shook your head, infuriated with yourself, and with him.

“You’re… sick,” you muttered. “I can’t believe I let you… You’re a sick bastard."

He chuckled dismissively, and stopped himself from reaching out to grab you like he wanted to—that attitude of yours made you really fuckable.

Instead he rested back into the mattress, forcing his hands to keep busy on his nails, on his staples.

“Keep it up sweetheart,” he muttered. "When you’re wet for me again in a few hours, I’m gonna remember you said that."

“Fuck you,” you said again, too disillusioned to think carefully on the foreboding, and found your clothes.

Then, forgetting he’d torn them, you threw the tattered garb at him.

He ignored you, unfazed, flicking the ineffectual shirt off his chest as you rummaged through your bag for a new one.

You pulled it over your head, then, with a final glare of indignant reproval, walked off.

He didn’t bother asking where you were going. He knew you would be back.