#and realized I shouldn’t do that bc it’s the whole reason I keep FUCKING UP THE EYES

[aquatic-batt]

okay slay we trying something new

[yuwuta]

okk but what do u think about poly bakudeku i feel like this has to be f2l all three of u childhood friends but idk im handing the mic to u yuwuta

i’ve tried to be sane looking at this ask but the same three scenarios keep rotating in my head so allow me to explain them all but you’re so right on the childhood friends pipeline. it truly is the strongest trope of them all <3

version one: those idiots get together first and they’re kind of mad that you’re so happy for and supportive of them. shouldn’t you feel some kind of resentment that they left you out? shouldn’t you be pinching izuku’s cheek and punching katsuki’s arm for them getting together without you? you’ve beat them up for much less so why are you so complacent about this? it makes them angry, it makes them confused; they didn’t start seeing each other just to spite you but they expected something stronger than this. you’re supposed to want them as much as they want each other, it’s supposed to be the three of you. what’s it going to take for you to grab them and demand that they carve out space for you too, when are you going to make them yours again

alternatively: the two of them being your guard dogs in a sense. they fight amongst themselves just as much as they’re willing to fight off others for your attention. contrary to popular belief, izuku is worse than katsuki. he’s the one that leaves dead rodents in the lockers of boys who send you valentines, leaves cryptic anonymous messages in their game chats and inboxes of coworkers who stare at you a little too long, sends bouquets of knives with just the right smear of blood to the bartender who can’t seem to get a hint. katsuki is much more in the shadows, an intimidating presence that fends off hopeful suitors—but really he’s more concerned with keeping you in, than keeping others out. katsuki’s role is to remind you how good you have it with him and izuku, to show you how nice it is to have two people who care about you this much, to get you to see that they’ve already ruined you for anybody else bc he can guarantee not a single other person could do for you what they’re willing to. or whatever 😚

more alternatives: it takes you going abroad for both katsuki and izuku to realize that the reason their last three dates have been awkward is because they’re missing you. that the reason kissing and confessing felt wrong despite having such strong feelings is because you’re not there and falling into each other is great but they wish they could catch you too. knowing those idiots they’d show up to wherever it is you are, izuku huffing and knocking on your door incessantly and when you ask him what the fuck he’s doing there his breaths are still labored when he smiles and says, “i raced kacchan here… told him i would win… ha—we, we have something to tell you—” and then loud, angry footsteps can be heard from the stairway and a very red in the face katsuki emerging to say that izuku better not be confessing without him. and the whole time you’re just blinking and figure you guys should probably not do this in the hallway

[aceofwaffles]

My mom got the new Xbox for Christmas bc she wanted to play Starfield, and I was excited when I realized I could play Sims 4 again. We have been unable to ever since they transferred to the EA app, as the app caused extreme lag, overheating, and other problems for our computer (uninstalling it fixed these problems). Again, I was excited, and got the base game and romantic garden stuff as they were both free, but more recently I’ve been feeling very disappointed that I don’t have access to the packs I had on pc. (I looked it up, and there is no way to transfer.)

We had a lot of packs: Get to Work, Seasons, Pets, Get Together, Get Famous, Island Living, University, Cottage Living, Vampires, Dine Out, Parenting, and a few Stuff Packs too. You can do the math, but in total I’m sure it cost us over $100, plus the cost of the base game which we bought before it was free.

In short, we spent a lot of money on this product which we were suddenly unable to play due to a now necessary app fucking up our computer. And now that I have a way to play the game without fucking up my computer, I still can’t use the dlcs I spent so much money on for, from what I can tell, no reason. My instinct is to download some of the ones I really feel I need (Cottage Living), and potentially some of the new ones I’m interested in (For Rent), but I really don’t want to give them money for screwing me over.

Btw, this is actually what ‘Capitalism breeds innovation’ means. This is the innovation. It’s an innovative way to get me to pay for the product twice. All you have to do is NOT make it so I can keep it. It’s pretty effective, too. Again, it’s almost working even though I know I’m getting screwed, bc I like the Sims 4, and I like my packs. But no, fuck this. I almost feel like I could sue them for this if I really tried, and if I felt like it was worth the money and time it took to do that.

They literally made my product unusable, and now it’s impossible to get it back, even though I feel like it really shouldn’t be, since it has my data! It has my sims! But not the stuff I actually paid for!!

Yeah, fuck EA and their money-grubbing tactics. This whole thing is a scam.

[dearreader]

i really liked the seven husbands of evelyn hugo and i had no idea it was an unpopular opinion on tumblr until now 😭 that being said, i do want to know why (in your opinion) it's so hated bc i'd like to understand

uhhhhh i can’t fully answer why it’s hated here. i did like it at first but over time i just realized it’s not the best.

1. taylor jenkins reid got evelyns ethnicity wrong as i saw someone point out that where she says she’s from her family would drink rum and not tequila (if i remember right)

2. i personally don’t like how she handled celia’s character over time. she spent the majority of the book being biphobic and insecure that evelyn would leave her then she is just accepting of evelyn being bi right at the end. i understand it was a different time but we weren’t really given any like formal conversation about it and it feels very… cheap i guess to just throw it in at the end. (im also just really tired of seeing sapphic relationships where one party is insecure the other would leave her for a man but that’s a whole other can of worms)

3. i don’t like how connor hugo (i think that’s her name, it’s evelyn and harry’s daughter) was treated. she was a very minor character and we only see her in chunks and it’s her being stable before harry dies, her being a wild child after his death, evelyn literally telling her she’s gay and so was her dad and they had a lavender marriage only for her to say “i don’t care please just get out”, then she becomes buddy buddy with celia’s brother and magically all her issues that are from her fathers death are solved. like that’s a fine arc but we weren’t shown any of that and she in my opinion should’ve had more story time. but the point of the biography is to talk about her relationships so it wouldn’t really come up

4. i think TJR handled celia’s biphobia poorly (as stated before) but i also think she handled evelyns reaction to it poorly. like it might’ve just been evelyn assigning blame to herself in grief but the second time they broke up stemmed a lot more from celia being insecure about evelyn leaving her for a man rather than evelyn not fully considering celia’s feeling like when she married mick riva in vegas. like yes, evelyn should’ve said she was going to have sex with him but her being so fucking upset that she was planning on doing a quickie wedding to keep suspicions off them having an affair and RUINING both their lives feels really fucking weird. like yes, they shouldn’t have had to hide their relationship like celia says, but celia should be very well acquainted with what would happen to them and their careers if they’re found out. but again in my opinion celia’s reaction to that was more due to, how TJR says it, celia viewed evelyn as “a lesbian when she was happy and a straight woman when she was upset”. the second time though i’ll give more evelyn credit on her saying it’s primarily her fault since she should told celia she was going to do a sex scene with her ex husband, but celia still being so hurt and offended about harry and evelyn having sex so evelyn could get pregnant (to once again AVOID SUSPICION THAT THEYRE GAY) to the point she wouldn’t let evelyn do things for her job and career because it made her insecure doesn’t leave a good taste in my mouth. like the biphobia should’ve been explored a lot more and feels oddly used at times.

5. this book has done irreparable damage to gaylors/kaylors as a lot of them now think this somehow proves taylor swift is gay and will one day come out ala evelyn hugo style and have just now assumed she closeted despite taylor saying she’s straight and uncomfortable by people saying she’s dating/fucking her friends (like REPEATEDLY). so i personally don’t like the book for that reason too

that’s all i can think of and i’m running late ti get ready for work now but if i think of anymore i can add to this (full disclosure haven’t read this book since 2021 and i did enjoy it at first)

[teecupangel]

From @somethingtodowithfruit

They look like steamed wontons. But yes, garlic definitely came to mind first.

And from @a-friend-of-a-friend

Tbh I thought that the two garlic-ish things were some type of gyozas or something like that, and tbh the woman on the previous chapter seem concerned about Noa, but idk tbh, and as always thank you so much for your review

Pd: also sad bc Edward doesn't have talk about Caroline :(

You guys are right. They’re meant to be some kind of Chinese dumplings. I feel so bad for not realizing it. I’m sorry, Tabii TTATT

Yeah, I can see why it seems like she’s concerned about Noa. She does talk about how they’re taking all the necessary precautions concerning ‘Animus Usage’ but these lines kinda make that sus.

It’s sus because this could be her being blunt that Noa is valuable and that’s the reason why they’re doing everything to keep him alive.

And it’s also sus because these lines felt like she was defending her actions to the boss lady. If she has any ulterior motive for keeping Noa alive (a good reason or not), this whole ‘we need him alive’ explanation works well to defend and camouflage her actions.

(Sidebar: if this ‘Shimazu’ Sei turn out to be Noa’s mother, I’m just gonna shake my head because that’s the setup they had for the modern day AC Black Flag manga which was non-canon)

I wanna say Edward doesn’t talk about Caroline because he had moved on or maybe the Abstergo Animus deemed such ‘memories’ unnecessary. But speaking of Kenways, I’m sad we don’t even see Jenny at all even when Edward talked about her. Would be nice to see an in-between image of her as all we have is the child version and the grown-up version from Black Flag (and I guess the image from that Unity side-story).

From @thedragonqueen1998

One theory i have that could explain the "errors are good" thing is that the subject realises that the details of the memory is wrong(like, they are in the wrong clothes, the rooms isnt where the're supposed to be etc), because the're so in sync with their ancestor. Though, the way its worded makes it sound pretty stupid even if thats the theory they use.

That could work but we usually know that something is wrong because the Animus informs us anyway? Like the whole point of the HP bar of AC games, especially in AC1, was that it’s meant to represent the amount of ‘wrong’ actions we’ve done. The closer we are to the last bar, the closer we are to finally desyncing, so there’s already a built-in ‘warning system’ in place.

Also, Noa always looked like he’s actively trying to do something different every time the error happens. It’s not like he notices ‘oh I’m doing it wrong’ and stops, one time he pretty much went ‘fuck that, shitty dads shouldn’t be forgiven!’. And it ends with, like, the Animus has to intervene each time?

I guess we’ll just have to wait for the next chapters to find out what this all means. XD

Here I'm once again, thoughts on the new chapter?

The woman with the tablet on chapter 4 gives me a vibe of Lucy idk why.

My thoughts on Chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4

Official English translation (the free chapters anyway) here

The woman with the tablet, for me, feels more Vidic at the moment. Maybe if we get a scene with her being nice to Noa, she’ll be similar to how Lucy acted around Desmond (especially if she implies she’s working for Abstergo because she has no choice).

Ngl, depending on how she treats Noa, she could turn into either Vidic or Sofia Rikkin. Speaking of which, Sofia Rikkin is still alive, right? Why isn’t she the one doing this shady Animus project? XD

I can say for certain that this would be a shorter ‘thoughts and analysis’ than usual, mainly because a large portion of the chapter focuses on Edward being a badass. As much as I love seeing Edward being a badass, there’s really not much to analyze as I focus more on the story XD

I will say that Edward getting sanctuary from the Chinese is funny considering he’s running from the Japanese. XD

Also, it might be because I’ve been talking about Jade a bit and I’m reaching but if they get a Chinese character to join their quest, this might become connected to AC Jade.

(But I still think the focus on Noa’s quarter-Japanese ancestry and the villains being the Shimazu clan points at this being a prequel/set-up to AC Red).

Anyway, main takeaway:

Edward’s character development from Black Flag is intact:

The fact that this comes at the cost of so many lives will always be bittersweet to me.

Oh, also…

He hunted 2 crocodiles and if we based it on AC Black Flag Crafting (from IGN):

I’m betting Edward’s gonna get another pistol but I would absolutely love it if it was for a rope dart pouch. The panel would suggest either a belt or a holster though. :(

(Meta: I'm sorry, Edward, are you saying that you didn't load up with your max upgrades before you went on this mission???)

And to end this short-ish thoughts and analysis:

See? This is the kind of thing that would be the same as ‘rejecting the memory’. If ‘Shimazu’ Sei keeps saying that this is all dandy and a good thing, I’m calling bullshit and think either she’s actually deliberating keeping things from Abstergo or this webtoon is trying to push an Animus theory that contradicts what we know of how the Animus operates using genetic memories.

Btw, does anyone know what she’s supposed to be making here? It looks like soup and skewer with perhaps rice wine(?) but the 2 uncooked garlic bulbs make me go “???”

[venusiangguk]

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty...  that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat​ for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

 “So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…” 

 Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

 “I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

 You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

 “It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed. 

 Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

 You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

 You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him. 

 “It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

 “Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

 “Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

 When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

 Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

 You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong. 

 “I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

 You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that. 

 You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

 This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

 His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

 Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

 “No!” You squeak.

 “You can touch yourself,” He offers.

 “No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

 He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

 Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

 When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other. 

 “You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

 You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

 Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

 He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

 Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

 You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

 “Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

 You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

 “S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

 You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

 Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

 Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing. 

 “Close,” He whispers.

 Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room. 

 He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

 “Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window. 

 You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

 You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

 You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

 “Please,” He whines.

 His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

 He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly. 

 His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

 “Um.” You say eloquently.

 “Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

 “Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

 “Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is. 

 You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

 “I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

 With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

 “I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

 “Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

 The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.” 

 “Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy. 

 You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

[sunshinereddie]

omg YES! as a former “brace face” w/ big ass glasses, I’ve decided that Eddie & Richie definitely had braces.

I’m imagining Eddie getting them when he’s kinda older (probably like 16) and Richie getting his the next year. Eddie was definitely super particular about not eating popcorn/bubblegum/caramel/etc. and keeping his retainer clean after he got them off. Whereas Richie did not give a single shit. He definitely ate whatever he wanted and he ALWAYS forgot to wear his retainer afterwards.

God now I’m thinking abt Richie making fun of Eddie for having to get braces at all and then Eddie getting back at him for it when Richie has to get his own. Richie refusing to show the Losers his teeth. Richie vowing to not talk to anyone ever again once he realizes that he also has a lisp. That vow breaking the same day bc someone shoved at Eddie and he can’t help but tell them to fuck off. Eddie is totally flattered but he just ends up telling Richie that he broke his little vow.

Thinking abt Eddie leaving lunch five minutes early everyday to clean out his mouth and rinse his retainer. And Richie hates it bc he wants to spend every waking second w/ Eddie. But he can’t really explain going to the bathroom w/ Eddie everyday so instead he teases him abt it.

And for Richie and the rest of the Losers it’s no big deal, just a silly little joke. But Eddie starts skipping the retainer cleaning and staying for the whole lunch period. One time he’d even went as far as to not put his retainer back in after lunch. When Richie asks about it next period he claims he forgot, but Richie knows better.

That night Richie sneaks through Eddie’s window. He’s already in bed but he’s staring at the retainer case in his hands. Richie knocks twice on the window, getting his attention. He lets him in but he almost looks apprehensive. “Dude, what are you doing here? We just saw each other like five hours ago.”

“A whole five hours? God, not a minute too soon!” He’s smiling but now he feels kind of stupid for showing up. He didn’t really have a plan in mind but he knew he had to talk to Eddie. At least his joking tone made Eddie smile too.

“Yeah yeah yeah, just get in here.”

They end up shooting the shit for a little while, just sitting on Eddie’s bed and trying to make each other laugh (albeit quietly, last thing they need is Sonia waking up and all hell breaking loose). Once he decides that Eddie is comfortable enough, he ventures into the real reason he’s there. “Listen Eds-“ “don’t call me that” “shut up, you love it.”

“Listen Eds, as much as I love “Rapunzel-ing” it for a laugh, I actually came here talk.” And just like that, Eddie’s calm exterior melts away. “O-oh. About what?” He starts to fidget and he goes a little rosy in the cheeks.

“Nothing bad man, just… I noticed that you aren’t like- doing your usual routine. You know, with your retainer or whatever.” God. Now they’re both blushing. Eddie seems to ignore it for the time being though, instead opting to stare wide eyed at Richie. Fuck. Damage control.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to like- I dunno. I’m not trying to be weird. Is it weird? God, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just- you were- I mean! A-are you okay? I guess… is what… am asking?” Why? Why did he say it like that?! Holy shit. Talk about word vomit. Eddie appears to be battling emotions, he looks like he wants to laugh or maybe cry.

“God Rich, calm down.” He’s smiling, Richie’s gonna go ahead and take that as a win. “I uh, I guess I just didn’t think you’d notice? I mean, in hindsight it makes sense that you would. You were the one making jokes about it…”

“Fuck. Eds, man, you gotta know I was just fucking around! I didn’t mean to make you like- feel bad or whatever-“

“it’s not really about the jokes Richie it’s-“ he cuts himself off, gripping the sides of his hair and huffing an exaggerated sigh. “It’s just that, I know I’m being kinda anal about it. Don’t make the joke I know you’re about to make.” Richie’s teeth click as his mouth falls shut. He had, I’m fact, been about to make that joke. Eddie’s shoulders sag with something like defeat, but he quirks a little smile at Richie anyway.

“I know it shouldn’t matter if I miss a cleaning or forget to put my retainer back in for one goddamn period! I just-“ his voice trembles and that all it takes for Richie to pull him in. His long arms wrap around Eddie’s smaller frame as he clings to the back of Richie’s tee shirt.

“I just feel so trapped. Every time I think I’m getting better about all that placebo bullshit, I fall back into the same patterns. I can’t just not clean out my retainer or forget to put it back in! Not when all I’m thinking about is the ways it could fuck up my teeth. The teeth we paid to fix. God. I just feel like I shouldn’t be so worried about it. But I can’t not be worried…” he’s filling shaking now. Richie tries to calm him down by rubbing his back and evening out his own breathing. “I want to be brave. Like when we killed It. But I don’t think I am. That might’ve just been a fluke you know?”

“Shut up man, you’re plenty brave.” He has to pull back so he can see Eddie’s face. He looks like he might cry and his fingers dig painfully into Richie’s biceps. “Okay, maybe it shouldn’t be so hard to let loose but- fuck man! You’re trying to unlearn all that shit! The fact that you’re acknowledging it and actively trying to stop doing that shit is brave man. And you’re telling me about it! If you thought all of us losers were suddenly well adjusted after killing that clown then you’ve got another thing coming. We’re all fucked up, we’re all losers, but we’re losers together. And we always got your back. We love you man.” It’s probably the closest Richie’s ever going to get to telling Eddie he loves him but it’ll have to do.

Eddie calmed down a lot during Richie’s little spiel, thank god. He’s not that good at regulating serious emotions. A few tears escaped but he’s sorta, shyly smiling at him.

“Yeah okay, whatever man. No need to get all sappy on me.” He lightly shoves at his shoulder, making Richie light up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh yeah? Well maybe if someone wasn’t blubbering like a little girl, I wouldn’t have to get all sappy on you.” And just like that, they’re good again. All smiles and shitty jokes at each other’s expense. Richie wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

Omg idk why I got invested in that so quick but anyway! I have more to say!

Richie always gets red bands, literally every time he gets his wires adjusted. Eddie usually goes with clear bc he’s a “killjoy” as Richie always says. However, the last wire adjustment Eddie has falls on the same day one of Richie’s does, so naturally Richie gets Eddie to agree on matching bands. The perk of having Went as their dentist is they can pick any combination of colors they want. They decide to go with every color available to them, in a sort of rainbow pattern, to make up for all the times Eddie got no color at all. They show the rest of the losers & Bev takes a picture of them cheesing at the camera.

-

Went also let’s them customize their retainers, Richie’s is a sparkly (you guessed it) red with a baseball bat picture on it. Eddie’s is a sparky blue with a little classic car on it.

-

Went always wraps up Eddie’s appointments w/ a pat on the shoulder and a “thanks for making sure Richie uses his retainer”.

-

When Eddie gets his braces off he eats so much caramel popcorn that he throws up.

-

Richie calls Eddie late one night, a few weeks before senior portraits, trying not to freak out. He’s weirdly worried about having braces in his portrait but Eddie talks him down. Went ends up taking them off just two days before the portraits were taken. Richie calls Eddie a little tearfully to tell him the good news.

-

When Eddie sees Richie again after the 27 years he remembers that they had braces around the same time. He also notices that Richie’s teeth are less than perfect. He scolds Richie about not using his retainer but all he does it laugh and throw an impossibly long arm around his shoulder. “God, I missed you man.”

-

Okay that’s it. O__O sorry I got carried away again lmao :,) it’s bc I lost my retainer two weeks after I got it and all my teeth moved back :,) talk abt adhd brain ;__;

-🫀

AAAAHHHH TELL ME HOW YOU MANAGED TO TAKE SUCH A CUTE LITTLE HC AND TURN IT INTO A WHOLE BEAUTIFULLY HEARTBREAKING MINI FIC ;_; AAAHH EDDIE DOUBTING HIMSELF AND HIS BRAVERY..... BEING SCARED OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF FALLING OUT OF HIS ROUTINE (bro i relate SO HARD. when i first got my braces off my family went out of town for a day and i left my retainer at home by accident and i literally cried so much because i thought my teeth were gonna go back to being fucked up.... anyways eds and i are the same person).... BUT ALSO RICHIE BEING THERE TO COMFORT AND SUPPORT HIM..... LSKRJGSKNRG I LOVE IT SO MUCH !!!!!!

also, i LOVE the idea that during the reunion eds can tell that richie hasn't been using his retainer !!!! literally such a small detail that no one else would ever notice, but of course eddie does :')

ALSO ALSO !! going back to richie teasing eds about his lisp and then him having to get braces as well- im just imagining that eddie loves the fact that richie has braces now, not only because he thinks that'll show richie a lesson in teasing him, but also since richie has a lisp and when he does speak he generally avoids words containing the letter "s", eddie thinks that he will enjoy it when richie stops calling him "eds" and "eddie spaghetti"...... but for some reason eddie almost feels like..... he misses it ??? and he tries to ignore the feeling of relief when richie says fuck it to his lisp and just starts speaking again, and comes back with all the nicknames <3

in conclusion, richie and eddie brace face supremacy

[altruistic-meme]

AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :) 

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil, 

--

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

--

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty  )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

-

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!! 

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence, 

--

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic. 

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries, 

--

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary​ )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, 

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

-

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point, 

-- 

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

--

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

-

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring, 

-- 

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh 

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

 A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

--

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic. 

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites ​ )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

-----

Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher, 

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.

[neverwritewhatyouknow]

hi! i hope it's okay that i ask you this, i can imagine you must be really exhausted dealing with hate you don't deserve and it's not your responsibility to educate us. i was just wondering that wasn't the mention that nora was spending hannukah the only bit that talked of her religion? i know you've talked about being jewish/being a convert, but i'm still trying to understand this - like how can we know for sure cmq meant for her ethnicity to be jewish precisely? i'm not saying i think they meant for her to be from a family practising judaism but not jewish - bc i don't, i don't think cmq spent that much time thinking about it honestly - but techincally how can we be sure? (not saying that this would a good reason to not cast a jewish actress, obviously getting jewish rep would have been a better choice) but i was thinking - isn't this a bit like with pez's gender? i think cmq tweeted that they consider pez genderfluid/nonbinary/in some way gnc, but since she didn't explictly write that down, they can't claim having rep for that and ultimately it's up to the reader to decide for themselves. (i'm trans myself too) again, i don't think this is a "good enough" reason to not cast a jewish person and i'm disappointed at how they handled and continue to handle this, but i'm just trying to understand/see if my thinking makes sense, if you get what i mean? and if nora was explicitly stated to be jewish at some point/i missed somethin, i apologize!! thank you so much for continuing to educate people - and me - and i'm sorry about the mess of this ask!! thank you for taking the time to read and answer, and i do really hope you remember to take care of yourshelf too bc you deserve that!

I’m summarizing the question here so I don’t have to keep scrolling up:

1. How can we know Nora is ethnically Jewish? (The anon doesn’t think she’s from a non-Jewish family who practices Judaism. Doesn’t think CMQ thought about it a lot. Only Chanukkah was mentioned.)

I already know I’m going to get attacked for this answer, because people are going to have problems with some or all of it. I ask that if you start reading the answer, to finish reading the answer. I’m serious.

I’m going to say first that even the mention of Nora celebrating Hanukkah is enough to have a Jewish actor needed to play her, since that there and then shows that Nora is Jewish. Non-Jews don’t celebrate Hanukkah (don’t come in here with “evidence of non-Jews doing it, that’s appropriation and def not what CMQ was showing).

I went through the book today looking for stuff, it’s as vague as I remembered (the vagueness is something I will talk more about), but I did find some stuff that I think is important for your question.

Let’s start with the biggest thing that shows that Nora is Jewish. Hanukkah. A Jewish holiday. Even non-religious Jews tend to celebrate Hanukkah because… presents.

Nora goes home to celebrate with her parents (and we can assume grandparents, because they seem very close to her parents). Her parents Reilly and Rebecca. Now, a name obviously cannot and shouldn’t determine someone’s religion, but using her mom’s name of Rebecca added with everything else, we can form a bigger picture of Nora’s background. God, I feel like a theory YouTuber. The name Rebecca is common among Jews (obviously not only Jews), but if you look at her name, combined with Nora’s name (which HOLY FUCKING SHIT ⬅️ my actual reaction because I just realized I don’t need to finish answering this question. I remembered reading that CMQ had changed Nora’s name and…

I don’t have to defend Nora being Jewish or not anymore, because…

Casey already did. Everyone asking how to know if Nora is Jewish or not, Casey said it. Right there.

Anyway I was gonna say a whole bunch of other stuff about how you can tell Nora is Jewish in the book because of the way that Casey described something and why the vagueness actually made sense in a more meta way… (let me know if anyone still actually wants this)

If nobody wanted to believe me about Nora being Jewish, maybe you’ll believe Casey? The author of the book. Oh and for anyone who wants to fight back and say “well people don’t know about Casey saying this.” That’s not the point. The point isn’t this sentence, it’s the fact that she wrote Nora as Jewish. Nora is Jewish and Casey wrote her that way. Can people be mad about this now? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD This is the clearest answer. Thank you to the anon, I knew CMQ had mentioned this but forgot until now. Thought maybe I dreamed it. But nope. Right there.

[spencersawkward]

top shelf//MGG - part 1

summary: broke and having a bad day, Reader runs into Matthew outside a café. after a couple encounters, his financial support and friendship become something more.

word count: 3k

content warnings: swearing but nothing else!

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

A/N: hi! welcome to my new series. i don’t think this will be super long in terms of parts, but i’ll try to update as frequently as possible for you all. this chapter is pretty expositional, so i’m sorry in advance lol. also i know i made it short but lmk if you want them to be longer. also shoutout my sweet sweet angels @reidsconverse and @voidsfilm bc i would literally cry without both of you. also THANK YOU to @dr-spencerr-reidd for this concept bc i probably wouldn't have written it without your ask!! sending hugs :)

you throw your phone down on the passenger seat with a frustrated groan. after everything that's happened today, you're now stuck on a congested street with your car barely inside the parking spot alongside the sidewalk.

your screen sits there beside you, blank and unresponsive, and you know you're going to have to go inside the coffee shop to ask to use their phone and call Triple A. of course it's not working because nothing is working today. you might as well just sit in your car and cry.

but you can't, because you have a huge project for work that you need to get done by next week, and you've already procrastinated enough. a red glow from the headlights of other cars on the street shine through your windows like melted wax, distorted by the rain. it's been pouring all day.

bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grab the old umbrella from the foot well of the passenger seat and open the door of your car. the torrents hit your body like a wall of ice, soaking you as you try to get to the safety of the café. the umbrella helps a little, but then you get to the overhang and have to actually close it before you head inside.

your fingertips slip around the metal, trying to shove the thing closed while water drips off the bridge of your nose. it's frustrating. your footsteps are still determined as they move towards the entrance, but you're distracted by the stubborn nature of the object, so you don't see the man walking out.

it's not even a bodily collision, really. it's so much worse: the sopping material of the umbrella pokes him in the stomach, knocking the hot cup of coffee all over his sweater.

your eyes widen.

"oh my fucking god, I'm so sorry--" you stutter over your words, completely at a loss. his face is twisted up in an expression of concealed pain. it can't feel good to have hot coffee seeping through your clothes after being prodded by a piece of metal. you move your wet hair out of your face in order to look at him full-on.

"it's fine, really." he gives you what's supposed to be a friendly smile, but looks more like a grimace. your stomach twists; he's hot. like, if you saw him at the bar you would stare at him all night kind of hot.

"no, it's not," your face heats up, despite the cold, damp air. "let me buy you another coffee."

"I--" he glances down at his sweater, which is knitted with cute foxes on the front, then back at you. he pauses a moment and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep from collapsing. he's considerably older than you, but he doesn't dress or act that way. maybe late thirties, if you had to guess. "sure. thanks."

a flowering relief in your chest, partly because he doesn't seem angry and partly because you'd like to look at his face just a bit longer. your eyes stay on his until someone walks through the door of the café and reminds you of where you are.

without a word, you brush past and go into the building, him trailing behind.

Matthew watches as you walk ahead, your clothes spattered with rainwater and your hair somewhat messed up, too. he smiles to himself at the way you almost bump into the corner of a table, nervousness evident in nearly every movement.

you head to the counter, setting your hands on the granite while the barista checks out your unkempt appearance.

"hi," you smile at her before realizing you have no idea what this guy wants. you turn around and see him standing slightly behind you, suppressing a smile. he can tell how flustered you are, and now you look like a fool. "what coffee do you drink?"

"can I have a medium Americano, please?" he asks the barista with a friendly smile. he's got straight teeth, dimples... holy shit. you wish he had been unappealing so that this whole situation would be less humiliating.

you pay for his drink before getting out of the way, both of you slowly walking to the pickup counter.

"again, I'm really sorry. that stupid umbrella." you shake the thing at your side, raindrops falling to the floor. you run a hand through your wet hair.

"it's okay. I appreciate you getting me another cup." he flashes that smile again and you remember that his sweater is all stained. before you can think to do anything else, you pluck a handful of napkins from the self-serve station and start to dab at the material.

he looks down at you for a second, surprised by the way you grab his clothes. Matthew feels your hand pressing into his stomach innocently, and he feels himself blush a little. it's only when you pull away that he's able to regain his head.

"it's still bad," you throw away the napkins and re-evaluate the garment. "jesus christ, it's a nice sweater, too."

"hey, it's totally fine. I can just wash it out." he lets out a slight chuckle, and the sound makes your heart flutter. he's got a dad laugh. deep in his chest.

"baking soda and water." you say abruptly. he frowns.

"what?"

"to get the stain out? I use baking soda and water for coffee stains and it usually works." you explain gently, your eyes meeting again. his irises are a brownish hazel color, warm. the laugh lines by them are charming.

"oh," he grins. "do you get coffee stains often?"

you twist your mouth to the side and glance at the windows of the coffee shop. he's teasing you and you'd be remiss if you said you don't want to play along. "more than I'd like to admit."

you can feel him looking at you with that stupidly brilliant smile and it's really setting you off-kilter. someone shouldn't be that attractive; it's not fair. and yet you want desperately to stare, if purely for the sake of aesthetic enjoyment.

"I'm Matthew." he extends his hand, which is decorated with a series of rings. you realize that you don't even know his name.

"Y/N." you shake. his fingers are softer than you expected.

"nice to meet you, Y/N."

"and under such fortuitous circumstances." the corners of your mouth turn up as you relax a little.

he laughs at your words, the delightful ring of it interrupted by a new Americano showing up on the counter. he glances at the to-go cup, then at you, then goes to get his drink. you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he's not displaying anything past friendliness.

"well, um." something like disappointment settles in your stomach as you recognize this will be the last of your interaction. there's no reason for him to stick around, and you need to get back home to work, anyway.

"I'll let you get back to your day." Matthew doesn't seem nervous, just unsure as he grips the coffee in his hand. you open and close your mouth like something impressive enough to keep him here will come out. you know it won't.

and then you remember the state of affairs, the existence of your useless car and the useless phone in the front seat, how you're going to have to call Triple A and then your roommate to come get you.

Matthew realizes that you aren't going to say anything and he gives you one last smile and an awkward wave before turning to go. you watch in silence as he crosses the room to the door. two more seconds until he's out of your life forever. so of course you choose this exact moment to speak.

"wait."

his head jerks suddenly to look at you. this is embarrassing, but you have nothing to lose.

"can I... borrow your phone?"

Matthew tilts his head to the side slightly, frowning as though deeply confused. and you suppose it is a strange thing to ask, especially given that you're a younger person and most people your age carry their phones everywhere. "sure." he walks back over to you, pulling his cell out of his pocket.

"I just--" you fumble with the device while you decide how to phrase it without sounding like a pathetic mess. "my car keeps breaking down and my phone battery is, like, totally fucked, so it just turns off and on constantly and it’s still in my car but it’s raining and I just wanna see if it’s back on so I can call my roommate." you immediately cringe at yourself. the rambling isn’t cute.

he’s not too bothered by your panicking, though, his mouth only forming an O shape. "it’s no problem."

you dial your number, fingers trembling while he waits. he's turned his eyes to the rest of the coffee shop, but it still makes you nervous that he's standing right there. you put the cell to your ear and pray that it rings out.

you’re greeted by the sound of your own voice telling you to leave a message. great. with a frustrated sigh, you hang up and Matthew gives you an inquisitive expression.

“it’s still off,” you explain. “I’m gonna call my roommate.”

he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets while you punch in the other number. for a split second, you peek his way and admire his side profile. he really is something to behold; a model, maybe.

"hello?" good thing Cecilia has no problem answering unknown numbers. you bite your lip.

"hey, it's me."

"Y/N? whose phone are you using?"

"uh, someone I just met--" you frown as you try to find a way to describe him without something as insulting as a random guy. "anyway, my car broke down so I was wondering if you could pick me up."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, like the movement of sheets and the slightly disappointed groan of another person. she probably has her boyfriend over again. "sure, of course. where are you?"

you give her the address and hang up before dialing the car repair company. Matthew gestures to a table off to the side so that you two don't need to stand, and then you sit down across from him. you're so distracted by the person on the other end of the line that you don't even think about it.

Matthew twists his rings on his fingers. he's fidgety and it's sort of cute. you try not to stare at his hands, at the black spot of ink on the outside of his pinky. either he writes a lot or he's an artist. you have to focus on the table in order to keep from blushing.

finally, you finish up with the phone and hand it back to him. "you're a life saver."

"do you want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?" he gestures out the window. your immediate reaction is to say yes. it'll be awkward to sit here alone without your phone, without coffee. but you don't want to keep him any longer than you already have.

"it's okay, I'm sure you have places to be." you smile accommodatingly. he chooses his next words carefully, it seems.

"I don't, really. but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, too." the way he speaks, offering his company without trying to impose... something about it makes your heart melt a bit. you appreciate his thoughtfulness. it makes you want to know more.

"okay," you nod as you make your decision. "if you wanna stay. it shouldn't be too long."

"great," he settles back into his chair, the light from the café lights above you reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "why does your car keep breaking down?"

you exhale sharply at the thought. "that's a really good question, because I don't know the answer. it's super old and I'm too broke to afford a new one."

he nods.

Matthew's mind turns to different avenues at this knowledge. he knows you're young and that usually means that there isn't a lot of spare income. and he doesn't know if you have a job. but what he does know is that you've got an energy about you-- a sweet, well-intentioned manner that draws him in. every once in a while throughout the conversation, you throw out certain phrases that hint at a quick-witted intelligence.

you're funny, but not boldly so. and when you two get on the topic of how you ended up rain-soaked, shoving your way into a Los Angeles café, you tell him about your day.

"--and I have this shitty job right now working for one of my old professor's friends, so it's not like I can afford to constantly repair the damages. all my money is going towards my savings so I can pay for grad school, anyway." you sigh. he listens intently to your words, and he never shies away from eye contact. every time he nods along, you practically feel your heart leap.

"what do you do?" he asks.

"I write for a wellness magazine, but I'm sort of a fraud." you joke.

he laughs. "why's that?"

"I don't know, a lot of it is about different yoga methods and meditation, stuff like that-- but I don't do any of that in my daily life." you admit. it should be embarrassing, but you don't feel ashamed of the fact. he seems to find it funny.

"working your way toward a different kind of job, then?"

"I'm hoping for a more editorial role, honestly, but..." you lift your eyes to his. they're bright, he notices; full of a deep-rooted hope. "gotta start somewhere, right?"

"very true." Matthew wants to tell you just how much he understands, about the roles as an actor he's taken and the hours he spent making films in college, just hoping that one day he'd be able to make things on his own, but he doesn't want to scare you away or sound like he's bragging. it's not your fault you don't know who he is.

"sorry," you speak through a silence he doesn't realize he's left between you two. "I've talked your ear off and you don't even really know me. what do you do?"

"oh--" Matthew actually blushes this time. you see the pink creeping up his neck. "I'm an actor."

in the same way they did when you ran into him, your eyes widen. "an actor?"

"yeah," he smiles at the expression on your face. "you know that show, Criminal Minds?"

the name is familiar, but you've never seen an episode. "yeah, of course."

"I'm in that."

you don't know a lot about the program, but you've heard it talked about and you know that it's a popular show. so this guy is an actual actor, not just some LA wannabe. that makes him about five times more intimidating. you feel even more idiotic for not seeing it before.

"oh, shit," the words tumble out. Matthew grins at the bluntness of your reaction, and you scramble to recover. "sorry I didn't know who you are."

"no worries!" he laughs it off. "it's not a big deal."

"do you like it?" you ask. "being famous, I mean."

he shifts in his seat for a second as he makes a face like he doesn't know how to answer. you wonder if there's something deeper to him that you just haven't seen, yet. secret feelings about the subject. "I'm really not very famous, but I love the work."

genuinely humble. you can see it in his face, the sparkle in his eyes. and maybe he's just charming and you're just a girl blinded by his attractiveness, but your gut tells you that he's being real.

this time, you're the one who falls silent. admittedly, you get a little in your head sometimes. and it makes sense, now, the smoothness of his behavior and the sheer beauty of his face. this is a show business city-- of course he's famous.

Matthew's phone rings and he jumps, as if jolted from a dream. your attention moves immediately to the screen and you recognize Cecilia's number. he pushes the device over to you.

"hello?" your voice sounds far away.

"hey, I'm here. where are you?" she says.

"I'm just inside the café."

"oh, okay, I'll park and come in--" you hear the click of a seatbelt and start to panic. she can't see you in here with him.

"no!" you say too loudly. Matthew's head jerks up to frown at you.

"why not?" Cecilia asks, confused.

"no reason," god, you're a bad liar. "I'll come out and we can wait for the Triple A person in your car." you and Matthew make eye contact again. he gives you an understanding smile. your stomach flips.

"sounds good." she hangs up and you grab your umbrella. time to go.

"thanks for letting me use your phone." you stand, not really wanting to say goodbye but also lacking a reason to stay. he remains in his spot, seemingly now settled into this little corner of the café. it sort of suits him, this place. all cozy and slightly strange.

“happy to help.” you notice the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as if deliberating whether or not to say anything further. but he doesn’t and you feel awkward just standing there by the table.

“I’ll, uh…” you could ask for his number. but that would be weird, right? he doesn’t really seem to have an interest, anyway. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“yeah. it was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he gives one more of those killer smiles and you turn around, almost bumping into a display of coffee beans before correcting yourself and heading back outside.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @la-vie-en-amour1 @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

[hoe-imaginess]

a helping hand (or two) | dabi

Dabi x fem!Reader

summary: Dabi is suffering from an aphrodisiac quirk. Now he’s got a dick that just won’t quit, and you have to take care of it.

word count: 10.4k

contains: almost dub-con, handies, bjs, dick riding, dirty talk, slight violence, a very stubborn Dabi who has to be restrained 

a/n: self-indulgent & vaguely crack-ish. my idea of an aphrodisiac includes an overload of the five senses bc...idk I wanted to play w/ descriptive prose. my kink is describing Dabi’s horniness in paragraphs ok. meaty intro before the smut, hang in there

⤰⤰⤰

Dabi entertained the alley-dweller’s angry outbursts with sadistic patience. The man yelled at him, threatened him, boasted of all the ways in which he was going to make Dabi suffer for attacking and underestimating him—

Then, finally having decided that the fodder was no longer amusing him, the flame-user extended a glowing palm in preparation to finish the job. 

When you read the intention in Dabi’s movement, you fidgeted where you stood and calculated the risk of opposing him. 

“You can’t just keep burning everyone you don’t like,” you said, calculations made, deciding that you might as well attempt to be a voice of reason while you were paired up with him on this job. 

It was a voice he happily ignored. The white-hot glare of his palm smoldered into the bursting blue of his flames as they lit up his fingers.  

“Says who?” 

Trash was trash. If you couldn’t see that, then oh well. Folly on your part for thinking the tedious task of recruiting didn’t require this sort of disposal; what better to do with underwhelming candidates than permanently remove them from the talent pool? You shouldn’t have tagged along if you weren’t prepared for his methods. 

When the alley-villain realized that Dabi’s patience for his empty, arrogant threats had been spent, his dirt-stained face colored with fear, and his wild eyes darted in every direction of the alley to seek refuge from the imminent flames. He started to plead—which Dabi found grimly amusing given that the man had been spouting insults about his patchwork skin just moments before—then he shrank back against the alley wall, sinking to the ground in fear.

“The more bodies you leave the easier it will be for the police to track us.” You’d taken to your persuasions again, fruitless though you knew it was. 

“And?”

“And you’ll be compromising the entire League.”

“If all you’re gonna do is complain then you don’t have to tag along, ya know.” He spared a glance your way, with that drolly exasperated look on his face he always gave when he felt you were speaking out of turn. 

But his diverted attention proved costly: the alley-dweller suddenly went berserk, and was rushing at him with a final, rogue desperation to escape. 

The charge, surprisingly swift as it was, was also uncalculated, and Dabi narrowly side-stepped to avoid a blow. With an indignant sneer, he rounded his hand and kindled his flames anew: no more games, it was time to kill. But before he could retaliate, the lunatic was on him again, barreling toward him. 

Though fatally seared by the sudden discharge of flame that Dabi released, the derelict’s bulk was still sufficient to topple into Dabi and throw him off balance. He might have fallen from the impact if not for the way the man gave a wailing, pained shriek and threw himself away from the flames. 

Torched and agonized as the man was, his mounted attack hadn’t been a complete failure: though Dabi’s flames had mostly protected him, there was an unmistakable sensation of damage in him which left him suddenly rigid with alarm. 

Had he been wounded?

He looked down at himself, saw no injuries from which the bodily distress might have been roused. After a few moments the distress was gone, and he decided it was just adrenaline. Then, there returned the enervated frustration. 

“Trash,” he muttered indignantly, glaring at the steaming heap of the man, who’d stumbled over a litter of aluminum trash bins and capsized with them onto the ground. He wasn’t moving. But he was still whole, and not the pile of burning ash he could have been, should have been, now, after that little effrontery—

Your arm was on him before he could pursue the murderous thoughts. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, inspecting him carefully. 

Instantly and fiercely, he shrugged away from your touch. 

“Fine,” he grunted out, straightening and stiffening his limbs to convince himself of it. But that odd feeling was still there, burgeoning slowly at the sight of the man’s body fuming on the ground, at your own body standing so close to him. “If you hadn’t been running your damn mouth—”

“Sorry,” you conceded, more concerned with his demeanor than with defending yourself. In all likelihood he didn’t even realize how ruffled he looked. “Did he… are you hurt?”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted firmly. 

While you stared at him in doubtful concern, an energetic heat crept up his spine. Slow, like an insect bite bringing its stinging warmth to a crawl over his skin, skin both scarred and unscarred alike. 

There was a smell, then, when he took his shallow breaths: something sweet, like lingering perfume, or fragrant incense—

Fairly quickly he realized the smell was coming from you, and glared at you in puzzled indignation, like the fact that this scent was yours and that he could smell it now—why could he smell it so profusely now, when he hadn’t before? What the hell?—was somehow offensive. Worst of all it smelled damn good. Had you always smelled that good?

“...What is it?” you asked carefully, not quite able to place the look on his face, but considerably unnerved by it, nonetheless. “Dabi…?”

Your voice—it held such particular tones that he hadn’t before noticed until now, as though he’d been deaf to what you really sounded like; how sleek and enticing your words were when they came out of your pretty mouth. 

Oh, and your mouth: lips parted fretfully in preparation for another concerned inquiry on his well-being, objectively innocent but suddenly, and infuriatingly, looking very much like they were tempting him for a kiss. 

Then when your pink tongue came to wet your lips in anxious trepidation, that too he saw as a maddeningly teasing gesture that made his hands feel hot. Then it was his feet; then his whole body. 

He began to fidget where he stood. 

Then, at the sudden onset of warmth in his head, he slid over to the alley wall, a splayed hand against the brick keeping his balance while he hung his dizzy head low. 

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself woozily. 

“Dabi?” You went to inspect him cautiously. You couldn’t see his expression through the curtain of black that had fallen over his face, but you knew something was amiss. “Are you okay?” you asked again. 

“I’m fine,” he huffed out, and you’d been oblivious to his hoarse breathing up until the moment you stopped in front of him. 

“Dabi,” you begged his attention now that his eyes had closed shut, his features pinched. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes, dizzied by the heat, began to play tricks on him. Even behind the closed lids he saw sparks flying, and swirls of white-hot passion dancing.

When the heat in him turned to a near-burning sensation, he opened his eyes and stared down at his body. Was his quirk activated? he thought confusedly. Or was the heat that licked his skin just a hallucination: flames that failed to consume him wholly? What the hell was happening? What was this—

The heat finally centered—mortifyingly—between his legs, and what had been confusion before was now full-blown bafflement. 

“Dabi,” you were saying again. 

The sound of your voice inflamed him not in aggravation, but something else. 

“You don’t look good,” you said. The way his breath had thinned to long, rough pants put anxiety in you. “...I’ll call Kurogiri.” You fished your phone from your pocket with the intention of doing so. 

A grunt was his response; he couldn’t coherently pick his words. Then, the anticipation of your voice again, on the phone, speaking in those tones and that sweet melody, made him shudder.

“No,” he muttered. 

You looked at him, the phone to your ear, the line ringing. “What?” 

“Don’t,” was all he could say, lower this time, almost in a growl. 

“But Dabi, you—”

Suddenly, at the thought of hearing your voice for even another second, the fire overtook him. 

First he slapped the phone from your grip. Its screen broke against the pavement and the voice that answered the call—too late, you thought fleetingly—stuttered on the line. Then he slammed you against the wall. 

Winded and bewildered, it took you several seconds to find your bearings. In that time he’d pressed against you, his breath so hot and so angry that it flushed perspiration over your skin. 

Gaping, your lips trembled. “Dabi, what—” 

“Shut up,” he seethed quietly, teeth baring. 

You recognized the wild look of violence on his face, but the lust in his hazy eyes wasn’t anticipated. Nor was the erection you felt pressing against your leg. You stared wide-eyed as the sinking realization came over you.

In desperation you pushed at him; he pushed back, corralling you against the wall even harder. 

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and with it, a dying protest, “Wait—”

He clamped a too-warm hand over your mouth, and pressed his face against yours. His forehead on your own felt feverish and sweaty; his eyes, like blue-burned coals, pierced into yours. You could smell the heat smoldering off of him. 

He loosed a shaky, unhinged breath. “Shut. Up.” 

Unthinking, your hand tugged at the one on your mouth, inadvertently digging into his staples. But his wild passion lent him a worrisome insensitivity to the hurt, and his other hand was going for your waist, squeezing into your shirt and wrenching you impossibly closer against him. 

The pain which erupted from his compromised staples only fanned the flames of his arousal. He didn’t know why. Of course he fucking didn’t. He didn’t even know why his body was moving the way it was: rutting against you, seeking friction for his aching dick. 

His mouth went to your neck but applied no kisses or intimate caresses; he just pressed against the skin and breathed in pants. He put his free hand to your breast, the movement not a calculated one, more like he was seeking leverage to his imbalance. The stuttering beat of your heart was palpable under his palm. 

"Fuck,” he sputtered out angrily, disoriented, and dug his fingers into your chest. You moaned behind his palm, both in shock and pleasure. 

All he needed to hear was the latter. 

The sound made him hiss a low and dangerous curse, and when he peeked his head back up, his pulsing eyes shone with something beyond just lust now: pure hunger. 

Just as he moved his hand away from your mouth with the intent of crashing his own against you in a bruising kiss, there was a sound behind him. 

In the back of his mind he recognized it: Warp Gate. 

Kurogiri, and possibly someone else, had answered your call for aid. 

Dabi utterly ignored it. 

It had nothing to do with him. 

He was only concerned with the heat. All he felt was the heat; all he saw was your lips: parted in dumbfoundment, dry, and begging to be wetted by his tongue–

There was a commotion, and then an angry voice that Dabi distantly recognized as Shigaraki’s. 

Then a blow to the back of his head took everything away.

⤰

A subtle transformation had overtaken his body by the time he woke. 

No longer was the heat excruciating, but it was still there, nevertheless: a curling medium beneath his skin which he felt the instant consciousness came back to him. With it, the dizzy ache in his head and the haze in his eyes. Then, finally: his limbs refusing to move when he tried to stretch them. 

At once he realized he was back in the bar, confined in a chair, with people gawking at him from all sides. 

He blinked his vision back to clarity, then scowled. “The hell?”

“Do you remember anything, Dabi?” That was Kurogiri somewhere to his left. Looking, Dabi confirmed his usual station behind the bar. 

Delaying an answer, the flame-user glanced around. Not all of the League was there, he saw. Besides Kurogiri, only Shigaraki and you were audience to the spectacle. 

You tried to avoid his harsh eyes when they landed on you, when they flitted across your features as if in an elaborate struggle to put pieces of a disoriented puzzle together. Solved, apparently, as his memory came back, his confused scowl worked into a realizing frown. 

“Shit,” he muttered in annoyance. 

Shuffling uncomfortably in the chair, he surmised it was rope binding his wrists behind his back, and his ankles to the chair legs. But the movement also brought attention to the hot pressure in his gut. 

Or at the least, he thought that’s where it was—until he glanced down and realized that despite the abatement of the wild heat, his erection still peeked proudly underneath his jeans.

Now he was scowling again. 

“What the hell,” he spat out, and suddenly, with his frustration flourishing, the heat was returning in slow order. 

He cursed under his breath. He looked up and glared at the first onlooker he set his eyes upon: Kurogiri. 

“Get me out of this shit.”

“I can’t do that,” the man replied regrettably. “When I came to retrieve you from the scene we had no choice except to put you down when you refused to listen. Given the nature of the quirk that you’ve been struck with, we have to take precautions until we know it’s out of your system.”

Dabi listened with steely suspicion. “What quirk?”

“An aphrodisiac—” You almost bit your tongue once you’d started, because the quick and fierce glance he gave you suggested he wasn’t entirely happy with you, and even less happy to hear your voice. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac quirk,” you stated, more calmly now. 

Dabi blinked, brows knotting in concentration. Spoken plainly that way, it seemed absurd, stupid. 

He scoffed dryly. “You’re joking.” 

“Really fucked up this time, didn’t you?” came Shigaraki from a spot at the bar, his arms crossed. “Serves you right, searching the alleys for trash. I told you to stop doing that shit.”

“Fuck off,” Dabi spat. “How was I supposed to know the guy’d have such a stupid fuckin’…” 

Dabi tsked and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair again. The bitterness he felt for his confinement was quickly gaining, and so was the returning arousal. A sweltering, uncomfortable warmth on his skin made him hyperaware of his flushed face, and he could practically feel the sweat teeming on his unscarred flesh. 

“I’m serious,” he muttered, glaring at Shigaraki. “Get me out of this.”

“So you can go ape shit again? No. It’s disgusting.” 

“I’m not gonna do shit, relax.”

Dabi was aware then that focus was being pulled in the room, pulled directly to you: the victim of his unbidden arousal.

With a roll of his eyes, he huffed a frustrated breath and gave you what might have passed for an apology, if he’d even bothered looking at you. “My bad, and all that.”

Shigaraki’s arrogant snort derailed whatever amendment you might have transpired to make. 

“You’re lucky the guy was still alive when we got there—barely,” your leader went on. “Told us a bit about what to expect from you in the next few hours though, once we promised we’d let him go.”

Dabi gave him a flat look of doubt. 

Shigaraki scoffed. “Didn’t keep that promise, obviously.” Then he was scowling behind Father. “I don’t like having to clean up your messes. Shouldn’t have to finish off your fodder for you. You can’t even do that right, can you?”

Dabi’s frustration was in full bloom now, despite reason persuading him against it; he’d gathered enough at this point—at the expense of his own body—to know that agitation of any kind would feed the quirk’s effects. 

Heat pooled low in his stomach when he demanded again, “Let me out of this shit right now or I’m gonna get mad.”

“Supposed to be a 24-hour thing unless you take care of it, to put it plainly,” Shigaraki responded.

“I assumed as much. So get me outta this shit and I’ll fuck off for a while.”

“Nah. Don’t need you going and causing a scene somewhere because you don’t know how to keep your pants on.”

You could feel the conflagration of tension in the room. Maybe it was Dabi’s quirk, maybe it was the alley-dweller’s mixing with it, making it dangerously palpable. Regardless, Shigaraki’s snark seemed to bring Dabi’s attention back to his body, to the insufferable bulge between his legs that demanded relief.

“This is stupid,” he declared bitterly, and tugged on the knots tied at his wrists, the throbbing heat in his lower-half lending itself to his quirk as it activated in licking flames along his arms. He was tired of this shit. He lost his temper all at once. “You’re damn crazy if you think I’m just gonna sit here—”

Then there was blue flame torching the back of the chair, blackening the rope which bound him and making the tethers frail enough to tear apart under a strong tug. He was freeing himself. 

From there, it all happened relatively swiftly. 

As he went to work on the binds at his feet with newly liberated arms, Shigaraki was in a conniption of angry protests, and Kurogiri fluttered nervously between taking action or remaining an onlooker. 

Then there was you, probably the least equipped to do much of anything to alleviate the situation, but nevertheless skipping to your feet the moment the chaos ensued. There was arguing, cursing, insults—then your voice, attempting to wedge some conciliatory reason into the room.

It did the exact opposite. 

Dabi had apparently forgotten of the trigger in your voice that sent his body into a frenzy. When you spoke up, your voice just loud enough to cut above the rest of the uproar, his aspiration to free himself tapered off as his sharp eyes honed in on you. 

His arousal came back with a vengeance; in his pants, his dick twitched angrily for relief, and that frenzy took over his thought process again. 

His flames burned the rope at his feet and he came at you, so close, so very close, not knowing why he was doing it but only that he needed to touch you—

You were frozen on the spot. But Shigaraki was reaching for something along the bar, and Dabi’s world went black again soon after. 

⤰

When he woke this time, his rope bonds had been replaced for something cold and metallic, something stronger to withstand the vehemence of his flames. Even the chair to which he was bound had been swapped for something sturdier than wood.

“You fuckin’ serious?” he spat out, even before his vision had centered. He knew where he was, and why he was there. No need for context clues. 

“You gave us no other choice,” Kurogiri amended carefully, the black vapors that composed him flitting about anxiously. 

“Told you that you’d lose it,” Shigaraki said, anger having replaced all his snarky tones of condescension from before. “You’re like a damn animal.”

Dabi hissed and put his head back, feeling the soreness at his nape from consecutive blows. If he weren’t so presently occupied with the curl of heat welcoming him afresh, he might have simmered on the idea of burning his relatively recent—but entirely disagreeable—boss to a crisp when this was over. 

Then for the first time Dabi realized you were absent, and glanced around as if in search of you. Good, he thought, when he confirmed that you were missing. You just... complicated things. 

“I’m fine now,” he insisted, as placidly as possible as if to give stock to his lie. The respite had done nothing for the arousal harassing him; the longer it having gone unsatiated, even in unconsciousness, making it all the more demanding. 

Mellowing his urgency to a non-existent degree was almost impossible, however. Dabi knew the way the soles of his shoes twisted and flattened restlessly into the ground below was anything but inconspicuous. 

“Just warp me outta here, Kurogiri,” he implored. 

“No,” Shigaraki answered. “Shut up. Consider this a lesson. No more rummaging for allies in shithole parts of town. This is what happens when you go dumpster-diving for recruits.”

“You want me to burn this place down?” Dabi threatened, testing the strength of his bonds. A flicker of blue teased along his jawline. “‘Cause I got no problem doing that.”

Shigaraki shrugged. “Sure. You’ll just burn up with it, since you’ve got no way out of that chair.”

He knew it was true, and worked his jaw. “For all you know the damn guy was lyin’,” he said as a final act of contempt, and gave his leader a leery, side-long glare. “And this shit might not go away on its own.”

“Guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” 

Dabi sneered. Foiled, but regardlessly frustrated by the truth of it, he put his head back with an angry sigh and resigned himself to an attempted calm. 

⤰

You’d lingered in the bar’s back rooms for the better part of an hour before emerging. 

Shigaraki had instructed you to make yourself scarce, but you were drafted to stay by some guilty—and admittedly curious—sentiment. 

It was awfully unfair, you agreed, to keep Dabi chained up like he was—even in spite of the danger he posed under the quirk’s influence. But you must have overlooked that danger when you decided to slip into the main room where he was being held, long after you had been assured that Kurogiri and Shigaraki were gone. 

His back to the door, Dabi didn’t glance over his shoulder at the sound of your footsteps. It seemed he was sour enough not to offer greeting, and preferred to be left alone in his turmoil. 

He especially didn’t want your company, which he made clear by way of a harsh frown when you came into his peripheral. 

He tsked and readjusted uncomfortably in his seat at your arrival. “The hell do you want?”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Never been better,” he muttered. 

You were aware of how he avoided your gaze, and couldn’t know whether it was in an effort to stave off the arousal your presence had so viciously wrought before, or because he simply didn’t appreciate your company. The latter seemed just as likely as the first, though neither stopped you from taking a seat in one of the room’s couches so you could sit across at him. 

Your eyes were trained on his face, on the agitation creased into his expression. It was almost indecipherable under his otherwise cold demeanor. Clearly, the quirk was still in effect. If his tried composure wasn’t enough, there was a subtle tent in his pants that hadn’t gone away, not since its first appearance hours ago, you imagined. 

You didn’t realize you were ogling until he noticed. He tsked. 

“Take a picture,” he offered spitefully, immediately dissuading your eyes away from him. 

“Sorry,” you let slip, embarrassment flushing your cheeks, and in response he only lulled his head back again and shut his eyes. 

All was silent for a while, and might have remained thereby, if not for the way that the curt apology brought back the weight of guilt you’d felt to see his sorry state. 

“And I’m sorry for bringing you back here,” you spoke up. “Or at least, sorry that I called the others. I didn’t realize you’d be held up like this–”

“Stop talking,” he muttered. 

Mouth opening, then closing again, you almost swallowed down your next words. But again, they refused to stay unspoken. 

“I wouldn’t have called them,” you insisted, “if you didn’t—if you didn’t come after me like that. I was confused.”

No response. Only another uncomfortable shuffle in the chair while his eyes remained shut and his mouth a thin line. 

They’d put his hands in a sort of metallic sleeve since you last saw him, to discourage any more pyromania, you guessed. Though they weren’t visible, you could see how his arms shifted, how his tendons worked, and could imagine his fingers flitting anxiously inside the restraints. 

“Is… me being here making it worse?” you chanced to ask. 

He scoffed, and finally gave you his attention. “What?” Then, fully understanding your train of thought, rolled his eyes, and resigned them shut again while he relaxed into the chair. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but that dumb look you got on your face all the time isn’t exactly alluring.”

You frowned, and it was almost with cross touchiness that you argued, “But you came after me—”

“I’m guessin’ the point of the quirk is to make anything look fuckable.  So don’t flatter yourself.”

Despite all your caution, you couldn’t help but give the man a sour look. “You’re rude.”

He shrugged, the movement impeded considerably by his restraints. “Whatever. Anyways, you just gonna sit there and watch me? I’m not exactly in the mood for company.” He moved in his seat again, fighting the heat between his legs the best he could. “Unless you’re gettin’ off on my suffering and what not. Kinda twisted of you, if you ask me. Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“That’s not it,” you insisted quickly. “I just wanted to…well—”

“To what? Check in on me? Nice of you. But you can fuck off now.” 

A sudden twitch in his legs took the tension from the repartee. You looked down at the limb as he did. 

The burning heat in his veins took away practically all control he had of his extremities, rallied them into unconscious servants of the damn quirk until they were twitching, then relaxing, then twitching again.

You noticed this, too, and though his efforts to conceal the struggle were commendable, they left you in a state of shame, as if it were you bound in the chair with your arousal on display. Seeing someone so normally composed as he was in such a state was distressing, and admittedly, absorbing.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and let your rampant thoughts form to words. “Will it go away if you…”

“If I what?” Then once understanding, the smallest of smirks twisted his scarred lips. “Rub one out? How the hell am I supposed to know?”

You ignored the heat that dropped down your spine to hear him say it so unabashedly. “I don’t have the key to your locks,” you explained. “So I couldn’t let you out even if I wanted to.”

He gave no response, just looked away from you again. 

And here now was the adrenaline pulsing nonsense out of you, making you think crazy and debauched thoughts that would in any other situation be put down immediately by rationale. 

“But…”

He glanced at you when you tapered off. “But?”

Your silence annoyed him, now that he was interested. Before he could hound you to continue, you sputtered out your proposal:

“Do you want me to do something about it?”

He looked at you, an eyebrow raised, as if demanding clarification. But you had a resolute feeling that he was toying with you by choosing silence. 

“You know what I mean,” you asserted. 

The blank, cold stare you received in kind made you wonder if he actually did know what you meant. Maybe he didn’t understand—

“No,” he then said. 

The defeat you felt was utterly uncalled for, you knew. But you felt it anyways: a wash of humiliation plummeting down your body and swelling up again in frustration. 

But you let it be, knowing anything more you had to say would probably earn you tenfold embarrassment. 

Twenty minutes must have passed—though he wasn’t counting, and he wasn’t so sure that the affliction in his body wasn’t twisting his sense of time—each entailing another dredge of painful heat in his groin that worsened the longer his arousal went unattended to.

All the fail safes he’d practiced in his adolescence to ward off unwanted arousals were utterly useless now. He might as well have been on cloud nine when he filled his head with repulsive concepts: the smell of antiseptic, the smell of fish—fucking disgusting fish—even images of roadkill and dead bodies, putrefying and blackened. 

The thoughts themselves were off-putting, as promised, but it wasn’t thoughts at all that fueled his libido: it was a completely physical and natural arousal. 

Even shuffling his legs around, as meager of friction as it gave, made his hips inch forward in search of more when the fabric of his jeans teased his hard cock. It was fucking humiliating. 

He looked at you. You were too occupied searching the floor for an answer to your anxieties to notice the way he studied you.

You weren’t bad looking, he decided. Not that he’d ever really thought of you that way before. Not thoroughly, anyways. In this little group of delinquents he’d surrounded himself with—a grand mistake on his part, he thought, especially during times like these—you were the only fuel he had for his imagination on nights he needed to let off some steam. 

There was no intimacy behind it, no real passion for you that extended beyond the time from when he shoved a hand into his jeans, to when he was cleaning thick ropes of cum from his knuckles afterwards. 

You were only ever given credence in his brain then, when he was giving his cock hard and angry tugs to the thought of you on your knees for him, or against a wall with his hand curled around your throat, and sometimes bent over his knee while he spanked your ass raw (a more recent daydream now, ever since that time a few weeks ago when you’d bent down in front of him to pick something up off the floor).

Suddenly aware of an alarming change in his body, he paused his thoughts to immerse himself back into his too-hot skin again. 

He felt a wetness against his swollen cock, and after squirming covertly, frowned, realizing with loathing that the stickiness chafing his briefs was pre-cum. 

He stubbornly decided that it was just an inevitable response to his body’s raging war with arousal, and not—not at all—because he’d been thinking of you. 

Letting his body endure until his pants were dampened with pre-cum was an unwanted solution. Or even worse, until the sensitivity in his cock went haywire and even the tiniest of movements might make him cream his pants. 

A frustrated breath whistled out from his nose and he grit his teeth. Goddamnit. This was fucking stupid. 

“Fuck,” he said aloud, shaking his head as if to condemn the words he was about to say, knowing how they would haunt his ego later, “Fine. Come here.”

You glanced up, and, unable to fulfill the request with your mind suddenly racing, simply stared. 

That insipid look of failed registry on your face irritated him, and he scowled. “Are you deaf?”

“You want me to—” A sweep of your eyes down to his crotch elucidated what you were too hesitant to say. 

“You offered,” he reminded you, and decided that in order to make this even a fraction less humiliating, he’d need to emphasize your culpability. “Kinda been thinking it’s your fault, anyways. If you hadn’t been such a dumbass back there I would’ve finished the guy off like I wanted to. But you were too busy spouting your nitpicky bullshit.”

There was a guilty look on your face now, like you’d been considering the accusation in your own time. Now having it confirmed, you were more susceptible to the reasoning, and even more willing to rectify yourself. 

Still, you struggled to swallow down hesitation. “You’re sure that you want me to—”

“You’re gonna start pissin’ me off if you get all shy,” he said, trying as hard as his dancing nerves would allow to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

Since yielding to the ludicrous idea, his body had apparently taken up a premature celebration at the thought of your hands on him. His balls were tight and his dick was throbbing hard enough to make his legs tense with each pulse. 

“I just want to make sure,” you insisted. “I mean, if you really–”

“I’ll make it easy for you then. Either get over here, or piss off.”

He was relieved, pleased, and somewhat amused when the hesitation left you and you obeyed. When you came to stand idly in front of him, he glanced up, watching your confusion. 

Your eyes flicked from his face to his crotch, where the dim light of the room caught the curve of his hard dick pressing against his jeans. 

“You gonna stare at it all day?” he asked. 

You looked at him. “What do you want me to do?”

“When you offered to do something about it I assumed you already had some ideas. You need me to give you an instruction manual?” 

Your silence frustrated him again, and he tsked, glancing away from you as the reality of what you two were doing finally set in. 

“Take it out,” he muttered. 

So you did, reaching numbly down and carefully undoing his pants. The bulge that awaited underneath his jeans gave you pause. You stared at it, and a shot of adrenaline pumped through you when it twitched in his briefs, as if feeling your eyes ogling it and begging you to give it attention.

You tried to clear your conscience. This was Dabi, Dabi who treated you with such disregard that you sometimes wondered if he even knew your name; Dabi, who was letting you even breathe next to him without trying to scorch you.

A trickling, somewhat fatally comedic thought entered your mind: was he going to light you ablaze the second you touched him? Or maybe after, once you’d relieved him, as a way to permanently silence you against ever speaking a word of this to anyone?

Shivering at the morbidity of your own creation, you reached for his briefs and pulled them down carefully until his cockhead showed itself, pink-hued and shiny with an excess amount of pre-cum. 

You worked a hand underneath the briefs instead of exposing him completely, thinking he might want some semblance of modesty during this. Your convictions were rattled from their mounts when your fingers wrapped gently around the tip of his cock and gave a firm squeeze. 

In response: silence. 

You’d thought with how viciously his arousal had seemed to harangue him that he might give a stronger reaction: a moan, a sigh, a grunt, maybe even an audible breath. 

He just stared at you, looking as utterly bored as he usually did.

Then your fingers decided to retreat, and the sound you’d been displeased to be robbed of came finally as a frustrated grunt when your grip left him. 

“Seriously?” he huffed, staring at you. The irritation left its first but considerable split in his composure. The rest was quickly chipping away. He couldn’t pretend to be aloof about this for much longer. “You got cold feet now?”

“That’s not it.”

“What then? Never seen one before?”

“I don't know… how you want it,” you explained. 

“The hell does that mean?”

“Do you want me to use my hands?” you clarified hesitantly. “Or…” 

The little huff of derisive laughter that fell from his open lips made an eerie picture of his otherwise blank face. 

“Or what?” he taunted. “You got something else in mind? You been dyin’ for a taste of it or something–”

“No,” you finished, and that flustered look of anger on your face was pissing him off again, instead of amusing him like it might have under another context.

“So then cut the shit and do whatever.”

With a frown you went to your knees, unwilling to get further embroiled. 

When you started to stroke him, more pre-cum squeezed from the tip in generous pumps. You didn’t bother asking him how hard or fast he wanted it—you started hastily, hand gliding quickly over his cock, urgently enough that pre-cum eased the motion and made wet, sharp sounds with every stroke. 

His knee twitched like he’d been checked for reflex, which you took as encouragement to keep going despite his loyalty to silence. 

The veins along his dick pulsed needily and you swore you could feel the throb under your palm. The throb became more palpable as time went on. You thought you were doing well. But apparently not. 

“Harder,” he muttered, not a minute after you’d started. 

You glanced up at him. He wasn’t looking at you, but instead had shut his eyes in concentration. It looked to you as though he was trying to find the pleasure in your pace—which was apparently too soft for his likings. 

You did as instructed, nevertheless: you tightened your grip a fraction, fingers curling and making your strokes face slightly more resistance as they worked more pre-cum from the red tip. 

Another twitch in his leg, then a deep exhale that ended in a shiver; you saw his toned stomach shudder with the motion beneath his clothes, and fleetingly considered inching his shirt up a bit more out curiosity: how far did the burnt skin go down his body?

But then he was grunting, and breathing more stiffly than before. You thought that was another sign of a job well done, when his eyes peeled open and looked down upon you with such emphasized frustration that you realized you were not, in fact, meeting his standards. 

“Harder,” he demanded again, more rigidly this time. Despite the command, your hand slowed. For that, he frowned at you. “Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that. I like it rough.”

A flush of humiliation put purpose back into your rigid fingers, and you were moving your hand again, albeit slowly as you tested the new grip, this time with such purposeful pressure that you were tugging his dick now more than stroking it. 

“I thought it might hurt,” you started meekly.

“It doesn’t. Keep going.” 

You did, picking up speed again. The adrenaline put some more initiative into you, and you made a purposeful attempt to drag your thumb down hard on his swollen cock with every jerk of your hand. 

A croaky hum from his throat brought your attention to his face; his eyes watched your hand stroking him with fuzzy scrutiny. 

“Yeah,” he breathed thinly, his eyes fluttering closed again, finally satisfied. “Just like that.” 

That made your chest tight with excitement and your legs fidget beneath you. Your own arousal was wetting the inside of your thighs by now, but you were able to ignore it momentarily in favor of serving his.

At some point his hips stuttered up to start meeting your hand, but in a much slower rhythm than you were stroking; lazy pumps up into your grip. Every synchronic motion when you jerked up and his hips rolled down, there was an amazing tightness on the head of his cock that made his breath catch every time. 

You decided on using both hands (he was big, unexpectedly big, so much so that it was staggering and you decided you would think about that later when he wasn’t filling your palms so generously) and started twisting your grip in time with your strokes. It was then he finally loosed a low and breathy groan. 

Then his hips were pumping into your hands roughly, fucking himself in slow but hard thrusts—so hard that you had to steel yourself and tighten your grip to keep from getting bucked off. 

Another low moan from his throat. “Shit…” Then, when a surge of confidence urged you to quickly run your tongue along the head of his dick, his breath caught in a hard grunt.

“Shit,” he hissed out, and spread his thighs wider, pushing them up eagerly in demand that you give him more. 

To the best of your ability you tried, spreading your tongue underneath the head and rapidly swiping it back and forth. That got his hips stuttering, and his body jolting in its confines. 

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck.... Just like that.”

Without prompting your lips came into the fold, closing tightly around the tip and sucking in time with the hands that fisted his cock until you were lavishing every inch of him in some way. 

The feeling alone was ridiculously good, but watching you made his jaw go slack and mouth open as he panted. Maybe it was just the stupid quirk making him delirious, but you looked a hell of a lot hotter doing this than what his fantasies had led him to believe. Fuck. You weren’t half bad. 

A particularly hard thrust into your mouth had one of your hands slipping loose, and his next thrust, unimpeded by the length of one your fists around him, shoved his dick to the tight heat at the back of your throat.

He grunted hard, “Fucking shit—” Then arched up quickly, jumping at the opportunity to sink his cock deeper. 

Without a pause to steady yourself you had little choice but to oblige, and his cockhead shoved in, cramming itself against your hot tongue, pumping farther back inch by inch. 

The hand still jerking him off covered what your throat was too inexperienced to swallow down, and the rhythm of your tight mouth and vice-like hand made him moan deeply. 

But it might have been too much, and a strength lent to him by the quirk’s desperation made his hips lift off the chair forcibly, driving his cockhead to the very back of your throat until you were sputtering and choking. 

“Fuck.” It made him dizzy with pleasure, and he shut his eyes to keep them from rolling as he frantically pumped his hips upwards to get you gagging on him again. “Yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

But then you were pulling off completely with a gasping breath.

His eyes opened, wild with exasperation. “The hell–”

You coughed wetly and started to plead, “Don’t choke me–” 

“Fine—fine. Hurry the hell up.” His hips jutted up impatiently in search of your mouth again, his swelling cock bouncing and twitching urgently. “Put that fuckin’ mouth back on it right now—” 

You obeyed, and his hips shuddered down into the chair, following the motion of your lips as they tightened over his length—only to start thrusting up into the hot and wet cavern again once his cockhead hit the roof of your mouth. 

It was like a fire had been kindled underneath him and was rapidly boiling all his thoughts to a vapor. It was stupidly good, so damn hot and tight and wet he couldn’t remember a mouth on his cock ever feeling this amazing. He wished his hands were free so he could fist them into your hair, so he could push you down more, get you gagging and sputtering on his cock. 

His eyes squeezed shut, face flexing with occasional twitches. His lips pulled back into a desperate grimace and long, shaky breaths whistled out through his clenched teeth. 

With his vision released of the sight of you on your knees, his mind was free to give the hot wetness on his cock another name, and he instead imagined that it was your pussy he was shoving into, gripping him nice and tight. 

He felt his quirk stirring underneath the pleasure; every vein in his body warmed at the mere thought of shoving into you raw, and until that very moment he hadn’t itched to break through his constraints like he did now, hadn’t wanted to be free of them so he could wrestle you to the floor and fuck you like he needed to. 

You were doing something particularly creative with your tongue on the underside of his cock, and a full body shudder brought him back to present. He watched you in your task: your eyes were shut tight in concentration, your brows furrowed as you struggled to accept his dick while it rammed against the back of your throat. Even your hand’s grip on his cock was a little tighter, he noticed appreciatively. 

It would have been fucking fantastic: a real goddamn sight to see that he might have honestly applauded you for later—if he wasn’t suddenly so absurdly enraptured with his fantasies. 

Dabi wanted more. Something deeper and hotter, something to bury his cock into and relish the velvety grip, something he could ravage and fuck away the ache in his body—

The thought of pounding his dick inside of you suddenly encompassed all other thought; it wasn’t a notion his frenzied mind would let remain as a fantasy. He wanted nothing else. Your mouth on his cock, your throat curdling around him, choking on him in a way that made his legs shake...

It was all insufficient now. He needed to be inside of you. As soon as fucking possible. 

“Shit,” he spat out. It was a curse different from the others, not breathed on arousal, but frustration. 

You looked up at him, and read him to be just as disgruntled as he sounded. 

“This ain’t doin’ it,” he said, and slowed his thrusting hips, which was a more hard-fought task to complete than he imagined; he may have been getting greedy with his fantasies, but his cock was still more than happy to use your mouth as a warm sleeve.

When you slipped off, you must have been giving him one of those dumb looks he hated, because he frowned. 

“You hear me?”

You nodded, licking the wetness from your lips as you caught your breath. You were lightheaded. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, and you swore you would smell the smoky salt of his skin on you for days. But now there was more? 

The heat pooling in your thighs demanded your attention again, and you fidgeted on your sore knees. “Well... what do you want me to do–”

“Sit on it.”

You gawked at him. “Sit on it?” 

That got him smirking just a little, his tongue peeking out to wet dried lips as he slowly panted. He cocked his head. 

“Worried it won’t fit?”

Your body surged with wild ambition. “That’s not it, but—”

“Bet you’re nice and tight, but you can work it in. I’d offer to stretch you open a little, but my hands are tied.” He flexed his fingers and arms in his binds for show, then grinned to see how flustered his words made you. “Besides, looked like you were enjoyin’ yourself. I’m sure you’re wet enough.”

God why couldn’t he shut up and let you think for a second? The teasing was horribly nauseating; his voice even worse, spoken with his smirk seeped into it. You realized the very sound of it would probably make you shiver now in all the wrong ways after this, even in casual conversation. 

“I… don’t have condoms,” you said by way of reply. 

He shrugged, the gesture lacking his usual languor now that he’d been worked up without release. “Me neither. They’re annoying.” 

He noticed you were frowning at him, and scoffed. “What, not on the pill?” He didn’t wait for a response; maybe that was the heat making him forgo on better judgment. “Well, guess it’s a good thing they got me pinned down, then. You’re free to pull off when I’m about to bust.”

The way in which he spoke it made your stomach queasy, and the first true lick of doubt ruined your mood as you stood up. “Fine. Just… tell me before you’re about to.”

He grunted in response, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

You took off your bottoms and pushed your panties—yes, very wet, you confirmed—down, then hiked a leg over and climbed somewhat clumsily onto the chair.  

Only when you’d awkwardly positioned yourself over him did you notice that his eyes were fixated down below, where your hands steadily worked his dick against you. A raspy sigh passed his lips, and it was then you noticed his body teeming with eager spasms. 

Awkwardly, you sank down onto him, staring between you two the whole time and watching his thick length press tightly inside. 

The binds on his feet jabbed sharply against his ankles as they shuffled for leverage, desperate to rut up into the tight heat that welcomed him—but your legs resting on his thighs kept the movement to nothing but shallow thrusts. 

Whatever this fucking quirk was had a ridiculous effect on his sensitivity. You felt good—fucking amazing, even—though he couldn’t decide if that was just the quirk deluding him into thinking your cunt was the best he’d ever had, or if it really was: if you really were just that fucking incredible. 

Normally he would have managed that with stilled hips and practiced control; just sat back and enjoyed the ride. But shit it took a monumental effort not to fuck up into you, especially with how damn... slow you were going. 

Your pussy was gripping him so nicely, and that tight look on your face as you seated yourself onto his lap, accepting him fully and staggering from the size of him, was thrilling. But when you finally started to move your hips, you were going about it so cautiously, so boringly, that his patience all but thinned in a matter of seconds. 

“Could you go any slower?” he muttered. 

The words guilted you. “I thought it might… hurt?” you explained.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not in pain, dumbass. I need to cum. Which ain’t gonna happen if you keep this up.” He shuffled his legs, widening them so he could better press up into you. The pressure made him grunt, and you shiver. “C’mon, you were putting on a real good show before. Ride me like you mean it. I know you can.”

And there it was again, the words and the voice that threw repose out the window and made you all the more eager to see this through. 

With arms linked around his neck you started to roll your hips. He didn’t seem to mind the contact, helpful as it was in balancing yourself on his lap. 

You weren’t entirely surprised when the first sighs and grunts came from your own lips. Every time you thought a new angle of your hips or a quick thrust of his own had finally hit that one pleasurable spot inside, you would sink down harder on his cock and gasp when his thickness dragged over another. 

It made you go faster, turned the fluid rolling of your hips into quick grinding, then finally when you’d adjusted to his size, a steady bouncing on his cock. 

“Fuck yes...” he muttered, then moaned low, licking his lips; that was what he needed, feeling you sink down over and over, lifting yourself a little higher each time then dropping so hastily that his hips started jutting up to meet you. 

“Shit.” Lolling his head back he breathed heavily, deeply. “Ah shit...”

It encouraged you to circle your hips with every motion, which garnered a throaty growl in response. A string of curses under his breath accompanied it, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, keeping careful of his staples, and moaned along with him. 

Only when you started getting noisier did you think of anything except what you two were doing: what if Shigaraki or Kurogiri were to come back now? What if any of the others decided to waltz in? 

You bit your lip to keep your next few moans low, but you swore Dabi must have had a sixth sense for your timidity, and didn’t at all appreciate the way you were holding back. 

He shifted his hips on the chair in a precise motion, and suddenly his cockhead shoved against the right spot over and over again as you bounced on top of him. All your logical thoughts were fucked into the back burner immediately.

All you could hear was your own panting and the slap of your thighs against his. He would give his heedy approval in an occasional growl or moan, rasping it against your ear. It made you shiver uncontrollably. 

You lost rhythm soon enough and took to grinding again, the chair scraping along the floor beneath you. His thick cock drove you crazy, until you were panting and moaning and whining. If that wasn’t enough to signal an orgasm, he could feel it, could feel your pussy gripping him in a desperate flutter. 

“Oi,” he got your attention, turning his head, his breath thin at your cheek, “You serious? Are you actually gonna–”

And you did, legs stretching and contracting, tightening around his thighs as you came hard. He cursed and dipped his head low when you squeezed around him, panting through the ridiculously good pressure on his cock. 

Your body jerked and shivered in any way it could, anything to expel the white-hot pleasure that shot up your spine and then back down again. You couldn’t breathe, shaking on top of him so violently he was sure you were going to keel over at any second and start convulsing on the floor. 

“Hey shithead,” he snapped after he’d let your shivers die down. Using what little leverage his tied legs allowed him, he pushed his shoes off the floor, bouncing you impatiently in his lap and jarring you back to awareness. You gasped in hypersensitivity, his cock digging against you.

“I’m flattered you like my dick that much,” he went on, your body languid and slouched against him. The heat was nearing again; his cock twitched miserably inside of you, desperate for release and so damn close to getting it. “But you’re not the one in need of attention here, in case you forgot. Keep it up. I’m close.” 

With a moan you pushed yourself up, sucking in breaths of renewal through parted lips. Legs tensing and aching, you tried your best to grind on him again, but the task left you oversensitive. 

He needed to finish, you reminded yourself. He needed to cum, like he’d said. You were sure, so blissfully sure you might be rewarded with more of his unhinged reactions that you forced your muscles to be ignorant to their ache, and started to ride him in earnest.

That was when you noticed it: the heat wracking you wasn’t just your own, it was his. His skin too hot, too hot to be normal, furnace-warm to the touch. 

You lifted your head from his shoulder and peered over at him. His eyes were screwed shut, his lips pulled back into a tense snarl. Perspiration dewed on the portions of his untainted skin, dampened his brows and fell in droplets along his temple. 

You felt his body heating rapidly against yours—the clothes keeping your skin apart might as well have been paper-thin. His chest, rising desperately with heavy pants, was concerningly feverish. He felt it too. 

Fuck, he thought. Not fucking now. 

“Damn it—” he sputtered out, body going suddenly rigid, craning his neck away from you. “Move,” he warned you.

“What—”

“Move your damn head—”

Just as you did, your eyes stretched in shock as flames broke out from his jawline. Their angry blue reflected threateningly in your eyes, made you come to a shivering slow on his cock as the dry heat blistered out over your skin. 

The fire was out in a second, forcefully extinguished with his frustrated grunt; smoke puttered out from beneath his staples instead. He breathed out an angry sigh from the effort of combating his own quirk.

You hesitated to put your hand out and touch him, hovering over his face. “Dabi, your skin—”

“Shut up it’s fine,” he breathed raggedly, turning his head away from you. When was the last time that had happened? Fuck. He made himself believe it was just the quirk. Just the quirk. And not you. Not because you felt so fucking good. 

His legs jolted up in desperation to make you move on top of him. “Don’t you fuckin’ stop—shit—I’m almost there—”

You didn’t know whether to be frightened or exhilarated by the display of fire, but you were moving again regardless, bouncing on his lap for all you were worth until your legs were begging for mercy and your lungs ached. 

He sucked in tight breaths through his teeth, then exhaled them as gravelly moans. You pressed against him, arms wrapped about his frame, ignoring his sweltering skin and abandoning any fear that his quirk might disobey his control again. You bit your lip and whined excitedly when you felt him bow his head against your shoulder and pant heavily against the clothed skin there. 

The heat was fucking blinding now. And it was loud: a numbing and seductive beat in his chest that made his heart stutter to keep up. Every slam of your hips down onto him, and every one of his thrusts up into you in turn, made the heat louder, ache more, and burn.

“Now,” he grit out against your ear, body seizing in warning. In his enclosed binds, his fingers clenched into fists, so hard that the joints popped in protest.  

A whine in your throat was the response. You were ignorant to much else except the wetness making a mess of your thighs, of his searing skin against you and his belt buckle digging harshly into your legs. 

“Right now,” he sputtered hurriedly, hips rising from the seat. All he could do was shove up into you once, violent and hard, digging his way as deep as he could as his balls went tight and fiery pleasure raced up his body. “Right fuckin’ now move, I’m gonna—goddamnit… fuck!” 

He wasn’t prepared for the way you slammed your hips down as you came again with a cry. He stiffened hard, body bowing down into yours as much as the restraints allowed, shoving his face into your neck.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped out, “fuck—” You shivered wildly around him and in an instant he was cumming hard, legs jolting in their restraints, shaking under your thighs. 

“Fuck!” he shouted again, the exclamation muffled against your skin. “Motherfucker—fuck—” His voice puttered off into a series of strained, frantic groans. Unthinking and delirious on pleasure, he closed his mouth around the soft flesh of your neck and bit hard. 

You gasped, tried to wriggle free, but his hips were desperately snapping up into you, effectively throwing off your balance. 

Your hips hadn’t stopped their determination either. They had a mind of their own, rutting fast to squeeze him dry. All the while, he growled hotly against your skin, teeth leaving deep marks, sucking blemishes into the flesh despite all restraint that told him otherwise. 

After the last, hard spurts inside of you, he sank back into the chair, utterly wasted. Little spasms harassed his body and made him shiver weakly. Only his mouth persevered, teeth still digging into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

The pleasure ebbed into raw sensation, and you could feel the marks his incisors left in you, the heated metal of his staples singeing you.

“Dabi,” you stuttered out, a shaky hand coming to push at his forehead in protest. 

It shook him back to reality. He brought his dizzy head back to look at you through hooded eyes, then down at the wound he’d left on your neck. 

Shit, he thought fleetingly, but not very regrettably. That was gonna bruise. 

He put his head back against the chair and heaved, shutting his eyes to dispel the lightheadedness. 

“Told you... to get off,” he muttered. 

You knew it was a mistake you would dwell on later, but you could barely move now, let alone think. 

When you shifted your legs, wanting to move and put some blood back into your limbs, it set off a chain reaction of oversensitive-pleasure; dwindling sparks went off inside you and you shuddered, making him jerk and grunt in tandem. 

“Don’t move,” he chided, his head still bent to the ceiling. “Just gimme a minute... Fuck...” he breathed. “You fuckin’...” He shook his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you’d been the one to give it to him.

Then he thought: he wouldn’t need to conjure up fantasies of you anymore when he was getting himself off. He could go by memory now. 

Once he’d regained partial composure, he shifted, glad to find his dick was going limp—fucking finally—inside of you. 

“You got a way to take care of that?” he asked, leaning back and looking down at the wet mess between both your thighs. 

You blinked, hazy. “What?”

“I’m not tryna knock you up just ‘cause you’re too horny to listen,” he said disdainfully. “You on the pill? Gotta get one of those morning-afters otherwise–”

“It’s fine.” You nodded. “Don’t worry.”

It was easier said than done, he thought to himself sourly. But he was having trouble thinking of much else besides how fucking fantastic it was to feel the arousal leaving him in blissful waves.

He took a heavy breath. “Now get off and get me outta this shit.”

“But you might still be…” You wriggled a little on top of him, felt him soft inside of you. It was uncomfortable, but even if you’d wanted to move, your muscles were spent. “What if you’re still… ”

“Still what? Still horny? Bet you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

You wouldn’t let the comment fluster you, and obeyed as a way to prove him wrong, slowly lifting yourself off of him. The ache of your insides as he slipped out was raw and hot and wet, but unmistakably satisfying.

“Let me out,” he demanded again. “Now.”

“I told you I don’t have the key.”

He sighed in frustration, blinking sweat from his eyes. “Then go get Kurogiri. Go get someone. And at least be nice enough to cover me up. Don’t want my dick hanging out.”

It was shiny, wet, and red from stimulation. When you went to tuck it back in his pants, it twitched.

“Oi, clean it first,” he snapped.

You glanced around. “With?”

“Whatever the hell’s lying around. Shirt, rag, your mouth.” He scoffed when you put on a frown. “Don’t give me that look. This is your mess on my dick, ya know.”

With barely contained insolence you went down shakily on your knees, ready to go about the particularly humiliating task, when he laughed dryly under his breath. 

“You’re a real slut,” he muttered, looking down on you with a cheeky smirk, “aren’t you?”

That guaranteed your spite, and you stood up just as quickly as you’d gone down, then nudged his still-messy dick into his pants and zipped them closed. 

“Oi, oi—” The wetness squished uncomfortably underneath the fabric and he shifted awkwardly, glaring at you. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“You’ll be fine,” you muttered, turning away from him in search of your clothes, hiding an indulgent smile. 

As you redressed, he sneered and pulled at his bindings. “Don’t get smart with me.”

“Or what?” 

You were too exhausted to wrangle with his temper, or your own self-preservation; you knew it was a dangerous game to tease him. But you couldn’t help it. Your mind was foggy, your body teeming with giddy pleasure. Not to mention, you were free. He wasn’t. And that was remarkably funny. 

Now he was scowling. “You little shit. Letting it all go to your head now, huh?” When you didn’t answer, when he caught a flash of your teasing smile, his frustration started to run rampant. “Not gonna be so funny when I’m out of this shit—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

In response, he just glowered, and despite the front you were trying to put up, it threw an excited shiver down your spine. You were perilously tempted to egg him on, but decided against it.

You pulled your shoes back on and breathed, looking at him with something that resembled soft smugness. “I’ll go find Kurogiri.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ better,” he muttered under his breath, keeping his critical eye-contact with you up until the very moment you disappeared out of his line of vision. 

When he heard your footsteps finally dwindle down an adjacent hall, he let out a long-suffering sigh and tilted his head back. “Fuck.”

The quirk had gone, the heat and arousal with it. 

But what hadn’t gone were the thoughts of you. 

Angry thoughts, confusing thoughts, and most of all, intriguing thoughts.

[hyunverse]

BUNGA (FLOWER) | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

gender neutral.

summary; you’re megumi’s dream person.

note; i wrote this bcs my birth name is actually a type of flower ugh the self indulgence also i like butterflies. also inspired by a song called bunga by masdo. i recommend listening to the song while reading. bunga means flower in malay!! also pls open the gif for better quality.

YOU REMIND MEGUMI OF A FLOWER. white orchids; they symbolize purity. and that’s exactly what you are to him.

fushiguro megumi remembers this one day when he and tsumiki had went to a flower garden together. he didn’t know why tsumiki suddenly felt like visiting a garden, but he followed anyway. he observed as his sister looked at the flowers around them, a smile never leaving her face and her eyes were practically sparkling. it felt nice to see his sister actually enjoy herself, especially after their parents got up and abandoned them, leaving tsumiki with all the house chores.

“look at all these flowers!”, tsumiki caressed the petals with her fingers, thumb gently gliding over the flowers, “they look so nice, don’t you think so megumi?”

megumi didn’t reply, he opted to stand beside his older sister. tsumiki explained the symbolisms of the flowers she knew of. the raven head looked stoic, as if he wasn’t listening to any of her words but the truth is, he was. he found the symbolism behind the white orchids particularly interesting. it suited the orchids’ physical appearance. white and innocence just made sense.

as the siblings chatted (though it technically was one sided on tsumiki’s part), a cat walked towards the duo. the ball of orange fur purred and nudged it’s head on tsumiki’s legs, immediately getting the teenage girl’s attention. she kneeled down, her previous smile growing wider.

petting the cat, she looked up at her younger brother, “aren’t cats so adorable?”.

“yeah,” megumi uttered. a lie. he wasn’t a big fan of cats, he found them annoying. dogs are better, that’s what he believed in but he didn’t have the heart to say that to his sister. not when she looks the happiest she had been in a while.

“and the weather’s really nice today!”, she added, eyes glancing up at the sky. the sun was glaring right into her eyes, so her pupils shrunk. she didn’t mind however, she had always loved sunny days. the sunlight shone right above their heads, and megumi didn’t like it. he could feel drops of sweat trickling down his back, causing his shirt to cling onto his skin. megumi much prefers when it’s cloudy, shades of grey in the sky, the perfect weather for staying at home and reading books.

even so, he just nodded, “mhm.”

shortly the sun started to set, spreading orange hues throughout the sky. flocks of birds returned to their nests, and so the fushiguro siblings made their way back to their abode. on their way tsumiki stole glances at her brother, letting out a dry chuckle everytime she notices the lack of expression on his face.

“you should smile more you know, megumi”, she ruffled his erratic hair, “you won’t get much friends if you keep on frowning like that”, she teased.

he grumbled, “i don’t care if i don’t have friends.”

megumi thought it was ridiculous. why would it matter, anyway? he’s fine being alone. people are bothersome; they’re too loud and they stress him out. especially the stupid punks in school who thinks they could do whatever they want. megumi simply shrugged and pushed his sister’s words out of his mind. scratch smiling and being likeable.

yet here he is, smiling at you. over no particular reason too.

currently, he’s walking along a beach with you. you; dressed up in a white sundress, a pair of sandals in your right hand. the sand burns under fushiguro’s feet but he couldn’t feel it over the fast thumping of his heart, he couldn’t feel the heat when his whole skin is tingling. he trolls behind you, walking over the footsteps you made. your sundress flows to the rhythm of your walk, flying slightly up when the wind blows your way, exposing the plush skin of your thighs. fushiguro looks away from your figure, his fair complexion tinted with blush.

you’re his best friend, he’s not supposed to look at you like that.

“it’s so nice here, megumi!”, you call out to him as you stand at the edge of the sea. waves crash, they trickle up to your toes. with a smile you hold up your hand for megumi to hold.

bashfully, megumi walks up to you and takes your hand in his. he’s reluctant, for he dislikes his hands. they’re cold and filled with callouses. so when you grip his hand as though you didn’t intend to let go, when your thumb rubs against his, he feels less insecure of his hands. the sensation of your hand in his is hot, it burns; however it feels nice.

megumi fushiguro hates warmth, but if it’s your warmth, he’d enjoy burning in heat.

the sand by the sea doesn’t feel hot on your feet. the waves get bigger and bigger; till they reach up to your ankles. you giggle because it tickled, the sound of your laughs reaching megumi’s ears. he turns to his side to see you crouching down, collecting the water in your hands.

that’s when megumi concluded, your whole existence screams purity.

a week later megumi meets you again. sometime at 11pm, by an oak tree—your usual meeting spot. the oak tree is large, it’s impossible to miss it. you stand under the oak tree, allowing dried leaves to fall onto your head, getting stuck in your hair. you know megumi would get all the leaves out of your hair. he does it everytime. he’ll pick out all the leaves out of your hair while lecturing you, though his words enter one ear then out from another. no matter how many times he says “i can’t do this all the time”, even he himself knows he would.

from afar megumi watches his best friend run around the flower field, chasing butterflies. your hair gets swept away by the wind as your hands stretch up to the sky, desperately trying to get a butterfly to land on your hand. you’re wearing a jumpsuit, the white color of the material truly brought out your skin tone. your complexion is glistening, and it makes megumi’s heart throb.

“they’re scared of you, y/n,” he finally says, putting both your hands down. the butterflies fly away from your sight, and you pout.

“but they’re so pretty,” you sigh, watching as the butterflies choose to fly anywhere but on your fingers. and then one lands on top of megumi’s shoulder.

your eyes widen, holding the sides of megumi’s figure to make him stay still. megumi could see sparks in your eyes when you admire the blue butterfly. soft is the expression you wear on your face. he likes it on you. that cute expression of yours makes megumi fall five times harder for you even when he knows he shouldn’t.

“you’re like a flower ‘gumi. it likes you.”

ridiculous, he thinks. you’re the flower. it’s obvious by the way your body moves under the moonlight, and how insanely beautiful you are.

fushiguro megumi doesn’t say anything in return, as always. he rarely does. if possible, he wants to avoid you from finding out just how in love he is with you.

after that day, you never show up under the oak tree, a few minutes distance from jujutsu high. he’ll wait for hours long only to be disappointed.

--at least not until his birthday comes, about a few months later. his face turns pale once he spotted you. you wait by the jujutsu high gate with a wide smile on his face, as if you didn’t ghost him for three months.

"glad to see you doing okay," the apple of your cheeks seem more prominent when you smile, megumi feels an urge to kiss them.

"i haven't seen you in so long," megumi mumbles, "happy to see you here today."

you grin and hold up your hand for him to take per usual, and didn’t mutter anymore words until the two of you reach a café in the outskirts of tokyo.

“nice café,” the raven comments , glancing at you. you’re wearing a puffy sleeved white blouse now—honestly, do you only own white clothes?

“found it on instagram”, you mutter, “i thought you’d like it. happy birthday, megumi.”

megumi smiles for the first time today. as a jazz song plays, he eats the birthday cake you purchased for him quietly. the cake tastes delicious (to be fair, anything you buy him is perfect) because it’s not too sweet. the fact that you remember his preference makes his smile grow a little wider.

you hum to the song and rest your head on his shoulder. it seems like the two of you are the only ones in the café—a much needed privacy. you’re usually touchy with him, and he prefers affection to be private. typically they make megumi blush, and he doesn’t want people to witness him all flustered.

“did you miss me, megumi?”, he replies to your question by nodding and placing his hand on top of yours.

serenity is this feeling, megumi thinks.

at the corner of the café stands an antique grandfather clock. it’s sounds are so loud, they resonate the whole environment. megumi suddenly becomes hyper aware of the sound, there’s a pounding in his head. the sound becomes louder and louder, to the point where megumi couldn’t feel your skin under his. he shuts his eyes close, an impossibly bright light glares his eyes.

“fushiguroooo!”, an annoying voice yells. itadori’s voice, megumi is certain.

the pounding in his head slows down. his sapphire eyes flutter open, and he realizes the light he saw was sunlight rays peeking through his blinds.

“seriously fushiguro, we’ve been calling you for an hour now. hurry up, we’re going out to eat in five. to celebrate your birthday”, megumi looks up to see nobara standing behind itadori. 

they’re both leaning against his door frame. itadori is dressed in a yellow hoodie, while nobara rocks a coat over a turtleneck. the female sorcerer holds her toy hammer tight in her grip, her eyes boring through megumi’s figure. by her posture, megumi guesses she was about to hit him with the squeaky hammer if only he didn’t wake up sooner.

fucking menaces, they could’ve left him to sleep for a little more. he hasn’t seen you in so long, he wanted to sleep in to spend time with you.

finally rubbing his eyes awake, the boy looks at the vase of orchids sitting on his nightstand. he sighs before standing up.

megumi will find you someday, he promises. if you’re a flower, he’ll gladly be the butterfly.

✉ taglist: @aliteama @dearsukuna @cybergoo @hanniemilk @ariasann @soulasdarkascoffee @okusetomura @eidotheiapriv @maat-the-prescriptive @etoilezone @elipres @scarednekozz @iridescentkitsune @crapimahuman @nectar0sw33t @hq149 @bluedelphinium @bokutos-babyowl @behan @tdntu0 @sunaluvs @guardianangelswings @fairywriter-oracle @inu-makki @erinisbadger

tagging; @candleohappiness , @haru-senji <333

[cinnamonest]

please spare more crumbs for the sex slave au with diluc and kaeya's meimei,,

Thank you for giving me permission to be more depraved this is from forever ago but I'm slowly getting the "forever ago" stuff done lol

I love the concept tho, especially Crepus buying a lil qt and having to teach them how to be good masters bc they’re both dumb clueless boys, bless.

TWs: slavery, implied incest or pseudo-incest, could give vibes as under//age (nothing is specified but I guess it could strike some people that way so I wanna be cautious), noncon/dubcon, mentions of anal, misogynistic, awful depraved and nasty -------------------------------------

God. The arguing. The rivalry. The chaos. Like, with some poly yanderes/owner/master relationships, the two work *together* and focus attention on controlling *you,* but these two are... not like that. They have a lot of rivalry going on half the time.

Now, this could be Crepus buying a slave and basically indoctrinating her as a meimei, but of course, if you actually are one of the boys' bio sis, the one is gonna claim some authenticity - you know, the whole "well she's my real sister, not yours, so I get to fuck her more" kind of thing. The other appeals to "well she's your real sister which makes you worse," and it devolves into arguing back and forth about whether or not the blood relation makes them more or less justified in sticking their dick in you and claiming more rights to meimei's time and attention. Not just to each other either, it's also directed at you -- the whole "hey, I'm your real big brother, so you should spend more time with me than him" kind of thing. It actually can get pretty annoying over time, you have to constantly be soothing not one but TWO egos in desperate need of affirmation. But here I’m going more with the idea of Crepus just buying them a sweet meimei. Diluc's more... patient. He teaches you "touch commands" -- little learned gestures, like a dog. Just the lightest touch on your spine and you know it's a clear message to arch your back, a hand under your chin and thumb pressed against it has you instinctively opening your mouth, a tap to the back of your neck and you kneel. Little gestures that can bend your body and mind with minimal effort. Despite that though, Kaeya is actually the master of The Look™ - the kind that can make you go quiet and apologize in a mere instant when given. But because you know it, expect him to be even harsher if you defy it. Sometimes in your little tantrums you get so mad that you'll have the audacity to ignore that look and keep whining or being a brat which does not end well.

Meimei is what you call free use - any time, anywhere. One of the most important lessons Crepus told you when he first got you/when you were old enough is that you are never to deny the boys any of your holes if they want it. This is just as important for the boys to learn as it is you, he's a big believer in the whole, "if you act like a good proper master, the slave will naturally fall into their role too" sort of thing, so he teaches them to be forceful and dominating, not hesitant to do what they want -- if they're clear on what they want and make known their expectation of your obedience (and the subtle implication of threat of punishments if not complied with), you'll fall into the submissive role you're meant for and naturally want to submit to them like a good little wife-sister-slave.

So, whenever one of them beckons you over, you smile and ask them how you can help. Your brothers work so hard, and it's the least you can do to take care of their needs. Sometimes they just want you to sit on their lap, wrap your arms around them, sit there a while in silence when they're sad, sometimes they want to vent to you about things when they're frustrated, sometimes they want to use you. Of course, the former two usually leads to the last anyway. You're... emotional support pussy. There's important rules and practices to be followed, it's actually rules for all three of you, several apply to them, actually, as Crepus taught you before he died, and it's become second nature for the boys (it works in their benefit, after all). #1. You can never be left alone. There's a lot of reasons for this, but primarily it's in your instinct to get fucked, all you know how to do is take cock, so if you were left alone you may very well go running off and jump onto the first thing with a dick, and they can't have that. So basically you either have to be with one of them, within their sight, or accounted for in some way - there's a couple of installed tethering hooks and the like on the walls  in several areas of the house you can be attached to. But, really, they're not usually necessary, with two very horny males running around you're busy most of the time, even if it's a more passive task. You spend a lot of time sitting on someone's lap, sometimes taking naps throughout the day with whoever decides they're tired at the moment. So, you spend more or less every waking moment with one or both -- well, every sleeping moment too, of course you don't have you own room. You alternate nights between the two just like you were told to. There's not really any task you do alone. Bathing? It's always gotta be with one or the other. Sleeping? Always with one or the other. Even when you're cooking -- because obviously you do that, they wouldn't even know how to, since you've always done it -- one is always standing beside you, talking to you, or sitting a ways over in a chair as they vent about their day. Oh, speaking of that, as aforementioned, you're there for emotional burdens too. When one has had a long day, what would they do if meimei wasn't there for them to vent and whine and complain to? You've always been taught to be a good listener. Don't interrupt. Listen to everything and don't zone out. Don't oppose their actions when they're telling you about their problems, always tell them they were in the right and comfort them. Smile while you listen. That's how you were trained to respond when one of them has some burden to unload on you. Always offer your body to make them happy. That's the last part, and they've never not taken you up on the offer. That being said, sometimes you have to... motivate them. Push a little bit. You see, you're just so sweet that sometimes your brothers might want to just spend the entire day in bed with you. So you have to motivate them to do their actual work. Tell them that if they don't go to work, if they stay in bed all day inside you, how are you supposed to clean the house and make dinner for them? So they sigh and accept you're right and go off to work after all. And, again, the rule is important for them too. You can never run off on your own, but they're also vigilant not to ever leave you alone. When you're first bought, Crepus had to constantly pull them back inside the house when they'd go to another room for something because see, you're leaving her all alone and she's going to go running off and it'll be your fault. So they had to be conditioned to communicate and make sure you were always accounted for, taught how to restrain you properly. If you were left in a room, Crepus would come by to make sure they remembered to lock you inside, would test the tightness of your leash if you were tethered to something, and sigh and chastise if one of them neglected to do it right. #2. No getting off on your own, this is a rule they have to help enforce. It's a waste - you have TWO big brothers, surely one of them is always going to be available and eager, so really, getting yours without either of them involved is pretty selfish, and worthy of punishment if found doing so. If for whatever reason they're all too busy, you have the option of asking permission to ride and grind on their thigh, but no cumming until they're done with their task and are available to properly handle it. Crepus is particularly adamant about this rule, as well as enforcing the same mentality in them, doesn't think it's appropriate for a girl to be so selfishly absorbed with pleasure when she should  be giving it to the men that own her. For one, a girl should be spending all of her time dedicated to serving her masters in some way, and two, they're both needy boys that would be eager to fuck you at any time. So really, masturbating is an act of defiance and will be dealt with as such. #3. No favoritism! There will be times where you may feel mad at one or the other, and sure you have different levels of how much you can tolerate certain behaviors... But, you have to train yourself against that. Meimei should have no limits of what she can tolerate - that's part of your whole purpose. So even when you're mad at one, you can't try to avoid that one and go to the other, you still need to divide your time, energy, and body equally. Don't talk bad about one to the other, don't try to spend more time with one or the other at any time. This also includes pitting them against each other through jealousy, it's a huge no-no. Don't try to make one jealous of the other. If they catch you doing that, sooner or later they'll realize what you're doing, and deal with it, usually harshly, since it's seen as a high-ranking offense. In fact, you really shouldn't be mad, ever. Your big brothers know what's best for you, so if you're mad over a disagreement, you just need to accept that they're right and you're wrong and that you need to submit to their will. Outwardly showing you're upset is bratty behavior, things like pouting or giving them the cold shoulder are punishable offenses. #4. You're also a peacekeeper. Diffuse fights. Both of your big brothers can be... stubborn, prideful individuals. This leads to pretty regular conflict over this and that. It's meimei's job to help with that, calm them down with a smile on your face. Or, if it works better, with some tears and a quivering lip. Please don't fight, you say with watery eyes, sniffling, and well, they can't help but feel bad, they both turn their attention to you rather than to each other and apologize for making you upset.  And if they're having one if their regular it's my turn kind of arguments, your job is to propose the easy solution of sharing. You have more than one hole to fuck, and can easily cuddle one on each side. It should be an obvious solution. Oh, and they fight sometimes over who gets to do what, who spends time with you, but doing different things rather than both wanting to do the same thing. One is sitting at his desk to work and he can't be expected to focus on work without meimei sitting on his lap and cockwarming him of course, but the other says he wants to take a nap and how is he supposed to sleep if he can't rest his head on meimei's tits? There is only so much of her to go around! But they will legit adjust their schedules to make sure they get alone time. And are very nitpicky about it -- wait why do *you* get an extra hour on Tuesday?? If you get that I deserve an extra hour on Thursday -- that sort of thing. You're supposed to be able to propose such ideas. It's your job to come up with solutions that make everyone happy. You can cockwarm one brother while he works and tell the other that hey, if he postpones the nap, you can just ride him until he cums and can sleep right? Things like that. #5 Actually isn't for you, it's for them, regarding punishment. When Crepus got you, the poor boys didn't really know how to go about doing it, so they had to be taught. It's important to be a good master and know how to do so adequately, you know? To not let anger get the better of them and go too far, since sometimes they might get too mad about something. In fact, a good trick, he teaches them, is to just tie you up, and go blow off some steam before coming back to punish you. That way they won't go too far, and you'll have to wait around in fear for a while, which just helps the punishment sink in better. But at the same time, don't go too light. No matter how much you whimper, he says, don't feel pity for her and go lax. It's intentional, it's just your nature to try and fake-cry to try and get out of it. You did something bad, so they shouldn't feel bad about it, even if you cry and squeal. It's the right thing to do. You're supposed to cry, you're supposed to say it hurts and whimper, that just means they're doing it right. But of course, there's some sensitivities to be taught. If they have you bent over a knee, they have to make sure to only hit your ass and the back of your thighs, make sure not to go up too high and hit your back, since that could cause injury. If they're gonna fuck your ass as punishment, make sure to use a certain amount of lube. Things like that, it's important to be good masters, just as much as it is your job to be a good little slave.

And to remember, of course, that meimei is... an inferior little creature. Don't get mad at her just because she's stupid and doesn't understand this or that, that's not her fault. She can't be expected to be smart or responsible, that's their job. But also, don't feel pressured to give her what she wants just because she wants it or anything. And, most importantly, don't start having self-doubt and ever think she might be right about something while they're wrong, because obviously that can't be the case. You might get defiant and try to insist you know better than them, act like you're just as capable of something as they are, or think your opinions matter or something, but in that case, they have a responsibility to remind you of your place.

[hackedmotionsensors]

I do this about once a year but here it is again

Hey so we all know I love coffee right? And I have a full caffeine addiction right?

This is just a reminder that energy drinks are

PHENOMINALLY

BAD FOR YOU

Especially if you’re a young adult or a teen (obviously don’t give them to children???). Older adults shouldn’t drink them either but I think you hit a certain age and the desire to slam a rockstar might not be as high. I think for the most part you hit your thirties and would rather be the sleepy time bear on the tea box rather than a MONSTERRRR.

But since there’s a new tiktok viral thread of some doofus marketing his energy drink (tho not using the hastag ad which is...illegal [Danny Gonzales has a whole video about it) and there are videos of kids who don’t normally drink tea or coffee trying these energy drinks bc they “taste like bubblegum and crack” and then absolutely losing it.

A link here is the health and human services government website

Here’s a Harvard article about it

Let me break down what I read this morning on about four different medical sites

Energy drinks companies are not mandated by any US Food and Drug law to list the quantity of their caffeine. A cup of coffee (about 8oz) will have around 100mg of caffeine in it. That’s black coffee straight from the coffee bean. No additives. 

A regular can of basically any energy drink will have about four times as much caffeine. And that’s from THE CAFFEINE aspect. That’s not adding in guarana, sugar, taurine, ginsing, vitamin b etc. They do not have to add the total quantity of all of this in the caffeine measurements if they even add it at all.

So not only have you quadrupled the caffeine content you’re also slamming a fuck ton of sugar. A 16 oz can of Rockstar will have 63mg of sugar in it. A kit-kat bar has 23g for a four bar serving. 

The other warning these sites gave were that things like red bull vodka are extremely dangerous but that’s more along the lines of slamming a bunch of caffeine and sugar with alcohol and not realizing how dehydrated you’ve become. Plus a stimulant and a depressant at the same time isn’t always a great idea. That’s a one way ticket to barf city.

Another thing and this is my number 1 reason why I tell people PLEASE do not drink energy drinks AT ALL. My first day on the job at the hospital and one of my patients (I delivered food so its not like I was a nurse or a doctor) was in the room because his kidneys had failed because he just kept slamming energy drinks. Now that’s probably an outlier but I think the environment behind energy drinks is more to do with RADICALLL COOL GUY E-SPORTS OR REGULAR SPORTS!! MOTOR BIKE YEAHHHH attitude (similar to the whole mountain dew do the dew vibe) combined with people who are forced to work excruciatingly long hours (Doctors, Nurses, College students, people with multiple jobs, people who have to wake up at extremely terrible hours like teamsters) and that rather than give them appropriate working hours so they aren’t burnt out they promote these horrible drinks to force them into working longer harder hours. Or people like twitch streamers or e-sports players who have promos or sponsors because whats one thing gamers love to do ? Stay up all night and day gaming. What can help you do that? Fucking energy drinks. Instead of giving proper hours and saying hey I’m gonna take a solid eight hours from gaming and I’m going to go the fuck to sleep they keep pumping these awful drinks into their system.

Again. I drink  AAA LOTTTTT of coffee. I was a barista. And the only time I’ve felt like my heart was going to EXPLODE was drinking a starbucks energy drink so I could stay awake in class. Nevermind that part of the problem was that I was working and going to school and drawing all day and night instead of going to sleep and drinking water.

Energy drinks are marketed to teens and young adults so basically this is a long post from an older person BEGGING YOU PLEASE do not drink Energy drinks. We’ve had coffee and tea for almost as long as humans have been alive. We KNOW what coffee and tea does. If you need a boost of energy you’re safer having a coffee or a candy bar or just getting a little bit of exerise. You’d be surprised what a walk around campus or the neighborhood can do. Or drink water. DRINK WATER!!!!!!!!!

YOU NEED WATER!!! Humans are basically houseplants. We need sunlight, water and fertilizer(or food if you will). 

[yamalegacy]

genre: n/sfw, filthy filthy smut with a semblance of plot (this is me pretending it’s not just pure smut so i added some context tbh)

pairing(s): kayama nemuri (r-rated hero: midnight) x reader

cw: sub!reader, (technically gn) afab!reader, semi-public sex, desk sex (midnight bends you over her desk bc i said so), mommy!midnight, finger sucking, reader is struggling with anxiety if you “squint”, written with a 8/9-year age gap in mind (i’m shameless) but it’s not explicit

word count: a lot tbh 3.2k+

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

U.A. High School felt like an uncharted territory, some sort of a forbidden land that you shouldn't step into, and yet, here you are, standing just a few feet away from the enormous, heavy doors. The infamous U.A. Barrier that keeps those who don't belong in the school away — and to prove it, there is a line of journalists waiting outside. You aren't one of them, though, you aren't like them. Your Special Entry Permission ID is clutched tightly in your hand as you try to gather the courage to get through the small crowd of journalists.

Finally, you step forward, your breath catching in your throat as you approach the Barrier. You feel like even with your special permission, it won't open, leaving stranded out there. You've had the ID (courtesy of your girlfriend) for nearly three weeks now and never once dared to use it.

As the Barrier unfolds in front of your eyes, you can hear gasps of surprise behind you, and whispers of rumors making their way to your ears of full of spite. Jealousy. It's just jealousy, you tell yourself. You aren't doing anything wrong. Those people don't even know who you are, so it's nothing personal, really. But still, you feel your heart sink in your chest and your face burn at the sudden excessive amount of attention on you. Relief washes over you when the Barrier closes again behind you, shielding you from prying eyes and uncomfortable gossiping.

You take your phone out of the back pocket of your pants. 15:07. Nemuri's last class of the day is almost over. You breathe deeply as you struggle to remember what she told you about the layout of the school — she should be in the main building, with class 3-A (you don't remember her whole schedule, of course, but there's details that you just can't seem to be able to forget).

"You probably shouldn't be around here unaccompanied."

The voice startles you, and when you turn around to look at who addressed you, you are faced with a wall. A tall wall of muscles in a red costume. You look up and find an all too intense pair of red eyes staring at you.

Vlad King. Blood Hero: Vlad King is standing in front of you, staring at you, making you very small and definitely even more out of place than you already felt. Too intense. But when his eyes land of your Permission ID, he seems to relax — the man is still too intense though.

"I need to find 3-A?" your voice comes out a little too squeaky for your liking.

He frowns for a moment, visibly thinking your words over. "Midnight's with them?"

Though he speaks out loud, it seems to be more to himself than to you. Still, you nod shyly, and it's like something lights up in his head, understanding replacing his frown.

"You're the partner!"

You don't need a mirror to know that your face is turning a bright shade of red that could rival Vlad King's costume, and all you can do is nod again. Nemuri has talked about you to her colleagues? God, you hope she hasn't said anything embarrassing.

"Follow me then!"

Before you can say anything, Vlad King is making his way towards a staircase. You need to nearly run to catch up with him. "I had lunch with her today. Didn't say anything about you coming to U.A. though."

"It's a surprise?" you offer hesitantly. “I managed to get out of work early for once, so I thought..." you trail off, realizing that you are already talking more than you should, more than you usually would with a stranger. Your face is definitely not doing to stop blushing any time soon, and the erratic beating of your heart isn't about to calm down any sooner.

Just as can finally see the classroom, the bell rings and students swarm the corridor — Vlad King has a hand on your shoulder and keeps you away from students all too excited to get back to their dorms. Nemuri's students stare at the two of you in passing; a blond boy and a girl with periwinkle hair even more curiously so than the others, but Vlad King's presence by your side probably stops them from asking questions.

"Hey, Midnight, there's someone here to see you!" the Pro Hero booms as soon as the corridor is nearly empty.

You can't help but noticed the way Nemuri's shoulders tense at the loud exclamation, a tension that almost disappears when her eyes find you. But there's a frown creasing her brow as soon as her gaze lands on Vlad King's large hand, still resting comfortably on your shoulder.

"You should have said something about your little partner being this cute," he continues, patting your shoulder with just a bit too much force, and the gesture makes Nemuri's eyes narrow. "I'll let you two be then!"

He doesn't wait a second, doesn't acknowledge Nemuri opening her mouth to say something, before he steps away, immediately striking a conversation with one of the few students still present in the corridor.

When you look back at your girlfriend, she is simply staring at you, and you can't find the courage to take a step inside the classroom, instead standing awkwardly in the doorway. Shit. What are you? A vampire waiting for an invitation to come in someone's home or something?

"Sorry I came unannounced. I probably made things awkward for you," you mumble, staring down at your feet as you can't find it in you to look at her in the eyes.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I'm always happy to see your pretty face." The words make you look up, and Nemuri is staring at you, soft smile tugging at your lips as she crooks a finger to beckon you — and oh so obediently, you step inside the classroom.

She stands up from her chair and approaches, a soft hand immediately placed on your cheek, gentle and warm, though her face remains impossible to read. "Did Kan-san treat you well?"

You nod. "He was really nice," you say, your voice still betraying your nerves. Nemuri's thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before she lowers her hand your shoulder, where Vlad King's was moments ago. It would be soothing if her perfectly manicured red nails weren't digging into your skin ever so slightly. "But he's still scary," you add hurriedly. Nemuri loosens her grip, but her hand doesn't move away.

Maybe Vlad King isn't quite as scary as a jealous Midnight. (And he isn't nearly as hot either.)

She leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, it's brief and she pulls away almost immediately to retreat and settle back down in her chair. As she watches you, you freeze, unable to even take one step forward. There's that look in Nemuri's eyes, the one that make a shiver run up your spine and makes you want to press your thighs together.

"Baby, close the door for me and come here."

Always seeking to please your girlfriend, you obey without saying a word, pushing the heavy door until it’s closed. You turn back to look at Nemuri again and she is waiting, hands settled on her lap as she stares at you, unblinking. Hesitantly, shaking on your legs, you approach her, knowing that you are but a small prey rushing into the claws of your predator; the smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth only confirms it.

As soon as you’re close enough, Nemuri grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, guiding you onto her lap, forcing you to straddle her thighs. 

“You came all the way here from work just to see me?”

You nod at her question, and she nearly coos at you in response. “You’re so sweet, baby,” she whispers against your lips before giving your mouth a faint peck. “Always so nice and good for me, aren’t you?”

You nod again. One of her hands moves away from your hips and you know to brace yourself, but you still let out a yelp when her palm comes into contact with your ass — it’s playful, you know she hasn’t put much of her strength in it, but Nemuri is a lot stronger than most give her credit for.

“Y-Yes! I am!” You stutter your way through the three simple words. Nemuri is obviously in one of those moods where she expects you to be verbal when she talks to you, that’s what earned you the spank, there’s not a doubt in your mind about it. It’s a dangerous mood for your girlfriend to be in at her work place; there’d be nothing reasonable about whatever she has in mind.

You try to stand up, but Nemuri’s grip on you keeps you firmly where she wants you.

“Nemuri,” you whine, “we shouldn’t...”

“We shouldn’t what, baby?” she asks, smirking up at you before tilting her head to kiss your neck.

“Not here...”

You feel her teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck (you know she is leaving a bruise, but you can’t stop her, don’t even want to stop her) and the moan that escapes your throat is embarrassing.

“What can’t we do?” she insists.

"I know you, Nemuri," you start, placing your hands on her shoulders to keep yourself balanced and stable as her lips found your pulse point. Your breathing is already getting ragged, and you know, just as you know Nemuri wants to fuck you, that you are dripping wet. "This is your work place," you whisper, "we can't have sex here."

She chuckles at your words, and all you want is to bury your face in her neck, in her hair, to hide your reddening cheeks. She pulls away, kisses your cheek in the most delicate of manners, and looks at you, seeming all too serious all of a sudden — which means that she's definitely up to something.

“I don’t know about having sex, but I could definitely fuck you. Right here, right now.”

“Nemuri,” your voice doesn’t sound anywhere near the tone of warning you aimed for. It’s embarrassing. But at least you could have sounded whinier, so there’s still a sliver of hope for your dignity to make it through the day.

She offers you a smile when you finally look back at her face; it’s a soft and genuinely kind smile, no trace of teasing.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll stop and let you go, I promise. But you have to tell me, baby.”

You already knew that Nemuri wouldn’t push you to do anything that you don’t want to do; she has always been caring and respectful of you, but still, it is reassuring to hear the words in this moment. But you don’t want her to stop.

“Do you want me to stop touching you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “N-No!” you hurry to say before Nemuri has a reason to give you another spank.

"What do you want, then?" Her sultry tone sends a shiver up your spine

You don't like that question; you've never liked it in any sort of context. There are too many possibilities, too many ways to answer and it's too much. The thought that you may say the wrong thing plagues your mind every time. Nemuri seems to notice your growing distress, and caresses your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, once, twice. She leans her forehead against yours.

The silence that settles between the two of you is comfortable, barely interrupted by your heavy breathing. It’s hard to catch your breath when you are sitting on the lap of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met — when all of her attention is on you, just you, nothing else.

“Can I take off your pants and touch you, baby?” Nemuri asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Please.”

Nemuri smiles and guides you off her lap, but her hands remain on your hips as she does so, keeping you up on your feet as your legs tremble. She unbuttons your pants and meets your eyes with her own, probably trying to look for any sign that you might want to put a stop to everything, but when all she can see is your smile and flushed face, she pulls down your zipper. You swallow thickly as you watch her hook her thumbs into the waistline of your pants to tug them down. She kneels down in front of you to push your pants past your knees and helps you step out of one of the legs — only one though.

Her eyes trail up your body, lingering on your underwear, and you hide your face in your hands, refusing to look at the satisfied smirk on her lips. You’re so wet already that you’ve soaked through your underwear, you just know it, and there’s no way in hell Nemuri hasn’t noticed it.

She kisses your thighs and quickly moves to press her mouth to your core. Through the dampened fabric of your underwear, you feel her tongue peeking out past her lips to tease your clit. The moan that her tongue elicits is indecent and embarrassingly loud, it makes Nemuri chuckle against you, the vibrations making your body shake violently.

“Please don’t tease,” you mutter. She looks up at you and you bite down on your lip for a second, “please, mommy. No teasing.”

“Since my baby asked so nicely,” she starts as her fingers grab your underwear to pull it down, “mommy will be nice today,” she whispers against your cunt before standing back up.

She circles around you silently, stopping behind you. When you turn your head to glance above your shoulder to see what Nemuri is up to, you feel strong fingers on your neck, her palm warm against the back of it. She presses against your neck until you obediently bend down over her desk; she doesn’t bother moving her papers away, simply forcing your face down against it.

“Hands on the desk. And don’t you dare move or I’ll make sure you can’t sit properly for days.”

You don't need to be told twice; your hands find the edge of the desk, gripping at it like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from shaking. You know she is staring at you, at your ass, at your dripping cunt, like you're the most beautiful thing she's ever looked at. It's what she always does. And yet, its effect on you never changes.

She kicks at one of your feet, not hard, just a way for her to signal that she wants you to spread your legs further for her, which you do. A gentle finger runs up the inner side of your thigh, stopping just before it can reach your most sensitive spot.

"I haven't even started to touch you and you're already dripping," she says as she leans down, her ample chest flush against your back and hips against your ass. "Such a desperate little slut for me."

Nemuri kisses your neck before standing back up, and you whine as her comforting warmth leaves your body. All you want is to feel her, but she keeps denying you.

"Don't worry, baby. You've been good for mommy, so I'll treat you well and make you come."

"Pl—Please! Mommy, I need you!"

She hums, delighted by the pathetic desperation in your voice. You hear her move behind you, and all of a sudden, she's spreading your lower lips and her tongue teases your core.

"Fuck," you groan, knees bucking at the sudden touch and pleasure rushing through your whole body.

She laps at your cunt, humming again in delight, satisfied by your taste. Her thumb finds your clit, pressing her thumb harshly against it before she starts to circle it, the movements quicken to reach the punishing pace that you've grown accustomed to throughout your relationship with Nemuri.

Tension builds in the pit of your stomach, your grip on the Nemuri's desk the only thing that keeps you stable as she fucks you with her tongue. You're getting close to release at an alarming, embarrassing speed, and for a moment, you think you can feel your girlfriend smile against your pussy.

"I'm so close," you moan, "please—"

And just like that, everything stops. You can't feel Nemuri's tongue, or hands, or breath on your skin, and you whine in the most pitiful of manners. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You need her to make you come. Before you can whine once more and complain about wanting an orgasm, two of her fingers are pushing against your hole.

You're so wet and turned on that her fingers meet no resistance as she pushes then into your sopping cunt. She doesn't move them though, simply kisses both your ass cheeks.

"Mommy..." you whimper weakly.

"Yes, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Please—"

You're sobbing and too desperate to care about how wrecked and miserable you must seem right now.

"Please what?"

"Mommy," you whimper, voice trembling just as much as your limbs. "I need you to fuck me! Please!"

"You're so good for me today, baby," she coos as she gives your ass a harsh squeeze, her fingers still unmoving deep inside your core. "Keep being good for me and try not to be too loud. We wouldn't want anyone to get curious and find us like that, would we?"

And finally, Nemuri starts fucking you with her fingers, pumping them in and out your cunt at a merciless pace. Your muscles clench around her fingers as she fucks you, her free hand sneaking between your thighs to pinch your clit between two fingers. You have to bite on your arm to keep yourself from screaming at the sudden sensation.

"Mommy— I'm gonna—"

"It's okay, baby, you can come for me."

And you do. You come on her fingers, muffling your screams into your arm. She helps you ride out your orgasm, fingers moving gently into you until your breathing becomes even and she pulls them out. She wraps an arm around your waist and guides you to her chair, sitting you there, setting one knee next to your thigh. She takes your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilts your head; you can feel a sticky wetness on your skin and you know it's your juices coating her fingers.

She kisses you and, out habit, you part your lips to grant her tongue access. You can taste yourself in her mouth, it's embarrassing but you can't pull away.

"Open up, baby," she demands, letting go out your chin to press her drenched fingers against your lips.

You gladly take them into your mouth, lips wrapping around her fingers to suck on them, tongue twirling around them to clean them up of your slick arousal.

Nemuri kisses your forehead, "you're so cute, baby, always so good and obedient for mommy," she whispers, smiling softly at you. "I really should consider keeping a strapon in my things in case you come see me at school again."

"You can always fuck me with a strapon when we get home," you mumble, unable to meet her eyes as your face flushes all over again.

"Oh, I intend to, my sweet baby."

[scarecrow-supremacy]

A/N: Oookieee, so I decided to start writing a new fic bc I have great ideas for a story line. Yet I can’t bring myself I writing an actual beginning. Like I’ve already written some random chapters, but I can’t do anything with them because they don’t really make much sense without the context of the rest of the fic/my ideas. Like this chapters is where the romance/actual x reader gets into actual action. Hopefully you get the gist of what the plot is, and aren’t confused as hell from this part. Sorry if it’s a bit long, it’s around 4.8k-ish words. Enjoy 💜

Hatake Kakashi wasn't one to celebrate his birthday.

He simply thought that they were foolish excuses to let loose and party. To Kakashi, birthdays were no reason to be happy and celebrate. They were just reminders of how long he had endured the pain of living. Each year marked another without the people he once held close in his heart. His father, his sensei, his teammates, and (y/n)...

The day that (y/n) gone on that horrible mission was his special day. The mission he was supposed to go on, but (y/n) filled in for because she wanted him to go celebrate with Gai and the others. So much for having the day of joy...Kakashi thought to himself mournfully.

With a great sigh, he grabbed the last of his belonging, shoving them in his mission pack. He'd promised to take his students out of a group mission for the day, but it had been mostly for selfish reasons. Kakashi had hoped that this would take his mind off of the weight in his soul, yet knowing that his efforts would be futile. The loss would never leave him, it would always follow him like a darned shadow. It would forever haunt him. There was not letting go of the horrors of his past.

Slowly, Kakashi strolled to the gates of Konoha to meet his kids, shoving his hands in his pockets as he mumbled a little tune under his breath. The dark cloudy sky and drizzling rain seemed to mirror how he felt inside.

Drip, drop. Drop, drop. Drop, drop.

Each raindrop fell upon the dirt paths of the town, dampening Kakashi's Jonin uniform. If only he'd gone on that mission, if only he hadn't let (y/n) take his place. If only so many things that happened hadn't. If only he felt whole again. He could feel the heavyweight of guilt on his shoulders, spreading pain throughout his body. Sure, Team 7 filled the void, but they could only do so much. If there is one thing I wish for, it is that these kids will grow up to be happy.

A soft smile played upon Kakashi's face as he approached the three teens. "KAKASHI-SENSEI!" His hyperactive blonde student, Uzumaki Naruto, yelled at him, "YOU'RE LATE-TTEBAYO!" He raised his fist in anger. Sakura glared at both Kakashi and Naruto, slapping the boy's back to calm him down. Off to the side stood Sasuke, his hands in his pockets as he briefly kicked the dirt and pebbles around him to form his clan's symbol. "Usuratonkachi," he grumbled at the group. To be honest, Kakashi did feel a little guilty about keeping the kids waiting for him. They were being held back just because he was wallowing in self-pity. And Kakashi felt ashamed of that; ordering his mind to push his thoughts further to the back of his mind.

Kotetsu and Izumo, guards of the gates, turned to the team and smiled in greeting. "The gate opening mechanism is broken, so we have to manually open the gates," they explained. "Heading out yet again, eh?" Kotetsu chuckled. "I thought you lot just came back from a mission. Ya leaving so soon?" Izumo asked. Naruto pumped his hand into the air, "Yeah! Dattebayo! It's only a C rank, but it'll be fun-ttebayo!"

He's a lot like you, eh Obito, Kakashi's mind wandered as he looked up at the clouded sky, a drop of rain fell upon his nose and slid down his mask. If only you, Minato-sensei, and Rin were here to see us in action. You would be proud.

But what about (y/n)? Part of Kakashi was surprised that he didn't think of her immediately. Did he still believe that she could've been alive? After the Hokage had told him that he'd lost contact with (y/n), Kakashi didn't know what to think. It had been 3,650 days since she left. 3,589 since she was supposed to come back. And 3,529 days since they fully lost contact. What were the chances she'd come back, alive or injured? Kakashi wanted to believe that she was still alive. Was that realistic?

"She's gone, Kakashi! You need to understand that!" He flashed back to when Asuma, Gai, and Kurenai had tried to slap some sense into him. Well actually, Kurenai had slapped him. "Kakashi-sensei?" Sakura gently tugged his sleeve, straining her arm up so her red umbrella would also cover his head. "Are you okay? You've been spacing out a lot lately." She whispered as she looked up at him.

"I'm fine, Rin," Kakashi weakly smiled, "It's nothing that you should worry about." Sakura flashed him a questioning look, "Rin?" Sucking the air, Kakashi's whole body tensed up, "Sorry." He looked away, turning his attention to the bickering Sasuke and Naruto. "Just a little mix-up, Sakura." He put on a fake smile, breaking up the boy's fight. "Let's go, shall we?"

"Alright! Shanaroo!"

"Dattebayo!"

Kotetsu and Izumo went to open the gates but stopped to exchange worrisome glances. "Someone just knocked from the other side of the gates. Which is weird because our list says that we shouldn't be expecting anybody." Izumo knit his eyebrows together. Kotetsu, who had been looking through a glass which allowed him to see the incomer, hastily urging Izumo to help him. "ANBU!" He had barked at his partner, "Bleeding! Dying, wounds, whatever! They need medical attention!" That had caught Kakashi's attention, he got ready to act as the guards opened up the gates, heaving on the rusted hinges. Yet he was not mentally prepared for what awaited on the other side of the grand doors.

There she stood. Uniform torn, stained and ripped up. The wakizashi sword that was strapped to her hip was blunt and scratched, the sheath dented. Skin scratched and bruised, wounds dripping with blood and gore. A long x shaped cut on the inner side of her left thigh. Gasping and choking for air, she started to wobble, blood dribbling down her limbs and stomach. The rain continued to fall, now hard and heavy; burning and searing the wounds of the lady. Yet she still managed to keep her face from wavering In an instant, Kakashi recognized who the woman was based on her cracked porcelain ANBU mask. (y/n).... "Sakura! Go alert the hospital. And you two boys, clear the way for Sakura so she can get there. Quickly!" Kakashi ordered them as he took the heavily wounded woman in his arms. Anger and fear coursed through Kakashi's veins as his heart thumped erratically. He could feel (y/n)'s body twitch in pain. "Izumo, go let Hokage-sama know that Ibara-hime has returned." Kakashi let out one last demand before zipping off to follow his kids.

"Kakashi..." (y/n) mumbled out his name, "Kakashi..." she shakily rose her hands up to gently cup his masked cheeks. "What is it?" He whispered, gently rubbing her skin through a torn patch of her ripped uniform. "Happy birthday, Hatake..." She softly breathed, her tight grip of Kakashi's chest loosened as her eyes dropped closed. Please don't die, (y/n)... I've waited all the fucking years. You aren't leaving me again. A tear formed in Kakashi's eye, flying off with the rain as he bolted towards the hospital. Stay with me a bit longer, will you?

"My sensei will be here any second with an ANBU woman in need of immediate medical attention!" Kakashi heard Sakura's voice quiver as he barged into the hospital. "I'm here, kids. Go to Gai-sensei and stay with him until I'm back." He quickly barked, flashing all of the nurses who flowed into the room a nervous look. "Please, help her. I'm begging you." He pleaded with the staff uncharacteristically. I need her to live. Need. "We do what we can, sir." One of the medic-nin nodded, putting (y/n)'s unconscious body onto the stretcher. If (y/n) lives, that would be the best birthday gift ever.

Kakashi jogged after the nurses and doctors, peering into the emergency clinic room through the window. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you won't be able to visit the lady until all the major injuries have been cleaned up and treated." A male nurse out his hand in his shoulder from behind. "But..! Okay..." Kakashi let out a sigh, "Isn't there any paperwork that needs to be filled out?"

The nurse shook his head, "The Hokage has come and is speaking to one of my colleagues about it. Don't worry about it. You won't have to take care of any of that." He tried to reassure the angsty shinobi, "The woman is part of the ANBU ranks, right? Her mask is of the uniform." Kakashi nodded his head, biting his lip inside of his mask, "Yeah...she is... but it's kinda complicated." The nurse raised his eyebrow but just shrugged. "Can I speak with the Hokage?" The Hatake requested. "Come this way," the other man sighed, leading him away.

Kakashi let out a deep and long sigh as he held (y/n)'s scraped hand in his gloved ones. He had been told by the same nurse from before that (y/n) was in a decent state to accept visitors, yet was still unconscious. He could tell that the nurse was hiding something from him, but he was too worried about (y/n) to give it a second thought. Hesitantly, he brought her hand to his masked lips, gently pressing them against the fabric. "Ya know, (y/n). After you left, I decided to give those goddamn books a try. And you're right, they are addictive. Thanks for the gift," Kakashi sadly chuckled before pausing for a moment.

"Those books, they helped me a lot. They helped me get through my days, just like you told me."

"They also helped me realize something. They helped me realize that I don't hate you. I don't want to hate, and I never should've."

"I've realized that I was such a dick to you at the beginning and that it was all my fault that our relationship became how it was. I regret it... So when you wake up again, I just want to start over again. Maybe not entirely, but just so that we can leave all the hate behind us. How does that sound?"

Kakashi stared at the sleeping (y/n), her chest heaving up and how slowly and rhythmically. It hurt him to see her like that, her skin swollen in the places of the stitches and anointed bruises. "Listen, (y/n). I'd never been able to tell this to you while you're conscious, so I might as well let it out now. I...I love you." Kakashi rightly shut his uncovered eye. "After feeling your loss, my dumbass self finally realized how much you are worth. After they pass on, you and the others were all I had left. But then you also left me, that hurt like hell." His tone started to break.

"Lord Hokage told me about the whole fake-death move, and I was relieved that you weren't gone for good. And then we lost contact, everybody assumed the mission had been finished, and your squad sacrificed your lives for it. I couldn't let the fact that you could be a dead sink in. It didn't feel right. Gai, Asuma, and Kurenai tried to get me out of another depression cycle. Kurenai even went to the lengths of quite literally slapping some sense into me." Kakashi played with a loose strand of (y/n)'s (h/c) hair.

The muscles of (y/n)'s hand twitched ever so slightly. Kakashi's drooping head snapped up; he'd almost fallen asleep in the chair. "(y/n)?" He murmured as her eyes started to flutter, "(y/n)?"

(y/n) chapped lip parted ever so slowly, taking a big breath of air, her (e/c) eyes squinting. "Hatake..?" She shakily managed to mumbled, her voice hoarse and dry. She tried to prop herself up on the bed, but Kakashi eased her back into her resting position. "Rest, (y/n), you're not ready to stress yourself yet." Kakashi to her, "I'll be back with a nurse and some water for you, alright?" (y/n) opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She simply looked down and nodded.

Moments later, Kakashi came back with the nurse and water. "Here," he carefully put the cup to her lip, gently tipping the cup, "Good." He turned to the nurse, who seemed to be scribbling something down from the little monitor to his clipboard. Kakashi's eyes followed the cord attached to it, to the long x shaped hash in (y/n)'s inner left thigh. What worried Kakashi was the anxious look on the nurse's face.

"(l/n)-san, your vitals are doing alright, but you'll have to stay here for a night or two just so that we can keep an eye on something's that may need monitoring." He curtly nodded his head, "Lord Hokage wished to speak to you. So, sir, that means you may have to leave."

Kakashi tried to reason with the other man, but (y/n) reached to weakly squeeze his thigh. "It's okay, Hatake. You can just drop by later." (y/n) tried to smile. "Fine," Kakashi grumbled, leaving the room and letting Hiruzen in.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hiruzen came back out. "How's (y/n)?" Kakashi asked him impatiently. The Hokage put his hand on Kakashi's shoulder as if trying to soothe him, "She'll be better soon. Don't worry, alright." The silver-haired shinobi let out a small grunt, "I know that she'll get better with time. But what about now?"

Kakashi knew that Hiruzen loved (y/n) almost like a daughter, he cared about her deeply. Hence the elaborate cover-ups to protect (y/n) and her squad on the unconventionally lengthy mission. The Hatake could see the sadness that had tried to be tucked away in the Sarutobi's eyes. "The main concern of the moment is the poison in the gash on her left thigh. The medic-nins have tried to extract as much of it as possible, and try to find something that will counteract the effects." The elderly man explained to him. "Did they find an antidote?" Kakashi questioned.

"That is where the problem lies," Hiruzen explained, "There is a certain medicinal herb that is used alongside a jutsu to nullify the effects, as the poison has traces of chakra. We have a few medics on hand who support the skill to perform the jutsu, but we don't have the plant. Even so, that won't be a permanent cure." Kakashi knit his eyebrows together, "How would it not be a perfect cure? Plus, since there are traces of chakra, could we possibly track down the person who created the poison and make them fess up on the cure?" He questioned.

"Great thinking, but..." Hiruzen groaned, "(y/n) said that they performed a self-destruction jutsu just after striking her. He probably thought that it would be in their best interest to take their secrets to the grave with them." Kakashi cursed under his breath, "Fuck... This is terrible."

Hiruzen nodded in agreement, "No duh."

Kakashi's head shot up, "Uh?!"

The elder man's eyes widened, "Did I use the term correctly?! I'm trying to pick up on the phrases the kids are using these days..."

Kakashi gritted his teeth, "Right idea of the meaning, I guess. But the context and timing...wasn't quite fit." Looking ever so slightly dejected, "Oh...alright." Smoothening out the wrinkles in his robe and putting in his cob pipe, "Kakashi, if you are going to stay here with (y/n), could you at least pick up some good food. The food in the hospital canteen is quite bland." Kakashi nodded his head and obliged, only to be stopped in his tracks by Hiruzen.

"Kakashi, I'd like to ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What caused your change in actions towards (y/n) change so much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've observed you two whilst you were in the ANBU together, and you never got along that well. And suddenly you act so attached to her, Kakashi. You don't need to answer. It's just that as your leader, I want to understand what is going on in the heads of some of my most trusted people." Hiruzen explained to Kakashi, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cob pipe.

Kakashi frowned from behind his mask, trying to figure out how to explain his change of feelings in a professional manner. "I think that after I was given the impression that she was gone, I noticed that I cared about her. It made me realize that I was wrong to not see how much she meant in my life." He tried, his voice fading off into a whisper. Hiruzen smiled and nodded, "You really are something else, Kakashi."

Kakashi silently strolled over to Ichiraku's to grab some takeout. The paper lanterns lit the nearly empty streets of Konoha, creating a soft and soothing ambiance. The smell of the rain and moisture still clung to the air, the dirt roads had muddy dampness to them. "Yo! Kakashi, my eternal rival!" A boisterous and friendly voice greeted the said man. "Hey, Gai," Kakashi responded, he noticed his students sitting alongside each other and gave them a quick wave and smile. Naruto and Lee were arguing about who'd get Sakura. Sakura insisted that Sasuke would come around in her favor. Sasuke was quietly eating his food. And Neji and Tenten were discussing a new sword they saw in the windowsill of a weaponry shop.

"I'll take two eggplant miso soups with brown rice noodles," Kakashi leaned over the counter space between Lee and Naruto to order his meal, also effectively stopping the argument. "Thanks, Ayame," he thanked the daughter of Teuchi, owner of the quaint place. "No problem, Kakashi-san!" She chirped.

"Kakashi?" Gai raised his brushy brow, "Your kids told me about what happened this morning..." Kakashi sighed and pulled him aside so that they were at a comfortable distance, "It was (y/n)..." he told his best friend, "She's back and in the hospital because she's not in good health at the moment. I just came here to pick up a meal for her." Kakashi watched as Gai's jaw dropped, "(Y/N) IS ALIVE!" He exclaimed a touch too loud for his eternal rival's taste, "CAN I MEET HER?!" Tears of youthful joy waterfalled down the jumpsuit-clad man's cheeks. "I'll see if you can come tomorrow, alright Gai." Gai smiled broadly, "This is very...unusual. Youthful, nonetheless!" He grinned.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head and nodded, "I'm glad she's back..." he murmured barely loud enough for Gai to hear. Knowingly, Gai patted Kakashi's back. "Oh! Yeah! Happy birthday, my youthful rival!" He gently punched his comrade's shoulder. A smile formed on Kakashi's lips, "Thanks, Gai." He flashed his eccentric friend his signature close-eyed smile.

"I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kakashi! Have a good night!"

Knock knock, Kakashi rapt (y/n)'s door, "Can I come in?"

"Come in," (y/n) murmured, a small moan of pain escaping her lips, "Ouch..."

Kakashi quickly set the takeout on a little table, rushing to (y/n)'s side. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and helped her to the table. "I got us dinner because the food at the canteen isn't that good." He explained with a slight shrug. "Thanks, Hatake," a weak smile formed on her lips. The silvered-haired Jonin served them their meals. "Itadakimasu," they both mumbled.

Heavy tension filled the room as they ate in silence. (y/n) knew that Kakashi had his mask down, but didn't look up. "It's been a while..." Kakashi breathed, in hopes of hearing (y/n) speak, "Too long..." The kunoichi rested her forehead on her palm, "I- Yeah..." she mumbled, eyes growing classier by the second. So much for trying to start a conversation... Kakashi thought sadly as they resumed their meals without a word. The silence seemed to be killed him. Kami, it had been 10 goddamn years! 3650 days since he had gotten to talk to the woman. He missed her. Hell, he could even say that he missed all of their little spats. Hatake Kakashi missed everything about (y/n).

"I missed you..." was all Kakashi mumbled as he pushed his finished food away and pulled up his mask, "All these days, months, and years."

Hot tears slipped down (y/n)'s cheeks, forming a puddle on the table. "I-I came back be-because I didn't want-want to hurt you and the r-rest. Dying on passed down pain to the people who love you. I can't afford to c-carry the guilt of t-that." She mumbled shakily, "I promised to be back, a-and I held up the promise." Kakashi sadly smiled as he awkwardly reached under the table to gently caress (y/n)'s thigh.

"You care about others so much, but you should really take a moment to care about yourself, (y/n)." Kakashi scolded the injured kunoichi, "You had me scared for you; all those gashes and open wounds... You could've died," he knit his eyebrows together in worry. "Don't do that ever again."

(y/n)'s dull smile faltered as Kakashi spoke on, "Now you know how I felt when I saw you doing all those suicidal stunts back then on those missions. It was like you were in a hurry to die... I mean, I was too, but you did some seriously dumb shit," she giggled emptily. Kakashi sweat-dropped, "I see... I guess you are right..." (y/n) rolled her (e/c) eyes as the masked shinobi let out a drained sigh, "I'm always right, Hatake."

"Really, (l/n)? You've been through torturous pain, and you still act like a child." Kakashi groaned, "All these years..." (y/n) shot him a hard glare, "All these years and you still think you're in charge of me." He cast a confused look, "It's my duty to protect you, as a comrade." As a comrade... "I guess, but you're just annoying, Hatake," she huffed.

"I'm sorry about ruining your birthday with my arrival and stuff. I probably ruined your plans with those kids." (y/n) looked down, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them, "I could hear you guys through the gate; they seemed pumped about going out. I'm sorry, I didn't think about the flaws in my whole plan." Kakashi's head snapped up from its resting position on the table, "It's fine, they don't even know it's my birthday," he paused, "But you planned to come here? As in, today in particular. With all those injuries, (l/n), you should've just tried to take care of yourself. My birthday isn't as important as your health."

The (y/n) shook her head, "I was going to stay at a small village pretty far from here before finally coming home. I planned to just heal up there and see how things went from there. I even considered settling down there. But that just didn't feel right," (y/n) face set in a frown, "Once I realized that your birthday wasn't that far off, I decided that I couldn't stay and needed to come back. I doubted I would even live to be back. But here I am..." she said with a soft wince of pain. "It was terrible, I hated every second of it," Her (s/t) fingers made their way to the raw mark on her inner thigh, “I’d already lost so much; there was nothing for me to lose at that point.” Kakashi's face softened as he understood what she meant. (y/n) wasn't put in the mission alone, she had her team. They all must've been killed with time.

"Ouch!" (y/n) yelped as she let out a moan of pain, clenching the fabric of her hospital-issued pajama pants. “Shh..." Kakashi whispered into her ear, quickly leaning in to soothe her, "What's causing all this pain?" He asked with a frown as (y/n) bit her lip. "It's the thing in your thigh, right? Lord Hokage and the nurse told me a bit about it. But I still don't fully understand it and how it can't fully be cured."

(y/n) buried her face in her hands, "Oh..." She mumbled, "The poison can't de be removed because it's already been inside of me too long. And since it is laced with chakra, the properties of it aren't completely like normal poison." She blinked back the stinging agonizing tears in her eyes, "The herb that I need is just going to ease the effects in my body, whilst the jutsu will seal it from triggering anything that was layered in with the chakra." (y/n) explained. Kakashi could tell she was trying her hardest to keep her face straight, pushing back the pain and hurting inside. "The thing is–"

"What?" Kakashi asked the pained woman, his tone soft and soothing, "I can help if I know what's going on."

Warily, (y/n) agreed to speak on, "The place where the mission was stationed at was just underground of the nuke-nin outpost I was from. And the guy who poisonous me was one of the other kids' experiments were done on, along with me. He was a few years older than us, and his name was Hiroto Myoga. His parents were in owed debt to the rogues, they were forced into being test subjects until they died. Which left Hiroto in the nuke-nin's hands." She rubbed the temple of her head pushing away the images that sent a shiver down her spine, "Something similar had happened in the case of my parents and me. But unlike me, when the ANBU did the raid, Hiroto was snuck away just in time."

Kakashi's heart sank as he heard what she was telling him. (y/n) had never known much about her past, the damned curse seal had caused. “Since he was older than most of the other kids there, the nuke-nin's of the outpost decided that they needed to trust their information. It was all precautionary, just in case they were taken down. And that's just what happened. Hiroto was the one ordered to put memory restriction curse seals on us, the kids, before he fled to be underground, where the actual harm was being done. That meant that all this time Hiroto had been working in those old plans." (y/n) closed her eyes tightly, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

With a subtle groan, Kakashi supported (y/n) up from the chair and rested her in her cot. "Don't stress yourself, (y/n). You can just tell me later; it's getting late anyway." He told her. "It's fine, Hatake. Letting this out helps me feel better." She reassured him.

"The ANBU caught wind of suspicious activity in that area and decided to send out a squad to go check out. I overheard Danzō arguing with Lord Hokage about it, and got interested. It was really dumb, but I just wanted to go to learn more about what happened in my past. I learned, but that can with lots of twists and turns. 10 years of going undercover..." (y/n)'s (e/c) eyes met Kakashi's single uncovered black one, "It wasn't long before Hiroto became suspicious of us, slowly narrowing the group down till it was just me." (y/n) took a deep breath and continued, "After Hiroto killed himself in our final fight, my curse seal was lifted. That's how I suddenly was able to remember all of the past. All of it."

A pit formed in Kakashi's stomach as he watched (y/n) cry in silence. He wanted to help her feel better, he really did. But he was afraid that he'd make things worse; dealing with feelings just wasn't his thing. "I'm here for you, (l/n). We've been through so much together, you've helped me through it all," Kakashi tried to reassure her, "It's my turn to look after you. Please, just don't cry." He reached out his hand to brush a tear-off of her streaked cheeks.

“Are you okay with me staying here for the night?" Kakashi asked (y/n) as they sat at the bay window, looking down upon the empty moonlit streets of Konoha. The soft light cast down by the moon seemed to make everything look beautiful, serene, and at peace. "(l/n)?" He asked again, turning to look back at her. A gentle smile played on Kakashi's lips as he saw that she'd fallen asleep. (y/n) had been through so much throughout the day, she not only deserved to rest for a long time but also needed to. "Good night, (y/n)..." he carefully lifted the sleeping beauty and placed her on the cot. Sitting back at the bay seat, Kakashi took in a deep breath. "I love you."

She's finally back.

She's finally home.