#and say that she /will/ stay. come hell and high water

[renthony]

Goddammit I have things to say about Arcane again. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I have never been this obsessed with a show that pissed me off so much. Fucking hell.

Longish critical post under the cut.

Husband and I are re-watching Arcane from the beginning, specifically so we can do some critical analysis and frame-by-framing. This watch, I'm really fixated on the way Vi is reintroduced after being in prison, because it does not make any goddamn sense.

If Stillwater is primarily full of Zaunites working for Silco, and Vi is constantly fighting with them, but she's also constantly being tortured by the enforcers...who the fuck is watching her back? How is she alive? Yes, she has a solitary cell, but we see her let out into the common areas. If she has that many enemies in Stillwater, how has she survived this long? The answer seems to be "plot armor," and that's...not a good answer.

If she has literally zero allies in prison, and she is hated by both the inmates and the guards, she'd be dead. Even if we're supposed to assume Marcus gave the order to the other enforcers to keep her alive, we know for a fact that the enforcers are still abusing her, so they clearly don't actually give a shit, nor do they stop the other inmates from fighting with her.

Like, I don't care how much of a badass she is, she has to sleep sometimes. She has to eat sometimes. She has to take a piss sometimes. She is clearly in fighting-fit shape, she is clearly healthy enough to immediately start parkouring all over Zaun after release, so who's letting her have access to workout equipment? You don't get or stay that jacked just by punching a wall. How's she getting enough calories? You don't get the good food if everyone in the prison hates you. For all that she makes a joke to Caitlyn about prison food tasting awful, she is clearly not malnourished.

And who the fuck did her tattoos????? They're extensive and fairly high-quality. If someone else did them, who was she on good enough terms with? If she did it herself, who liked her enough to smuggle, sell, or share supplies with her?

It really wouldn't bug me as much if it weren't for the fact that the narrative seems to want me to see her as a forgotten loner who has nobody in her corner until Caitlyn. Fundamentally, that cannot be true, or Vi would have been murdered and dumped in the water long before Cait showed up.

Also, if Silco has that many people in Stillwater, how does he not have his fingers in the prison smuggling operation that clearly exists? I don't buy it. If he owns Marcus' ass that hard, and he's already involved in smuggling, he'd have spies and smugglers in Stillwater, too. I do not believe that Silco has the power and the confidence to casually threaten Marcus by showing up in the man's personal home, but not enough power and confidence to get spies into a prison that's already full of his own allies/underlings.

There are definitely possible answers to some of these questions, and I certainly have my own headcanons, but it really doesn't feel like the writers' room spent a lot of time thinking about the actual social issues and politics that they invoked for aesthetic.

Usually this is where I'd say, "I wonder what the S&P notes looked like, and I wonder how many episodes they got screwed out of, because so much of this could have been fixed with a little more runtime." Sadly, based on the shit that keeps coming out of Christian Linke's mouth, I don't think we can blame the corporate office for this one. If Christian Linke is telling the truth and the show got all the episodes they wanted, my ever-present "TV writers keep getting screwed, so I have to analyze the finished product with the knowledge that the creators likely got fucked over" goodwill completely vanishes.

The problem really seems to be that the show was written by centrists with a fundamentally flawed understanding of class struggle, drug use, the drug trade, and the prison-industrial complex. It's not surprising, but it does disappoint me.

And while I'm thinking about it, why is Shimmer somehow both drinkable and injectable in seemingly the same form???? Drugs can absolutely come in different forms, but we see people drink the exact same type of shimmer that other people inject. You don't drink injectable drugs. Fuck's sake, this is Skooma levels of "the writers just threw every scary-sounding drug in a blender to make Scary Super Drugs without knowing anything about how real-world drugs work."

Also, if the Firelights' big thing is that they hate Silco Because Of Drugs, I really wanna know how the hell Ekko found that many straight-edge anarchists willing to build a secret compound together. Are they against all drugs, or just shimmer? Where's their line?

[seellove]

Counterfeit Shrines // sukuna x female reader

Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Playing with Fire is Such a Cliche // (6.0k words) // 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 4 | << Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

You're a late bloomer when it comes to cursed energy, entering Tokyo Jujutsu High partway through the 4th year on the support student track. Because of this, you get paired with the only combat track sorcerer without a partner for obvious reasons, Ryomen Sukuna. He's had a tragic upbringing as a human that is part curse with dark expectations for how to live his life. However, after meeting you, he slowly starts to see the possibility of a different path with someone he might love.

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are Jujutsu Sorcerers in a JJK AU, explicit smut, violence/blood/injury, dubious consent, dubious morality, drug and alcohol use, falling in love, angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending

You were starting to fall into a routine in your new home, finally feeling settled and comfortable with your new life. You and Shoko would go to the cafeteria every morning, then walk to your classes together. Some days Geto and Gojo would join you both, but a lot of times they were away on missions. 

You and Sukuna would meet up to work on your project some nights along with homework from your shared classes. He was often away as well, so you’d make the most of the time together to divide the workload. This caused his harem of fan girls to give you angry looks at times, in their eyes you were taking him away from their time with him. As if you had any say in this, you two had been partnered up against both your wills.

You had been cleared to go back to your combat sessions a few weeks after your hospital stay. That afternoon you and Shoko make your way to the training grounds after lunch. She is complaining about the chemistry test you had just gotten grades back on. 

“I don’t even know why we need to learn this shit if we are just going to be sorcerers,” she groans. 

“If you want to be a jujutsu doctor, chemistry is important to know!” you tease back. She pushes you jokingly in response. You both take a seat in the bleachers, continuing to bicker as friends do.

“Alright partner, I'm ready when you are,” you jump as you hear Sukunas deep voice behind you. Where the hell did he come from?

“What’s up stranger,” you respond. To his annoyance you’d been referring to him as that since the day you started the history project. You took great pride in annoying him, pissing him off greatly when you made fun of him instead of matching his angry energy. Seeing him get all butthurt was entertaining and worth it though.

“She just got back to normal, don’t go being a hard ass again,” Shoko growls at him. 

“Relax, she’ll be fine,” he waves her off. He leaps off the bleachers and stands beside you as you finish lacing your shoes. He leads the way to the far corner of the training grounds near the forest. 

“Can you hold my water bottle for a second, I need to put my hair up,” you say as you walk together. He puts his hand out to take the bottle while you pull your hair up into a messy bun. 

“How’d you do on the test?” he breaks the silence.

“Got an 88, I made some silly mistakes.”

“Ha I beat you this time, 97.”

Your competitive side causes you to respond with an annoyed huff, but deep down you aren’t mad. He’s smart so if there’s someone you’d rather lose to, it was him. All the more reason to do better next time. 

“Gonna have to try harder next time sweetheart,” he teases you, throwing your bottle back at you unexpectedly. 

“Excuse me? Sweetheart?” your voice rises as you throw the bottle back at him, making him leap to the side to avoid the projectile. 

“I said what I said,” he turns around and walks backwards, tauntingly looking at you with his hands behind his head. “Also I’m not getting that,” he gestures towards the bottle now laying out in the field.

“God you are so annoying,” you stomp away to retrieve your water.

“You flatter me so much, thinking I’m a god now,” he chuckles.

You look at him and shake your head, but you can’t help emitting a giggle of your own, trying to fight back a smile. You make your way back over to him. 

“Let’s sit,” he states as he lowers himself to the grass, patting the ground next to him. You follow suit, adjusting yourself to face him. “What kind of training have you had with cursed energy?”

You take a moment to think. You hadn’t been able to detect or manipulate it until the spring of this year. You realized it when you were walking home from school one day and saw a terrifying creature that it seemed no one else could see. You had freaked out, tearing up a sidewalk in the process of it all. After telling your dad, he showed you how to sense it in the earth and push it through voids, but you didn’t truly know how it all worked. 

You explain this to Sukuna who has a very serious expression on his face, absorbing every word of your explanation. 

He shifts to rest his elbow on his knee, his face leaning into his palm. “Hmm, I see. Well the first goal I have for you is to incorporate your cursed energy into your martial arts. But to do that, you need to master distributing it throughout your body.”

He holds up his hand in front of you. “Put your hand against mine.”

You press your palm against his, noticing the huge size difference between you and him. His fingers could fold over yours if he wanted. Suddenly you sense heat in his palm and feel it coursing through his fingers, almost like water being sucked through a tube. 

“You’re controlling this all on your own?” you ask in awe. 

“Yes, I'm taking the source of my energy in my chest and directing it to my hand. Think of it as a pump, pushing the energy through the voids in your body to where you need it. You can use this to enhance physical moves like punching and kicking. It’s the simplest way of using cursed energy for combat,” he explains. 

“First I want you to focus on your chest, I want you to become aware of the source, actually recognize how it feels when it flows through your chest and surrounding areas. I can sense where it is in your body, so I’ll help you feel it out.”

You close your eyes and focus your senses inward, trying to feel a glimpse of the heat you felt in Sukuna’s hand. You think you feel it, it reminds you of being in the shower, feeling water run over your skin except it feels like it's flowing under your skin. 

“I think I feel it, it feels like water flowing inside of me, like a whirlpool in my chest.” 

“Point to me where you feel it.”

You point to a spot just below your breast between your ribs.

“Yep, I can sense it there. Now try to direct it to your stomach area, it should be a combination of pushing it from your chest while pulling it to your stomach. Think of it like a combination of a pump and a siphon.”

You struggle to do this, feeling like the energy is just ricocheting off your ribs and surrounding area. It gives you a feeling like heartburn.

Sukuna can sense your energy beating up your innards. “Stop for a moment, let me demonstrate,” he says shortly as he suddenly pulls his shirt off and tosses it on the ground. 

You have been trying to take this seriously, but you are a woman who appreciates a sculpted man at the end of the day, and boy was there one right in front of you. Tattoos emerge from his shoulders and wind over his chest down to his waist, disappearing to what lies below. His muscular chest and rippling abs accentuate them even more, the sharp ridges making your core clench for a second. Chiseled V lines disappear into the waistband of his pants which are dangerously low on his hips. 

Oh lord, he’s fucking hot, because of course he is. You can’t deny this as you feel your body flush and swallow deeply, trying to ground yourself. 

“As much as I appreciate you eye fucking me right now, I do actually want to finish this lesson,” he laughs smugly. He abruptly reaches for your hand, yanking it towards him and placing it on his chest. You feel light headed, forgetting to breathe momentarily, the world almost dimming around your peripheral.

Pull yourself together dammit. How could you expect to be a decent sorcerer if you are so easily weak in the knees. 

You feel his rock hard body below your hand, but you also can sense the swirling heat inside. It feels very controlled though, unlike the chaos you felt within you. Your heart is pounding, can he hear it? Can he feel it through your hand? 

“You feel that right?” he snaps you back to reality.

“Ye-yes, I can feel it flowing, counterclockwise?”

“Correct,” he moves your hand to his upper abs now. You are convinced you are going to just die right here, you are going to stop breathing altogether and just forget to replenish the oxygen. You can feel the energy flowing down his body towards his stomach, sensing a sucking motion pulling the energy down while his chest pulses, pushing the heat south.

“Oh I do feel it,” you murmur, concentrating on the feeling. “I think I can do that-“

“What the fuck are you all doing??” a shrieking voice jolts you out of your trance, startling you. “Get your hands off of him you whore.”

You turn to the side and see a girl in all black and black hair storming towards you both. Her face is contorted in anger, the rage emanating off her in waves. 

“It’s not what it looks like! I was trying to feel his energy, wait, are you his girlfriend? I’m so sorry!” you stumble over your words, putting your hands at your side and jumping away from Sukuna. 

“No Yorozu is absolutely not my girlfriend, just a girl I fuck,” his voice dripping in anger and disgust as he side eyes her. 

“Don’t you dare!” Yorozu yells back, “we are exclusive, you said so the other night.”

“Psh, and you believed that?” he responds in a mocking tone. 

“What is this about being exclusive with her,” another voice yells from behind you. It’s Kiko, the blond you recognized from your first day. “And why did you have your filthy hands all over him?” She points at you, her eyes shooting daggers. 

What the actual fuck, you think to yourself. You did not want to get in the middle of whatever this is. 

“I’m just trying to learn about cursed energy, I don’t want anything to do with Sukuna in that way,” you shout at them, trying to make yourself heard.

“Please, I’m already aware you are nothing to him,” Kiko harshly says to you. “Yorozu, quit being a homewrecker.”

“I’ll be over here practicing,” you look at Sukuna, not bothering to wait for a response, your main goal to get the fuck away from this love triangle. You move closer to the trees, intent on practicing channeling the cursed energy through your body, using your hands as a guide similar to what you and Sukuna were doing. 

You can’t help but overhear Yorozu, Kiko, and Sukuna arguing. Well it was more so the girls shouting over each other with Sukuna just standing there with his hands in his pockets. What was so special about him that had these girls acting insane over him, especially when he seemed to treat them poorly. Must have out of this world dick game, you laugh to yourself. 

You feel yourself succeeding with your practice when you see Sukuna reappear, now alone, and no longer shirtless. He doesn’t say anything, just observes you. You can now get cursed energy to flow controlled into your hands and to your waistline. You are tired though, not realizing how it takes a toll on you both mentally and physically. 

“Why don’t you take a break,” he finally breaks the silence. You nod and join him as he sits on the ground, obviously moody now. He fidgets with the grass, twisting his finger around and ripping blades out of the ground. 

“You sure do have a way with the ladies,” you tease him. “One girlfriend is hard enough, let alone two.” 

He smirks, still staring at the grass, “I’m not committed to anyone, I make that very clear to them and anyone I sleep with.” 

Your mind wanders, imagining him sleeping with multiple girls, surely there are more than just these two. “Do you like one more than the other?”

“I don’t like either of them. They fulfill a need and that’s it. If they disappeared tomorrow I wouldn’t care,” he bluntly responds. 

You are taken aback by the harshness. You know that’s just how some guys are, but it’s different hearing it said out loud. “Do you think you’ll ever find someone you would want to be committed to?” 

“I guess eventually, I have never really considered it. I have a certain standard of what I’d want in a partner, sex is just one facet of that, important but not that high on the list.”

“Mhmm,” you hum in response. “Well what I was going to say was that I am not trying to insert myself into…whatever that all was, I value you as a friend and mentor, and am not trying to negatively affect your love life. But I guess it's not very much reciprocated by you,” you chuckle.

He perks up at your words, “Oh, have I graduated from being a stranger?” 

You laugh as you return his gaze. “Yeah I think you have, I’ll get you a cap and gown. Might not fit on your massive ass head though.”

He crinkles his brow in annoyance at your comment as he stands up, holding out his hands as a signal to pull you up. 

“Food?”

“Yes please!” 

***

You and Sukuna have never done anything that isn’t school related alone together. You recognized and valued his intelligence, so you preferred to do school work together. While chatting happened, it was usually short lived to focus on the task at hand whether it be studying, tag teaming homework assignments, or working on your group projects. Most interactions consisted of him making rude jabs at you while you would mock and tease him much to his annoyance. 

There was a sense of comfort though when you were around him. Like you knew what you were getting and you didn’t need to worry about his intentions. His bluntness was refreshing in a way compared to your previous school where someone could get along with you one day but hate you the next, for no apparent reason.

Eating together however was a new activity. It didn’t constrain the conversation, there were no math problems or cursed energy manipulation to hide behind. You two would either converse, or sit in silence. How and what you talked about would be up to you and Sukuna. 

You weren’t embarrassed to be seen with him, it was no secret to your friends that you two would work together, and he was your combat partner after all. Shoko would egg you on about becoming his next fangirl, but you would shut it down by saying you were friends with a common goal, and nothing more. 

Sukuna and you drop your bags off in your rooms and make your way to the dining hall. You see him texting on his phone, a twinge of annoyance on his face. That’s nothing out of the ordinary for him though. His face might permanently be that way with the consistent scowl he seemed to display.

He speeds through the line, already knowing what he wants to eat while you linger longer to scope out the options. 

“I’m going sit, don’t take too long,” he says gruffly as you wave him off. You decide on a chicken salad with a side of fish and rice. You definitely eat a lot more here compared to the past, as using cursed energy wrecks your body. Scanning the room, you spot the top of his pink head and neck tattoos peeking out of his shirt.

Placing your tray across from him, you go to grab a drink. You love the selection of fruit sodas and decide on a peach flavor today. 

Sukuna makes a face as you place the drink down, “you would drink that.”

“What does that even mean Sukuna? Hating on random drinks now?”

“Yeah I am, that shit is trash.”

You take a big gulp and let out a dramatic sigh, “well good thing you don’t have to drink it. Just drink your milk like a child.”

“Milk is not childish, brat. It builds strong bones. Maybe you should drink more of it considering you broke your hand on my face.” 

“Tch,” you roll your eyes, not giving a response. 

“Do you have any siblings?” Sukuna abruptly changes the topic.

“Yes, I have a younger brother and sister. They are elementary school age. What about you?” 

“I have a younger brother, different dads though.”

Swallowing a spoonful of rice, his words perk your interest. 

“Oh what’s your brother like?” you question, being nosey now. It's the first you’ve ever heard about his personal life.

He points across the room to a table with a black haired boy and brunette girl with a bob. “Those are his friends, not sure where he is now, but he has pink hair like me. He’s a first year student.” 

“Oh cool, that must be nice for him to have an older sibling here.”

“Psh he’s too soft. Needs to toughen up if he wants to be a good sorcerer.”

“You can be a good sorcerer and not be an asshole,” you retort. 

“It’s better to not have feelings and attachments though. Makes it easier to focus on your goals without stupid distractions.” 

“So what are your goals?”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Well I do have goals that are personal to myself, but what I can share is that I want to be the strongest, a master in understanding and wielding cursed energy.” 

Your eyes widen a little. “Goals personal to you huh? What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t need to know the details,” he snaps back. 

His vague answers leave you feeling a little uneasy, but you decide to let it go for now. “Are your parents sorcerers?”

“My dad is. He taught me everything and has been training me since before I can remember.” 

“Sounds like a tough childhood. I spent most of my time just playing sports, exploring the neighborhood with friends, typical kid things.”

“Sounds incredibly lame,” He says dryly, looking bored. 

“What do you do for fun that doesn’t revolve around jujutsu?”

“Well I do like video games, reading, watching food shows and trying new foods, fucking-“

You practically spit out your drink at his vulgar answer. He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his eye, “what’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

You feel your face flush. You’ve never done more than kissing and feeling up with your ex, and you would not be able to handle having a conversation like this with Sukuna of all people. 

“I think it’s fine, just not something I expect to hear in a conversation in the cafeteria. Are you just trying to get a rise out of me?”  

“Maybe, it seems to be working. So who are you fucking around here?” He challenges you, placing one elbow on the table and resting his head on it. He seems very engaged in the conversation now, reveling in your discomfort.

Shit what should you say? You know next to nothing about sex, so he’ll know if you’re lying, but you don’t want to give him a reason to ridicule you. Fuck it, you’ll be honest, if he makes fun of you for it, that’s his problem. You are a grown woman and confident in your choices after all. 

“Nobody, doesn’t really align with my goals right now,” you meet his gaze, awaiting his response. 

His grin cocks to one side, nodding his head slightly, “hmph, interesting.” 

You are shocked he doesn’t push the issue, “that’s all you have to say? I was expecting something more on brand from you.”

“I respect your convictions, even if they might not be for me,” he shrugs. 

“Well thanks for not roasting me for once,” you laugh. 

“I’m sure I’ll make up for it later,” he says with a mischievous look. 

You both finish eating and linger for a little longer, engaged in a heated debate on the best super smash bros character.

“Well we will just have to put it to the test and play with each other sometime,” you laugh. 

“Sometimes there are tournaments in the dorm common area,” he says.

“Oh so you want to lose in front of a crowd?”

“Please brat, being delusional isn’t a good look.”

***

A week passes and you can now consistently control your cursed energy throughout your body.

“Let’s try some sparring now,” Sukuna announces to you as you sit on the ground. He’s looming over you, his massive figure shielding you from the sun.

“Okay don’t send me to the hospital again,” you retort, only half kidding.

“I’m not going to do that, can you all just let it go?” he snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“No I can’t, you literally broke my ribs and punctured my lung.” 

“Quit whining brat, you got over it.”

You stand up now and look at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. “Ok so how are we doing this?”

“You come at me like you while channeling cursed energy into your blows. I’ll block and dodge only. Oh, and come at me with the intent to kill, it’s the only way you’ll stand a chance,” he grins as he bends his legs, standing on the balls of his feet.

“So confident aren’t you,” you roll your eyes at him. You start to walk away from him, creating some distance. 

“Yeah I am, you have no idea what I’m capable of,” he says coldly. You briefly wonder what he means by that, feeling a little intimidated, but you quickly come back to the task at hand. All you can do is trust him to not hurt you again.

You channel cursed energy into your feet, propelling yourself at him at increased speed. You wind up, powering up your fist, and swing at Sukuna. He lifts his hand up, letting his palm absorb the impact. He makes a face, brows lifting in surprise. 

“Damn that was a nice one, more like that,” he looks on excitedly, lips curling into a smile. 

“Can I use my technique,” you ask as you attempt to swing a kick at his lower legs, your hands planted on the ground as you lash out towards him. He jumps over the move and you quickly deliver a blow to his stomach, catching him off guard. 

“Yes, I said to come at me to kill.” He rubs his stomach after the impact from your hit. You felt him move cursed energy to that spot just before impact to block the hit.

You channel energy to your hands and quickly push it through the earth, trying to grab onto his feet. You notice it feels a lot easier now, as it’s similar to pushing the energy through your body. 

You quickly continue sending cursed energy through the earth as you sprint at him again. You both spar with hand to hand combat, Sukuna dodging and blocking all hits, not trying to land any on you. You pull the cursed energy towards you that you sent into the earth and lock onto his feet, immobilizing him enough to land a kick on his shins, releasing him from your technique.

He hisses through his teeth at the impact, not able to hide that you did cause a bit of pain. You continue your sparring until you wave the white flag, flopping onto the ground in exhaustion and a slight headache from all the cursed energy manipulation. 

Sukuna stands over you, not even breaking a sweat. He drops your water bottle next to you and sits down at your side.

“I think you are ready for missions,” he announces to you. 

“Oh I forgot about that,” you stare wide eyed as fear settles over you. 

“Yeah, you have to apply what you learn brat. Combat students are supposed to take support students on 2 to 3 missions a month. They are for very low grade curses though, nothing to worry about. Plus I’ll be there.”

“What grade are you?” you question him. You hadn’t actually seen him try very hard yet.

“Grade 1. I’m the strongest, brat, believe me. I won’t let anything happen to you,” you see his eyes soften and you know he means it. You relax a little. 

“When do we go?”

“Probably tomorrow,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Tomorrow??” you exclaim, “that’s like no notice.”

He chuckles and crosses his arms, “Do you think curses just wait to appear when it’s convenient for you?”

“Shut up no that’s not what I meant,” you huff as he looks at you, amusement in his eyes. 

He begins walking away from you back towards the campus buildings. You rush to catch up, falling into step with him. 

“What do I need to do to prepare for the mission?” 

“You’ll need an overnight bag for sure. Other than that you don’t really need to do anything. We will get driven to the site and we just get out the car and exorcise the curses. Then the driver will take us to a hotel or inn for the night, then we come back the following day.” 

“Do we all get separate rooms,” you blush at the idea of sharing a room with Sukuna.

He snickers at your question, “yes we will be in separate rooms. Nothing is stopping you from letting me in yours and vice versa.”

“Ha ha good to know,” you laugh fakely. That doesn’t last long though as you find yourself face first in the dirt after Sukuna trips you.

“Watch your step brat,” he has his hand over his mouth trying to suppress his laughter. 

“You are insufferable,” you yell at him. Thankfully you two are the last ones out here, so no embarrassing moments for the whole class to see. 

He keeps walking and stops to wait for you against a tall decorative brick wall that lines the walkway back to the campus. Dusk is rapidly approaching with the days getting shorter. Crickets had begun to chirp, signaling the sun going down. 

You catch up to him again and find him leaning against the wall. You stop in front of him, waiting for him to keep walking. Instead he licks his thumb and presses it against your cheek. “Got some dirt on you here,” he teases.

“Hmm wonder how that happened,” you try to wince away, but his fingers squeeze your cheek, not letting you move.

He rubs small circles on your cheek. They become gentler and you feel the backs of his fingers graze along your jawbone, trailing along your skin until they stop to rest on the back of your neck. Your breath hitches and goosebumps run down your arms at his touch. Your eyes dart around nervously as his fingertips push down firmly on the back of your neck, beckoning you closer to him. You can smell his cologne mixed with musk, a result of you both sparring for hours. He moves his hands to rest on your hips, guiding you so now your back is now against the wall, the sharp points of the brick digging into your spine. 

Your heart is racing now, feeling like it is going to spring out of your chest. Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he looks ethereal in the dim light. The glow of his eyes give him the look of a predator looking down at his prey. 

Sukuna leans one hand against the wall above your shoulder as he lowers himself to your face. His eyes are half lidded and their usual blazing red begins to darken. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pulling your body flush with his.

His face hovers in front of yours and it feels like an eternity. You want to close the gap between you, but you hesitate as nervousness sets in. Your eyes look down at his lips, then back up to his gaze. They are gorgeous, morphing into a deep red like hot coals as the tension intensifies.

Fuck it, you finally decide. You loosen your jaw and close the distance between you, your lips landing on his. Your mouth doesn’t move at first, body practically in shock at what you just did. The world is suspended temporarily as you dissociate from yourself, a dizzy feeling starting to consume you. You slowly start to regain feeling in your body, noticing his soft lips, the harsh grip on your hips, and the soft brush of his nose against yours. His lips are softer than you expected given his rough demeanor.

Sukuna’s tongue runs along your bottom lip, which causes you to part yours in surprise. He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, meeting yours as he groans into your mouth. Your noses brush against each other clumsily as you figure out each other's rhythm. 

He nibbles at your lip, coaxing your tongue back into his mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair. He tilts his head, allowing you to probe deeper into his mouth, exploring the inside of his cheek as he rolls his tongue against yours. He hums, lowering his hands to grip your ass, pushing his body against yours until you are pinned against the wall. You can hear nothing but the symphony of crickets in the twilight and the wet sounds of his lips on yours. 

You break the kiss, desperate for air, making a popping sound as your lips disconnect from his. Your breaths come in gasps as you try to steady your breathing again, coming back down from your high. He presses his forehead against yours, eagerly awaiting your lips on his again. 

“You kissed me,” you say in a bewildered voice. You almost can’t believe it. It’s something you truly never thought would happen, even though you have fantasized about doing worse with him before. 

He smirks at you with lidded eyes, his voice a low rumble, “technically you kissed me brat.”

“Whatever.” You attack his lips again with more force than the last. He matches your energy with a hunger you weren’t expecting, forcing himself back into your mouth, finding the insides of your teeth and sucking your tongue, eliciting a sharp moan from you. You push your hands beneath his shirt, hands running along his abs. The ridges and dips of his muscles are apparent, squeezing them with your nails as you grasp onto him, attempting to ground yourself. 

You can feel him hard against you, throbbing with your every moan he captures in his mouth, clearly enjoying this just as much as you. He pulls back this time, staring deeply into your eyes. His crimson gaze is intense with hunger, almost like he could devour you on the spot. You blush profusely, and emit an awkward giggle.  

“Did you like that?” Sukuna’s husky voice asks as he tries to not so discreetly adjust himself in his pants. 

“Mhmm yes, you’re a good kisser,” you stumble over your words. Why would you say he’s a good kisser? You cringe realizing your brain short circuited in its recovery from the intimate moment.

“Hmph,” he hums, feeling smug. You both tidy up your clothes and hair, attempting to hide the evidence of the heated make out session you had just partaken in. 

He leads you back to the dorms in silence, both of you not daring to speak as he walks you to your room. “I’ll text you the info for the mission either tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Ok sounds good,” you unlock your door and push it open. You look back at him, your eyes locking with his longing gaze, “good night Sukuna.”

He swallows hard as he stares back at you, his mouth forming a tight line, “night.”

You close the door as he walks away, the mirror on the wall revealing a massive grin plastered on your face. He’s an asshole. A hot asshole who wanted his tongue down your throat. Probably a one time thing, but then again, playing with fire is such a cliche when you’re willing to get burned.

Sukuna POV

I make a beeline back to my room, trying to hide the bulge in my pants I’d failed miserably at subduing. My pants are so damn uncomfortable, constricting my cock which is desperate to be freed. I fumble for my keys and finally unlock the door, slamming it behind me. I know if I don’t take care of this I won’t be able to focus the rest of the evening.

Entering the bathroom, I turn the shower on to warm up the water and strip my clothes off. My hand immediately palms the thick head of my cock and as I groan with relief at the friction I was so desperate for. What am I even doing? So gone off of a kiss and nothing more.

It was so hard to stop with you earlier, I wanted to take you against that wall and fuck you senseless. I step into the shower and lean against the wall, water running in rivulets over the contours of my muscles. Stroking my full length now, my mind goes back to you and that wall. Pre cum spills from my thick tip, giving me extra slick to pump my shaft. The image of holding you up, legs locked around my waist as I drill into you, stuttering my name between moans has my dick throbbing as I imagine burying it inside you again and again.

My grip tightens around my shaft, pumping faster now as you shatter beneath me, your walls gripping me so snugly. I lean my head back against the shower wall, my hand sliding up and down my hardened length with urgency as I feel the orgasm looming. The final image of you crying my name as I fuck you through your climax pushes me over the edge. I groan loudly, eyes shut tight and body tensing up as spurts of cum begin to coat the wall of the shower. 

As the waves of pleasure finally cease, I open my eyes and sink to the floor, not caring that the water is now pelting me in the face. Allowing myself a few minutes to come back to earth, I can’t recall the last time I came so hard from jerking off. Finally I stand back up and quickly finish washing my hair and body. 

I stride across the room to my computer to check mission assignments. As a grade 1 sorcerer, I check the website multiple times a day to see if anything perks my interest. This time though, I filter by low grade assignments for your first mission. 

An abandoned home in a neighborhood 3 hours away is reportedly haunted according to kids breaking in. Grade 4 max. Sounds perfect for you. I mark it taken and type both of our names in, noting it as support training. Looks like the driver will pick up at 9 AM tomorrow. 

Me: we leave at 9AM tomorrow. Plan to eat before we leave. I’ll meet you out front beforehand.

You: Okay sounds good. Anything specific to pack?

Me: a change of clothes for afterwards is a good idea, fighting curses can be messy. 

You: got it. Well cya tomorrow, have a good night! 

I close the computer and flop onto the bed, a twinge of excitement coming over me. I honestly can’t remember the last time I kissed someone and that was it, but for some reason I can’t get it out of my head now. I get back up and fish out the half open bottle of whiskey from under my bed. Hopefully that can help calm me down and get some rest.

<< Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

Masterlist

[autumnfangirler]

ill be the first to admit that i dont interact with the gaa fandom as much as i should, so id be very glad to be wrong about this, but from my (admittedly very limited) observations in the fandom susatos talked about mostly in the context of a) other male characters(naruhodo, kazuma, mikotoba, holmes) or b) shipping. which is fine, it makes sense! shes not very attention grabbing in the game, and while she does have her goofy moments, shes not nearly as silly as the rest of the cast. shes more of a straightman than anything else. but shes such a good character and i really want to see more people talk about her so fuck it, were making the overdue susato rant ourselves gdi

major spoilers for great ace attorney under the cut and in the tags!

i think a lot of people see susato as a #girlboss, which is true and undisputed, but ive never seen people dig into why. personally what sticks out to me is how determined she is. its overshadowed by kazuma, but she Clearly learned a few things. she was willing to travel halfway across the world to work as a judicial assistant, and in kazumas death she helped naruhodo become a lawyer in his stead. she broke the law to help naruhodo win ginas case, a decision that tore her up so much she nearly resolved to quit. and of course she won a fucking courtcase at the age of 16 while succesfully pretending to be a man. when she has a goal in mind, shes seeing it through. shes consistently pulled naruhodo out of (rightful) uncertainty and hesitation with this mindset. she followed kazuma, and then naruhodo, to the ends of the earth because she truly believed it was the right thing to do. shes competent in her work, and shes firm without being unkind.

thats another thing about susato. shes one of the most emotionally mature characters in the games (games filled with adults– iris is probably one of the few characters who rival her in that respect). shes emotional about the things shes passionate about, but shes never overwhelmed by it. the only scene i can think of where emotions really did overtake her was at the end of the first game, where she nearly threw her judicial book into the sea. which is,,, still relatively reasonable? she broke the law and had to leave britain to go back to japan. she couldnt practice as a judicial assistant anymore, and nobody back home had a need for her skills as a judicial assistant. why would she need it anymore? in every other instance, shes polite, calm, and most importantly, the heart of the whole cast.

because while shes a great character on her own, her main role in the story is always in servitude to others– whether that be as holmes number one fan, iris' big sister, or naruhodos ever-reliable judicial assistant. we never get the sense as to why until the 4th chapter of the last game, where her backstory is finally revealed. with it, a lot of who she is is recontextualized. she never had a mother and her father left her before she could have any real memories of him. shes headstrong and driven because there was no direction for her. shes compassionate and polite because her only role model for her formative years was her grandmother. shes emotionally mature because she learned what loss was at a young age and how to live with it alone. and all of that translates to a young girl with a fire to help others in whatever way she can.

shes just,,,, shes such a good character man. i love her.

[erinyesofvengeance]

HIGH ON ANESTHESIA

pairing: dick grayson x reader

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, drabble, hospitalized reader, one-sided pining (not for long), not proofread!!

summary: after getting your wisdom teeth removed, your best friend and unrequited love (love which you've kept a secret for 7 years) dick grayson comes to visit you in your hospital bed. unfortunately, you seem to still be under the effects of anesthesia, which causes you to be painfully truthful.

A/N: inspired by that one brownie scene in the perks of being a wallflower (bawled my eyes out in the end)

"The surgery went well. There were some unexpected complications, such as the wisdom teeth being in a rather unusual location, but your daughter will be alright. She'll be able to go home by the end of the day."

Your mother breaths a sigh of relief, seemingly relieved by this good news. Honestly, you couldn't blame her for being nervous and worried sick about you, given the events of the last surgery you had. Gosh, you really have had a lot of surgeries. Your mother turns to you, gently caressing your face.

"You okay, (name)? Do you want anything to drink?" she asks.

You sigh. Your head is pounding and your neck is craned at an uncomfortable position. No matter how much you move it, or adjust it, it stays the same. Sore, bothersome, and annoying. You nod in response to her question.

"I want water," you whine. "But not the lukewarm kind. Cause you always get the lukewarm kind."

Your mother sighs.

"Lukewarm is better for you. Cold water cools down your body temperature too fast. It's unnatural."

"Mama, that's bullshit. It's damn water," you groan. Your mother raises an eyebrow at your comment.

"Whoops." You smile cheekily.

"Fine. I'll get you some cold water," she declares. You clap your hands in excitement.

When she leaves, you can hear her footsteps becoming softer the farther away she moves. Another pair of footsteps makes it's way to your hospital bed. The footsteps stop, and your curtain opens.

You're met with a pair of striking blue eyes, and a head of perfectly styled yet still natural-looking blue hair. Dick Grayson, with his perfectly shaped face and irritatingly good looks had a worried look on his face. For you. That look of worry quickly faded once he saw you.

"I take it the surgery went well?" he asks.

You nod.

"That's good." He exhales a long held breath. "Considering the last time you had surgery, I had though..." he trails off when he feels your gaze burning holes into his face.

You look up at him dreamily. You could've sworn that there were sparkles in the air and hearts in the sky.

"Dick... you have such pretty blue eyes," you sigh.

He raises an eyebrow. "Say what now?"

"The kind of pretty that deserves to make a big deal about itself though, you know what I mean?"

He laughs softly, and the sound goes right up to your head.

"What else about me do you think is pretty?" he teases.

"Hmm... your hair, and your smile. Your voice. Your biceps are kind of nice too. I want you to put me in a headlock and choke me with them." you slur. "And obviously those glutes."

"Wow. Didn't know you acknowledged my smoking hotness." Dick, obviously, is quite amused right now. You've always been the one seemingly immune to his charms, despite his numerous attempts to hit on you and get your number. He knew by now for the past 7 years that he liked you; hell, maybe even loved you. Scratch that; definitely loved you. But you either ignored or was painfully oblivious to his infatuation with you.

"I've been acknowledging it for 7 years," you grumble.

"So what, you sayin' you like me or something?"

You nod. "Totally want you to choke me."

Dick grins.

"Got anymore secrets to tell me?"

Your eyes light up and you nod, beckoning him to come closer so you can whisper in his ear. You cover the side of your mouth with your hand when you get closer to him.

"I know about your secret. That you're Nightwing."

"Wait, what the fu-"

[lemonlover1110]

Sukuna

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: A short car ride feels like an eternity for Sukuna.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Whoever convinced Sukuna to take his daughter and nephew to the park is going to pay for this. His ears are ringing and he feels a migraine coming up as the six-year-old loudly sings along to the song on the radio, and the one-year-old screams for dear life. He dreamt about this before– More like he’s had nightmares about this before.

You. You’re the one that brought up the idea. If he didn’t love you so much, he’d leave you for even suggesting this.

“Yuji, let’s play a game.” Sukuna says, and Yuji quickly shuts up. He sees through the rear view mirror as Yuji’s eyes light up, waiting to hear about this game. “Whoever can stay silent for the longest will win a dollar.”

“I don’t like that game…” Yuji responds, and Sukuna is praying to whichever deity that will answer, hoping that he can convince Yuji for at least five minutes. They’re almost at their destination, he just needs five minutes of silence before dealing with the kids at the park(though he has another screaming child in the backseat).

“I thought you liked money.” Sukuna points out, and Yuji crosses his arms, all pouty at the suggestion of playing the game. Sukuna shrugs before saying, “You’re just scared ‘cause you’re a loser, huh?”

“I’m not a loser!” Yuji yells, and Sukuna fights back a smirk, knowing that it’s working.

“It sounds like you’re too much a chicken to play.” Sukuna keeps taunting the child. He’ll keep doing it until Yuji agrees, or until they get to their destination. Whichever comes first.

“Okay. I wanna play.” Yuji says, and Sukuna is fighting back a smile. He’s able to turn off the radio, and the only noise that his ears hear is the sound of his child crying. Any other time, that noise alone would drive him insane but right now he finds peace in it.

“Papa.” His daughter is calling out for him, and Sukuna knows that if he answers, he loses. He can ignore the little one, she’s not going to die. He hears the sniffling from his treasure, and she calls out for him again, “Papa!”

“What do you need?” Sukuna ends up answering, losing his own game. She might not die if he doesn’t answer, but he might with the way she cries out to him.

“I win!” Yuji yells, and Sukuna feels his sanity slowly drift away once again. He sees in his peripheral as the little hand stretches out to be on the console, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Give me my dollar.”

“Greedy brat. Give your cousin what she needs instead of asking for money.” Sukuna gives his nephew a high five, essentially slapping his hand away. “She’s asking for water, hand it to her.”

“You owe me, old man!” Yuji yells before muttering, “Lying bastard.”

“What the hell did you just call me, Yuji?” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here! Be glad I didn’t eat your stupid old man when I had the chance!”

Yuji sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry at his uncle which earns a sigh from Sukuna. A short car ride shouldn’t drain him this much, but after this he needs a week’s worth of sleep. 

[kingtomura]

From Water to Wine

summary: It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, established relationship, smut with plot, lots of plot, jealousy, insecurity, hurt/comfort, oral (f! receiving), make up sx, confessions, a ton of kissing, not sorry, toxic environments, piv, overstim, creampie, begging, bad parental figures, toxic parenting, mdni

wc: 9.4k | crossposted to ao3 | part 4 of the strict parents au (one, two, three)

If someone had asked you a year ago where you saw yourself right now, you would have given them a million different answers. 

None of them involved your current reality. 

You would have never thought you would be right here, right now — in your boyfriend’s shabby basement drinking with his friends while they smoked and argued about the latest game releases.

And they were an interesting set of friends. 

“Bullshit, what the hell do you even know about games?” Tomura spat, pointing a finger and splashing a bit of beer from the bottle he held in his hand. 

The one you’ve come to know as Dabi just smiles that same grin that makes Tomura’s eye twitch in irritation and shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, not my fault some of us prefer first person shooters.” 

The conversation between them carries on and you find your mind drifting away — way too focused on the way Tomura has his arm wrapped around you with his free hand pressed against your hip, pulling you closer and making your cheeks flush deeper than what the alcohol already has. 

You like when he gets this way — a little louder and a little looser with his words. It's all a precursor to what will happen tonight, when he’s a little rougher and presses into you so much deeper. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you find yourself lost in the thought, biting your lip and watching the way Tomura’s heavy lidded eyes narrow as he focuses on his argument with Dabi. 

You can’t help but stare when he gets like this, the gleam of fire in his eye when he argues, never backing down when he knows he’s right. 

It’s alluring.

The giddy feeling you have only grows and you know its because tonight Tomura will fuck you in a way he only does when his grin is a little too wide and his eyes are a little too low. 

You feel more emboldened and your words are looser when it’s like this. Eager to speak up in the argument, defending Tomura against Dabi’s quips and its fun. 

It’s different to be able to speak so freely around people who would never judge you like your old stuck up friends would have. They all came from good families who have high expectations. Anything outside of the normal would be mocked and expelled. 

You feel so free here. 

With Tomura — with all of them. 

“Whatever you say, freak.”

“I'm sure it takes one to know one.” You shoot back and the room breaks out in laughter, even Dabi holds up his hands in surrender. 

The smug grin you wore only widened as Tomura leaned in and kissed your temple, proud that you can hold your own against the biggest smartass in the room. 

Himiko stands from her place on the couch with Spinner, laugh dying down, but smile remaining on her face. “Wow, Tomura, I like her way better than your other girl.”

You feel your grin slide off of your face as fast as it had arrived.

Other girl?

Tomura has never mentioned another girl besides you. 

The concerning comment makes your mind race with endless possibilities, the cycle only being broken as Himiko announces her departure, unaware of the inner turmoil she’s just thrown upon you.

“Jin doesn't like when I stay out too late so I’ll see you all later!” Her voice is high and chipper as she bounces towards the door.

“Hey, tell your brother don’t forget what he owes me, crazy girl!” Dabi yells after her, Himiko only returning a small wave and exiting the room. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, only being broken as Spinner dies in his game of Mario Kart, too drunk to focus, but all the more determined to win. 

“Damn it!” His frustration breaks through as he stands to his feet, “I almost had it!”

Dabi nods, clearly unbothered by the outburst and walking over to him, “work on it next time. It's getting late and I'm tired.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Spinner asks a little too loud, his intoxicated state more obvious as the minutes went on.

Dabi only shrugs, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him to the door. “Can’t let you walk home like this and risk getting snatched up now can I, princess?” 

You vaguely register Spinner’s retort as Dabi throws a hand up in a wave and leaves as well, leaving only you and Tomura in the room. 

What would have been exciting has become a weight in your stomach, leaving a pit of dread as your mind raced with Himiko’s words. 

Some other girl. Someone before you. A girl who’s already met his friends, who has already been in your place. It brings a different kind of feeling to your mind that you’ve never really experienced. 

The only thing that grounds you is Tomura’s shuffling as he stands and kisses your forehead. 

It’s as if that one kiss dispelled the thoughts poisoning your mind and replaced them with the warm feeling you usually have when it comes to Tomura. The feeling that is only heightened by the strong sensation of alcohol. 

You unsteadily trail behind him as he laces his fingers in yours and leads you out of the room and towards his. 

The path is a familiar one and the giddy feeling returns as you race through the familiar corridors with him. 

His home feels like a maze and the alcohol makes everything feel so much more fun. Your giggles and hurried footsteps are the only thing echoing throughout the halls as you chase behind him, eager to reach his room and come undone under his familiar touch.

Tomura has a habit of surprising you, though. 

You blame the alcohol for your dulled senses as you don’t expect him to stop before his bedroom, turning to press you into the corridor wall. A small gasp leaves you at the impact and you don’t have time to react before Tomura is gripping your thighs, hiking you up against the wall and pressing you so much closer.

The whimper that escapes your lips would embarrass you any other day, but today you can’t bring yourself to care. It only spurs Tomura on as he presses forward, kissing you with a fever you hadn’t expected him to be withholding. The urgency of the kiss only shows you how much he may have been holding back during the get together. 

You let out a soft moan as Tomura bites your lower lip, only to soothe it with his slick tongue in the next moment. Your arms wrap around his neck as you tilt your head, desperately seeking more of him as this heated endeavor grows with every passing moment. 

His hands travel up your thighs and along your sides, gripping anything and everything he could, pressing his clothed erection closer to your core and giving you more needed friction as he grinds against you. 

The way his hands slip under your shirt and massage your breasts makes you gasp again and Tomura takes this opportunity to press kisses along the column of your neck, loving the way he can finally leave as many marks as he wants. 

You’re in his home — there were no rules against marks. There were no rules at all. 

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling as Tomura licks and kisses along your neck, burying your hand in his ashen locks and weakly rutting your hips against his, craving more of him in any way possible. 

“So needy,” he breathes against you and you have to bite back a whine at his low tone. 

Tomura has you right where he wants you and it’s obvious. The more you ached for it, the more he would drag it out to tease you. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to rip the shorts off of you and take you right here, but you know it’s not that easy. 

“T-Tomura…” you try to keep it together, show him that you can be coherent even with the fuzz of alcohol muddling your mind. 

He pinches a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, this time drawing a yelp that you just couldn’t contain. 

His low chuckle reverberates against your neck, sending shivers all the way to your spine as slick between your thighs is beginning to soak through the material of your panties. 

“So sensitive, baby… you’d think I've been denying you.”

But you can’t help it. You wish you could cry out to him that your body just reacts like that for him, but you didn’t trust anything to fall from your lips besides a moan, so instead you keep quiet and hope he would give in to you sooner rather than later. 

Tomura trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, and then ultimately back to your soft lips, enjoying the feel of them against his. You knew this was always his favorite part. 

It was soft, it was intimate, and it was yours. 

Yours…

Your brows furrow at an unwanted thought, but you press on — pulling Tomura closer and flicking your tongue against his lips, knowing he would pull closer and deepen the kiss. 

He does and you’re grateful. 

The way his tongue dominates your mouth makes you mewl into the kiss. A welcome distraction from your increasingly loud thoughts. 

Tomura groans, bringing a hand down lower and lower until he reaches your clothed cunt. His finger presses against the thin fabric of the shorts, testing the waters of your sensitivity and loving the reaction he received in return. 

His touch makes your breath hitch, the feeling alleviating a bit of pressure that's been building up deep within you. 

You need more of it.

He pulls away again, trailing those soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck once more. It’s something that would usually make your heart flutter, but right now your mind is beginning to trail off, again. 

It’s the idea of your boyfriend with some other girl that haunts you. Someone before you. Her hands on his, doing the things you’ve grown to love with the boy you—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t want to think right now. You just want to feel. You just want Tomura to take you and make you feel good so you can stop fucking thinking—

“Hey.” 

Tomura’s sharp tone snaps you from your spiraling thoughts, bringing you back to reality. 

“What’s going on?” His voice is rough, as it usually is, but he is not frustrated. The narrowed glare in his eyes would make anyone else believe he was irritated, but not you. 

You know Tomura’s expressions like the back of your hand. He’s worried.

“I..” you pause, words lost on your tongue. What could you say? Jealousy is an ugly trait to have. “What do you mean?”

Tomura doesn’t buy your feigned ignorance. 

He pulls away further to get a better look at you, his hands resting on your thighs, the soothing motion of them tenderly rubbing up and down the exposed area makes you want to relax under his touch. 

“Why are you distracted?”

Your eyes cut to the side and you turn your head, unable to meet his ruby red gaze. The fear of admitting something as petty as jealousy eats at you. 

“I’m not.” You mutter, the lie not fooling your own ears. You’d be naive to think it would work on the one who taught you how to lie in the first place. 

It's clear he could see right through you and your eyes close at the soft touch of his hand along your chin, turning your head back to face him.

His eyes soften when they finally meet yours — the action is so slight you almost miss it. 

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement of the obvious, but you still bring yourself to nod, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and hoping you could bite it hard enough to taste the iron of blood. Anything to distract you from the white hot humiliation that this conversation will bring to you. “Why?”

You inhale, knowing Tomura is not the type to let it go. Knowing he would keep you here all night if he had to so that you would speak your mind. 

“Himiko…” you mutter, dropping your eyes once more as the threat of tears begin to form along your waterline. 

“Himiko?” The complete confusion in his voice makes you more upset, he probably didn’t even remember what she’d said. 

“What she said earlier,” your voice wavers at your words and your defeat is imminent. The tears have already broken their bounds and began to trail down your cheeks. Embarrassment be damned. “About your.. Your ex.”

You could practically see the cogs turn in his head as he recounted tonight's events — the alcohol no doubt impairing his reflexes. 

His expression only makes the pit of anxiety in your gut grow, tight, but clearly showing signs of unease, “Oh, that.”

You nod, confirmation stinging. 

“That was someone I dated in highschool. Back when I was a teenager for three months.” His gentle hand moves from your chin to your cheek, wiping the falling tears from your flushed cheeks. “I don’t even think she lives in Kamino anymore, and I don't care. Haven’t cared in years. It’s why we broke up.”

Your heart still feels heavy with the weight of jealousy as Tomura comforts you. It's a bitter emotion that you know you have no right to feel. This was all before you, it shouldn’t matter. 

Even though you don’t meet his eyes, Tomura lets you down — your toes touching the cold hardwood of the hallway floor as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

It’s soft and it’s sweet in ways you know Tomura only reserves just for you.

“C’mon, lets go to bed,” he takes your hand in his, leading you to the bedroom you’ve grown to know so well. “I’m exhausted.” 

And your heart beats in tandem with your steps as you make your way to the bed, your tears dried up as Tomura pulls you close, the warm embrace so much more soothing than you’d expected. 

It takes no time for your eyes to close — your mind drifting off to sleep as the weight of your heavy heart is lifted by Tomura’s touch. 

—---------------

There’s a window near Tomura’s bed. 

It's big and it gives you the best view when the weather is dark and rainy. It also has a secret gift of shining the morning sunlight directly in your face and waking you up. Something that Tomura had remedied for himself by covering the window with blackout curtains. 

You believe that one of you forgot to pull the curtain last night because the warm light of the sun’s rays cause you to stir from your sleep. 

No, that can be ignored. 

Something else is causing you to stir.

Something is making your brows furrow and your hips writhe as your lips part to pant at the feeling taking your breath away.

“W-what..” you mutter as you try to blink the sleep from your eyes, hand reaching down to investigate.

Your fingers meet the soft tresses of Tomura’s familiar locks just as his tongue makes direct contact with your clit, the feeling sending the wave of pleasure up your spine and causing you to cry out.

“Tomura..!” you cry weakly as you bury your fingers in his hair, back arching from the bed as he becomes more intentional with his actions, the excitement of waking you this way showing in his efforts. 

You gasp as Tomura’s skilled tongue flicks against your sensitive bud, his hands coming forward to hold your hips in place as he relaxes against your soaked cunt — lazily lapping at your entrance as you struggle to keep yourself together.

It’s effortless, the way he pushes your body to come apart, knowing you were still fighting the remnants of sleep and fully indulging in your pleasure. 

He gives your clit a soft kiss before moving to readjust on the bed, spreading your thighs wider as he watches your expression — his lips are glossy with saliva and slick, a small string of the mixture connecting him to your exposed cunt. 

Tomura has seen you in many different ways, in many different situations, but to be here, exposed before him so intimately makes you want to shy away. It makes you want to look away and you bashfully attempt to close your legs. 

If you were to keep going this way you may say some things you weren’t sure either of you were ready to hear. 

You blame it on the morning fuzz in your brain. 

There was no other explanation for the strong feelings you had within. The way they bubble along the surface of your words at every moment spent with Tomura. You know if you go longer with these feelings unchecked they would threaten to spill out and over — possibly tainting the comfort of your relationship with Tomura. 

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the lewd way Tomura laps at your cunt, moaning into you as the slick muscle of his tongue pushes you further and further to your end.

Tomura is watching your every move, his carmine eyes observing the way your hips twitch at the sensations, the way you breath hitches as he sucks on your clit — everything. 

You can’t help but fall into the pleasure. 

Coming undone is inevitable.

You toss your head to the side, the building pressure in your abdomen causing your thighs to tense as your hand finds his soft locks once more. The grip you had on his hair was nothing short of painful with the way you held on, but Tomura took it in stride, groaning at the rough treatment. 

He’s always liked when you were rougher with him. 

“F-fuck, Tomura, I can’t—” your words are slurred as his tongue glides against your clit, the sensitivity heighented as your mind rushes with the strong feelings that have plagued you for months.

You gasp as the budding realization hits you like a tidal wave. 

Your eyes clenched shut as the pleasure takes you over and under, dragging your muddled mind along as you come undone with Tomura’s touch. 

It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Your body shivers as you reach the end, climax overtaking you while Tomura makes it his mission to make a complete mess of you — only stopping when your twitches of pleasure begin to meld into overstimulation, causing your hand to weakly push his head away.

There were tears lining your vision as Tomura brought himself back up to meet you, slick lips seeking yours and you hungrily greet him, unbothered by your own taste gracing your tongue as you languidly lick into his mouth. 

Your mind buzzed in the afterglow of an early morning orgasm and the idea of getting more from him entices you.

So much so that it makes you question why he hasn’t taken it further. 

Instead, Tomura pulls away, granting you one more kiss before lying down on his side of the bed, his words beating you to the question that awaited on your tongue.

“Headache,” he supplies as you turn towards him, the morning sunlight from the window illuminates his pale tresses in an almost pastel hue — hair so white it almost looks blue. You want to reach out and touch him. “I drank more than I thought last night and arguing with Dabi doesn’t help.”

Your heart tugs at the memory, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you’ve grown to love those late weekend nights with Tomura’s friends. 

“I can bring you some water,” you offer, moving to stand. Maybe a little space would be good, it will give you a minute to think about the all consuming feelings that have flooded all parts of your mind this morning. “And some meds, too.”

Tomura hums in appreciation, turning over to face away from the sun.

You take that as your cue to go, but not before grabbing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of panties. Kurogiri shouldn’t be up at this time, but it would still be odd to walk around Tomura’s home naked. 

The trek to the kitchen is a short one and you waste no time grabbing an empty glass and some medication. 

Kurogiri was adamant about using one of those fancy water purifiers so it’s no surprise when you’ve fully distracted yourself, filling the glass and focusing your attention on the stream of water pouring from the refrigerator’s water dispenser. 

It’s so distracting that you don’t notice the presence behind you. 

“Oh, what’s this?” A deep voice behind you muses, catching your attention. The sound startles you so suddenly that you almost drop the glass of water. “Playing house now, are we?”

That doesn’t sound like Kurogiri, your thoughts race as you slowly turn to meet the mysterious voice of the man in question. 

He is… intimidating. 

He stands no less than twice your height with ashen hair that rivals Tomura’s. His eyes are even the same deep crimson of the boy you’ve grown to know so well. He eyes you with a tight smile, never straying from your gaze.

This must be—

“Are you Tomura’s friend?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, but you will yourself to speak. If this is who you think it is then it would be a bad idea to leave an impression worse than what you already have. “Yes.”

“I see. Would you be a dear and fetch him for me? I have a few words for him.” His tone is solid — even. 

You couldn’t make out how he felt in this moment if you tried. The small smile on his face seems pleasant, but given the circumstances of a half naked girl in what you can only assume to be his home really brings you no peace. 

So you nod again, hurrying off with the glass of water in your hand, forgoing the medicine and only wanting to be as far away from that man as possible. Something about him strikes fear into you. 

Tomura is in the same spot you left him before your kitchen adventure, but he cracks an eye open at the sound of you closing his bedroom door with a little too much force.

“What’s wrong?” he drags, turning over to face you and squinting as he gets hit directly in the face by the sun’s rays. You should really close that curtain soon.

The walk to him is short and you hand him the glass of water, bottom lip worried between your teeth as you search your mind for the right words.

“Someone’s here.” You didn’t mean to opt for an ominous choice, but you had no other idea what to say. Tomura has never talked about his parents. 

“What?”

“There’s a man in the kitchen. He wants to see you.”

This seems to click for Tomura as his eyes narrow for a second and then widen, ever so slightly, at the realization. 

You don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He sucks his teeth, taking the glass from your hand and downing the water as you watch on. Tomura seems calm, but he also has a very good poker face. If this is his parent then you’re not sure how long you would be able to stay.

The idea of going back makes you shiver. 

No, that’s not really an option. 

Tomura moves to stand, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and shirt, frustration evident in the way he tosses his clothes on. 

He gives you one more turn, words tight and brows downturned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod as he exits, leaving you alone in the silence of his bedroom. The beaming sun seems more comfortable than before, the warm rays dance along your skin as you play through every scenario that could come from their talk.

He could make you leave. 

That's the first and most obvious way to handle this situation. You know that your parents would never in a million years allow someone to stay under their roof with their daughter. It’s unheard of. 

Or worse, he could call your parents. 

You’ve gone completely no contact at this point and it wouldn’t be too much of a farfetched idea that this man would call them. Especially if Tomura tells him about your situation in full.

But… he could be a nice guy.

This could all be a big misunderstanding and blow over, if given enough time. This is more of a pipedream than a genuine idea, but you would go crazy if you only thought of the negatives. 

You don’t realize you’ve been pacing the room until you almost trip over a discarded shirt on Tomura’s floor. It stops you in your tracks and makes you look around to assess the state of his room. 

It's not perfect and it definitely needed work when you moved in, but it’s not terrible. 

You turn back to the door, as if Tomura would come bursting through with updates of the conversation at hand, but no. nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. 

The quiet of the room drives you crazy — there has to be something you can do.

It starts off small, picking up a few loose articles of clothing here and there, and then it delves into picking up empty drink cans, making the bed, and even sorting the mess of his closet. All in the name of passing time. 

By the time Tomura made his way back to the room, you have the space nearly spotless. He takes note, but refrains from commenting. Instead his next words shock you.

“He said you can stay.”

Your brows furrow. “I can?”

Tomura only nods, making his way back to his newly made bed and lying down once more, no doubt due to the headache still pounding against his skull. 

“That’s it?” you press — this all feels too easy. 

“Yeah, just wear pants more often.” He waves you off, turning over and gearing up to go back to sleep.

The comment makes your cheeks burn and you nod, even though Tomura can’t see it. 

It feels odd, especially knowing your parents would never allow this, but you suppose not everyone lived under such strict conditions. 

So instead, you push that uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut aside and climb into bed with Tomura.

His steady breathing is calming and the rhythmic sound helps you drift off as well, unable to shake the lingering of suspicion and uncertainty, ebbing away in the back of your mind.

—-----------

You’ve come to learn that Tomura is actually quite busy during the day. 

He is currently gearing up to go to his internship at the hospital, and it’s been taking up a chunk of his time lately. For a couple months he’s had a break from it since the doctor he had worked under was taking time away, but now he’s back and he wants Tomura to be busier than ever.

It’s not that you mind. Of course you knew Tomura’s life couldn’t revolve around you, but it still left you with not very much to do. 

On the days he has to go, you stay at home — your attention hopping from playing video games on his pc, to reading books then eventually cleaning. 

It's given you a lot of time to think about what you want for your own career. You’ve started to think long and hard about how you envision your future. The reason you were home from college in the first place was because you needed the time to think.

But now you have nothing but time and it feels even more stressful.

The thought of having to decide your entire future on a whim is daunting. 

What if you didn’t like where you were in five years? Could you start over? 

Would Tomura still be by your side?

That possibility catches you off guard as you stop in your tracks.  

Would he be by your side? 

You’ve never been in a relationship at all, especially not a long term one. You were all in, but how does Tomura feel? Would it be odd to ask? 

The plaguing thoughts seem to take root in your mind as you walk through the halls of Tomura’s home, hoping to find something to occupy your time and chase these feelings away. 

You think of the basement, it’s where the other gaming systems were set up and it’s also a good change of scenery. 

Yeah, that would take your mind off of it. 

Or it would have.

As you set your sights on the hallway that leads to the basement, there's a voice that catches your attention. It’s deep and ever so calm, even when strained by the words being spoken.

“That's not good enough. I told you to keep him there as much as you can.” The voice hisses to the person on the other line of what you can assume is a phone call. 

You stop in your tracks, just before you could pass the door of the room Shigaraki Senior was speaking from. Instead you listen in, putting your back to the wall beside the door and zoning in on his words.

“I don’t care how fast he tries to get the work done — he’s only doing that to get home sooner.” He pauses and takes a breath, frustration imminent. “I need them apart. He won't listen to me about it, but the sooner he gets bored of her, the better. I don’t have time for his little distractions.”

You have to bite back a gasp as the words ring in your ears. 

A distraction..? You knew it was too good to be true. 

“Right,” the voice carries on, calling your attention once more, “I understand, but if he is to be the next me he cannot afford to get sidetracked.”

You haven’t had much of a chance to get to know the head of the household, instead preferring to stick by Tomura and make yourself as unobtrusive as possible. 

It felt as though you were walking on eggshells. As if you were in an orientation period and any misstep would lead to you tossed out onto the street — you would be food for the wolves.

But you knew deep down that there was always something to worry about. It was too good to be true, yes, but you couldn’t understand why he was letting you stay anyway.

There's a lull in the conversation before it picks up again.

“I suppose…”  The man’s voice sounds like it's getting closer and you take that as your cue to go back to Tomura’s room — but not before you catch the sound of his parting words. “It seems I'll just have to try harder then, hm?”

You don't know what kind of games this man was going to play but you knew one thing.

You had to tell Tomura. 

—-----------

It doesn't go well.

“No, Tomura, I heard him,” you whisper, the harsh sound of your voice cutting through the dark room, the curtains blocking the light of the incoming dawn as Tomura began getting ready for another day at the hospital, “talking about us.” 

You look down, arms crossed and defensive. “He wants us to break up — and he thinks you’ll do it on your own.”

Tomura’s expression is a mix of shock and disbelief, probably unsure of why his father would ever want him to break up with someone who brings him so much joy.

“No, there’s no way.”

“I’m telling the truth.” you plead, putting on your best voice of reason.

“He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.” His tone is snappy, clearly ready for this conversation to end. 

But you persist. “Why would I lie?” 

“I don’t know — why would you?” He shoots back and the retort makes your ears perk. 

“I would never lie to you, Tomura, I—”

“Just stop,” he holds up his hand and the shock of it makes halt in your tracks. You’ve never seen him this agitated, or irate. “You don’t even know him.” 

But I don't have to know him, the words echo in your mind, stuck on your tongue as you watch Tomura continue, one hand to his neck as he etched his bad habit into his skin. 

He was starting to spiral. 

“You’re not even giving him a chance! I know he wouldn’t do that — he cares about me! He's the only one who—” Tomura stops himself, frustration leading him down avenues you don't think he’s walked in years.

You reach a hand out, aiming to comfort his ravenous habit, aching to tell him what’s really been eating away at your emotions for the last few weeks, but Tomura only scowls, the harsh look so intense it makes you snatch your hand back.

He’s never looked at you with such disdain before.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later.” His tone is final as he turns towards the door and you watch as he takes a breath to calm himself down, lowering his hand from his now redded neck.

Your chest feels tight, words fighting on your tongue to admit what you’d been holding within. It’s eating you up inside how strong these feelings were. “Tomura, wait— I didn't mean to upset you.”

He pays you a glance, expression neutral and features school back to their default calm. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more in the room that you’ve both begun to grow into. The desperate feeling in your chest fights for your undivided attention and you're beginning to wonder how long you can keep it at bay. 

—----------

The night doesn’t feel any better. 

Tomura’s return brings the tension from this morning and you’re positive he didn’t have the best day during his internship. It pushes the pressure between you further.

The air feels thick as you both move about in his room — you, scanning the books along his bookshelf for another manga to read, and Tomura on the floor with his notes from the day spread out in front of him. 

Luckily for you, Tomura breaks the silence. 

“There’s a dinner tonight — my father wants us both there.”

This piques your interest, eyes darting to his tense form. “Like a fancy dinner?”

Tomura shakes his head, adjusting the papers below with a bit too much force. He takes one flyer and balls it up, tossing it into the trash can near his desk as if the paper offended him. It’s crumpled, but you can still make out the words: Almighty Medicine.

“No, it’s just with us. Kurogiri will cook.” He pauses, features pensive as he decides his next words. “He wants to get to know you.”

Your heart sinks. 

It sounds like a trap. 

But you really didn’t want a repeat of this morning, so instead you suck it up and nod — even though Tomura couldn't see you. His gaze was completely focused on the papers below. His shoulders were stiff as he slouched to halfheartedly read the notes. You debate giving him some kind of massage to ease the edge.

You refrain, choosing to wait it out a bit more. The last thing you want is to stress him even more before the last minute dinner. 

So with a resigned sigh you answer, “Okay.” 

—---------

Kurogiri is a good cook.

It's the only thought in your mind as you absently stare at the food plated before you. Dinner tonight was filled with flavorful meats and vibrant vegetables. The rice was a perfect accent to the other options and any other time you would find yourself eager to dig in. 

But not tonight. 

No, tonight you can’t seem to find your appetite. 

You only push your cabbage back and forth with your chopsticks and await the inevitable questions you're sure Shigaraki Senior will ask.

“Tomura,” his baritone voice breaks the silence and you focus more on your cabbage, “you seem tense. What’s the matter.”

There’s a pause, and Shigaraki Senior’s faux friendly demeanor is not lost on you. “I saw that asshole again today. His face pisses me off.”

His father frowns. “Yes, well. That’s just business. When you’re over the company you won’t have to see him—“

“That’s not the problem!” Tomura cuts him off and you hold your breath, you could never raise your voice at home, “He leads his hospital and he’s a provider.”

“And that is not the path I have laid out for you.” The words are calm and collected, no hint of malice or anger. It’s eerily calm. 

 “Yeah, whatever. When are you going on that business trip again?” Tomura snaps.

The tension in the air is suffocating, it's thick and it's tense. It makes you want to run away, your feet anxiously tapping as you will yourself to bite down the uneasy feeling. 

The slow smile that creeps its way onto his father’s face makes your skin crawl. “You know, I believe I have more important matters to handle here at our home and in our town.”

“Great.” The sarcasm is evident in Tomura’s voice, dripping into the already strained air. 

“Well, that’s enough about our family matters... how about you, young lady.” His sharp eyes catch yours and you feel like a deer in headlights. “How are your parents? Do they know you’re here with my boy?”

You feel struck by his words, the pang in your stomach reverberating through your body as you scramble to find the words to answer him. “Well—”

“They’re aware.” Tomura cuts you off, his glare is ice as he places his chopsticks down and leans back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

It seemed to be a challenge, one you are not prepared to back him up on. 

You were never a good liar. 

His father’s attention is snapped back to Tomura and you were sure anyone else would falter under that glare. 

“Really? If it were my boy off staying with some young girl I would want to at least get to know the one who’s paying the bills.”

He only shrugs in response, false air of disinterest apparent as he picks his chopsticks up again, picking away at his food once more. “Well it’s a good thing she isn’t your child then, huh.”

You think the conversation is over — that Tomura has successfully dodged this bullet and you will be allowed a peaceful dinner, but things were never that easy for you. 

“I think we should give them a call, hm? If she’s staying in my home I want to make sure they know all the details.”

You watch Tomura’s fingers twitch, irritation threatening to explode and you can’t help but think that’s exactly what his father wants to see. 

It’s toxic, in a whole new way. 

“Fine,” Tomura surprises you, your eyes cut to his stiff form, “since you’re so worried why don’t you go ahead and do it. I don’t get why you care so much anyway.”

His father seems unimpressed — that smile and those chilling eyes frighten you, it makes your blood feel like ice in your veins. “You’re right, Tomura. I shouldn’t care. And you know what? I won’t.”

You both look up, dumbfounded. 

“I won’t care unless you both give me a reason to care. How does that sound?” 

It sounds fantastic, in theory, but you know that it doesn’t matter how it sounds. 

It’s blackmail. 

The reality of the situation hits you then and there. 

Tomura is combative with his father because he can be.

“I think that’s a fair trade, don't you, Tomura?”

But only to a certain extent. 

Your eyes dart between the two of them as the weight of his words set in. Tomura is forced to comply — agree to his fathers terms or else. This is a battlefield you aren't familiar with — one of mind games and bad faith practices. 

It is naive to think Shigaraki Senior will be sensible in what he decides are good reasons.

Your time here was limited.

The end of dinner was as stressful as its start: tense, awkward and very foreboding. 

The stress of it all had Tomura pacing his room while you helplessly sat on the bed fighting the urge to tell him I told you so — that would help no one here. 

“This is bullshit!” he starts, the frustration of his thoughts coming to a head and spilling out. “Give me a reason, yeah, whatever.” 

Your brows furrow as you watch Tomura vent, his bitter words hanging in the air as you purse your lips — trying and failing to come up with any kind of solution for your situation. 

“And why does it even matter that you're here? He’s hardly here anyway!” The perturbing scratching habit has made its return and this time you do stand to your feet, marching over to where Tomura paced and taking his hand. 

As upsetting as this situation was, you knew that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if tomura destroyed himself in the process of understanding his father’s true intentions. 

“Hey,” you try, reaching for his hand and refusing to back down this time. “We’ll figure something out.”

You’re surprised when he lets you, his carmine eyes lock with yours as his ever present scowl remains unchanged. “Yeah, like what?”

You try to ignore the cross tone in his voice, opting to just hold his hand and try again. You're beginning to realize this is uncharted territory for both of you. 

“I don’t know, who was the guy you saw at your internship? The one who runs the other hospital and all? Maybe you could ask how he—”

“I am not doing that.” Tomura cuts you off, voice even more agitated.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you ignore his tone. You squeeze his hand instead, still trying to remain calm. “But you never know, Tomura. Maybe he could help you—”

“No! Why would I ask him of all people?” He snatches his hand away and you realize you’ve struck a nerve. 

This wouldn’t end well.

“You don’t even know who he is, you don’t know what he’s done!” His voice begins to rise and you wonder if he’s aware of the hurt lining his words. There is a hidden history in this mystery man that Tomura has foregone informing you of. 

You’re beginning to recognize a pattern — something about that fact gets under your skin. 

“Maybe I would if you actually told me anything about your life, Tomura! You’ve barely let me in at all!” 

And it’s true. 

You knew nothing about his father, he doesn't talk to you about his internship and you don’t even know who this mystery super provider is. You’ve been in the dark for a while and you’re tired of it. 

“And why should I do that?” He questions, becoming more and more defensive as the conversation carries on. “So you can use it against me?”

“What?” you gasp, baffled by his accusation. “Why would I ever do that?”

“I don’t know! Why else would you fucking care?”

“I care because I love you, dumbass!”

Both of you freeze. 

You didn’t want it to come out this way. 

You wanted the confession to be one of candied words and hushed whispers. You wanted it to be slow and romantic, maybe while Tomura was deep inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you see stars. 

But things were never ordinary when you were dating a man like Tomura Shigaraki. 

In that moment you realize that maybe this was something you were willing to learn to live with. 

“What,” Tomura’s voice is low as if speaking louder would shatter the still air within the room, “what did you just say?”

Your breath hitches, the buzz of anxiety and anticipation makes you hesitate. “I said.. I love you, Tomura.”

He takes a step forward, it’s slow but sure. You remain stagnant and still. 

“Say it again.”

You do. 

“I love you, Tomura.” The words are warm as they leave your lips and now he stands before you, his height forcing you to look up at him. 

His carmine eyes shine with unbridled fervor that seems to be itching to make itself known. 

You want to see him lose control. 

So with a slow smile, you gear up to say it again, “I love y—“

You’re cut off by the press of Tomura’s lips against yours and the desperation in it pushes you back. Tomura is fast, pulling you closer to stop you from losing your balance. You feel lightweight as you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

It’s intoxicating the way he maneuvers you, the way he makes you melt into the kiss, desperate for more — and he gives it to you. 

His hands trail up your sides and back down to grip your ass. The action makes you gasp and Tomura wastes no time taking advantage of the opportunity, his tongue dominating your mouth as the heat between your thighs grows. 

You moan into the kiss and lean forward as Tomura begins to pull away. 

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he gazes down at you, lazy grin on his face. 

There isn’t much time to mull over what Tomura was thinking, he takes your confusion in stride, using the opportunity to push you back, bottom landing onto the bed and bouncing once with the force of impact. 

Before you can speak, Tomura is on you, lips against yours and pushing you down onto his dark sheets. You bring a hand to those familiar pale locks and close your eyes — allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling and finally release the pent up energy of your emotions. 

Tomura is quick, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts and dragging them down with your panties in tow and leaving you exposed before him. 

You gasp at the gentle touch of his index finger slipping between your slick folds and going no further.

“Tomura…” you try, pulling away from the kiss and hoping the hunger in your voice would be enough for him to continue.

He only gazes at you, eyes half lidded yet vibrant. You’re sure he’s put you in a trance.

“Say it again.” 

“I love you.” you breathe and then gasp as he finally touches you. 

His finger is gentle as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, the action makes your head feel fuzzy as the pleasure begins to rise. 

Tomura leans forward to press kisses against the column of your neck, nipping and sucking along the soft flesh — no doubt trying to leave deep marks into your skin. 

“Mm!” you squeeze your eyes shut as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to his movements and slowly bringing you closer to the edge. Tomura is steady with his hands, he knows your body so well. From the inside and out so he knows that if he continues at this pace you would come undone way before you wanted to. 

Maybe that's what he was aiming for. 

His other hand is warm as he cups your breast, tweaking a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, knowing it drives you crazy. You feel dizzy as his fingers leave your clit and travel lower to your entrance, pressing not one, but two fingers inside and chuckling at your whine.

“What?” he teases, pumping the digits in and out as you writhe beneath him, “too much?”

You want to shake your head, tell him no, and that it's never too much when it comes to him, but the only thing you can manage is a pathetic whimper as you grip his dark shirt. “Please, Tomura.” 

“Please, what?” you can feel his grin against your neck as he places another open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “You gotta talk to me, baby.”

“T-touch me,” you plead. 

He moves up so that he’s eye to eye with you once more. The grin on his face was just as you imagined it, smug and excited. “I am touching you.”

You close your eyes again, knowing exactly what he wants you to say. “Make me feel good, Tomura. Please.”

He likes that answer, you can tell by the way his eyes soften and his fingers twitch ever so slightly within you. 

Tomura leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss once more as he moves his fingers with purpose, his thumb now pressing against your clit as the sensation grows.

It's hard to contain your cries, but you try. His fathers words echoing in the back of your mind — the possibility of loud sex with his son being a reason to kick you out almost makes you laugh.

At this point it would probably be worth it. 

“F-fuck,” you breathe as you lean into the feeling, your eyes flutter closed as you bring Tomura closer. Your peak is so, so close you can almost taste it.

Tomura would tease you any other time. He would try to drag it out in an attempt to see you squirm, but tonight he’s being so kind. He is so generous as he brushes against that spot inside that drives you crazy. He does it over and over again, making your toes curl in pleasure as the euphoric feeling takes you over the edge. 

The elation of your orgasm makes you shiver and cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you lose yourself in him. 

Tomura presses another kiss to your sweet lips, swallowing your moans as you cum on his fingers, soaking the digits in your slick and trembling in pleasure, 

Once you come down from your high Tomura is quick to remove his clothes and you follow his lead, finally removing your shirt. 

The feeling of his warm chest against yours is always so comforting. It brings a feeling of safety and security as he presses against you, his cock rock hard and dripping from the excitement earlier. 

He places a chaste kiss against your lips as he rubs the head of his cock between your slick folds, the glide is smooth and you gasp every time he brushes against your clit. Your hands find his soft locks again as you begin to move in tandem with his actions, trying to get more of the feeling as best you can. 

At this, Tomura pulls away, kiss swollen lips red and eyes soft, his words hold no bite, “Desperate, huh?” 

You nod, in no mood to tease back and Tomura can tell. He feels it in the way you look at him, so he presses his forehead against yours, his pale locks falling against your cheeks. 

“Again, tell it to me again.”

And you know what he’s talking about. You’re both so close, chest to chest and you swore your hearts were beating in tandem.

“I love you, Tomura.” you whisper and it's for his ears only.

Tomura groans, closing his eyes with a soft grin on his lips.

“Fuck…” he breathes against you, and that’s all it takes as he presses into you. The stretch of his cock makes you wince, but the smooth slick of your arousal helps him slide in with ease. 

You hold on and allow Tomura to anchor you as he pushes forward, desperate to give you everything he can. 

He bottoms out with a sigh, filling you completely as you bite your lip in anticipation — the pressure of feeling full is addictive. It doesn't take Tomura long to move, his eagerness impossible to hide as he pulls back, almost pulling out, and drives forward, rough and desperate.

It’s everything you've wanted and your body is greedy as you take in all of him. 

“Yes, Tomura!” You fight to keep your voice down but it proves impossible as Tomura sets a brutal pace, fucking out every ounce of tension he’s held within for the past few days. You can feel it as it unravels with each and every trust. 

Tomura adjusts ever so slightly and that's all it takes for him to hit that special place inside of you. 

“A-ah!” You moan underneath him, ripples of pleasure cascading up your spine as his sharp assault on your sensitive spot carries on. The consistent sparks of pleasure have your brows furrowed and legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to pull him closer, to feel him deeper. 

“Fuck,” Tomura mumbles and his low tone makes you shiver. 

You know that you won't last much longer if he keeps this up, but you give up trying to hold back. You cannot stop the way your cries spill from your lips, echoing against the walls of Tomura’s bedroom and mixing with the sound of his urgent trusts.

The lewd noises rise as your cunt drips with arousal against Tomura’s push and pull thrusts. His heavy balls slap against your ass with the force of them and you close your eyes, falling into the rhythm. 

You dont expect it when it happens, but it comes all the same — your orgasm takes you under, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy capturing your mind as your lover fucks you through it. 

He groans at the sensations, the way your cunt squeezes him almost sends him over with you, but he holds on.

Tomura lowers himself, slowing down as you ride out your high and his lips are close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he starts and you feel his hips stutter as he tries to regain his pace, sending you into overstimulation. Tomura knows you can take it — and he can’t stop now. He was so close to his peak. “L-love you.. So much..” 

The words make your eyes widen, they are soft and slow as if unspoken for years and you can’t help but wonder how many. 

“Tomura..” you whisper as you turn your head, craving his lips and his gaze. 

Your eyes meet and you feel synced as you bring a hand down to his cheek, your heart racing as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, you love him. Truly and deeply, you love Tomura. 

He pushes forward, capturing your lips in a kiss as his thrusts grow more erratic, hungry for his own release as he groans against your lips. 

It doesn’t take long — Tomura gives a few more strong thrusts and meets his end, cumming inside of you with a mewl that you drink up. The twitch of his cock is subtle but the pearly white ropes fill you to the brim, leaving you ruined and raw as he pumps it as deeply as he could.

Tomura pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Sweaty and sated you both try to catch your breath. 

His bedroom is quiet and still, making you both feel as though you were the only two in the world. You know that it is deep into the night and Tomura would still have to wake up early in the morning, but you know none of that matters to him.

No, Tomura couldn't care less as shares this moment with you, the stress finally expelled from his body and the weight lifted from his mind. 

His carmine eyes hold you captive as you melt into them and you realize then that you can’t see yourself anywhere but here — with Tomura. 

It's a chilling realization. 

Once you’ve both gathered your bearings and Tomura pulls out — taking his rightful place beside you, the overwhelming pull of sleep drags you along. 

Tomura leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead with whispers of goodnight and his newly relaxed demeanor is contagious. 

You know that you may be on borrowed time with him here, but that's okay.

Your eyes catch the crumpled flyer hanging near the trashcan by his desk, the words Almighty Medicine big and bold on the paper.

The feeling of sleep is heavy in your body, but your last thoughts are of a plan. 

You know there’s a way out of here. 

For both of you.

[urhoneycombwitch]

I know what they call you.

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, ��At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao.

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

[dreamescapeswriting]

Lights Out ~ JJk

⤜WORD COUNT:2.7K

⤜PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Girl!Best friend

⤜GENRE: smut. Pure filth MINORS DNI, includes tit sucking, tit kink, threesome, oral (both giving and receiving) tit play, ice play (on nipples) hope this is okay for you my love, unprotected sex

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

This content is a work of fiction and is meant for entertainment only!!! All content is made for 18+ only. No one was harmed in the making of this fictional piece, all parties were consenting and above the age of 18.

The sun blazed mercilessly over Seoul, casting an oppressive heat that seemed to suffocate every inch of air that was available. Even with the AC running it still didn't feel like enough for you to breathe properly. Jungkook lay sprawled on his bed, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to force his body to relax, he'd decided to do a small workout and was now regretting the decision to even move from his bed that morning. The ceiling fan whirred feebly above him, doing little to alleviate the stifling heat that had invaded every corner of his bedroom. He sighed, lazily reaching for the glass of water on his nightstand, only to find it empty.

In the living room, the sound of laughter and animated conversation drifted in. You were sitting with your best friend Jihyo, lounging on the couch, their voices a comforting hum in the background. Despite the heat, the two of you were in high spirits, trying to make the best of an unbearably hot day. The windows were thrown wide open in a desperate attempt to catch any semblance of a breeze, but the air was stagnant, heavy with humidity making it damn near impossible for any fresh air to fly through.

"You have told him I don't bite right?" Jiyho laughs as she looks at you. Jungkook had decided to give the two of you some space while you had her around to the apartment that day despite you telling him he was more than welcome to join you both.

"He says I need 'girl time' with you," You giggled, shaking your head as you remembered Jungkook's face when you told him he could join you. He wanted to but he also wanted you to have a nice morning with your friend while he stayed out of the way.

"He's one of us now," She giggles a little but the lights flickered ominously before plunging the apartment into darkness. A collective groan echoed through the space as the sudden silence signalled the loss of the fan’s gentle hum and the whir of the refrigerator. Soon the AC shut itself down and that one bit of coldness you'd experienced was ripped away from you leaving you in a hot mess.

"No, no, no!" Jihyo exclaimed, her voice rising in dismay, she stared around at the lights waiting for them to come back on but nothing did. 

"The power's out!" You glanced around, your eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains, you knew that it was likely coming since the AC had been struggling all week to deal with the overwhelming amount of work it was going through all week thanks to everyone using it. 

"Great, just what we needed," you muttered, but your tone was more resigned than upset. Jihyo began to fan her shirt away from her body, whimpering a little as it stuck to her body thanks to the sweat that was now leaking from her body.

"Mind if I take it off?" She asked you, your eyes landing on her as you shook your head at her. It wouldn't be the first time the two of you had stripped off in front of each other. Hell, the two of you had seen each other naked more times than either of you could even count.

"Not at all." You giggled unbuttoning your own shirt and revealing the black bra you'd been sporting since that morning, throwing your shirt onto the armchair on the other side of the room as Jihyo did the same revealing her bright purple bra. 

"Damn, did they get bigger?" She gasps at you, running her fingers over your bra and making your back shiver a little as you let out a small whine, your cheeks heating up at the sudden attention from her. 

"I think so," You laughed a little as she smirked at you, slowly taking off the rest of her clothes, you joining her, until the two of you were sat in nothing but your underwear and yet it still felt too hot for even that.

The two of you sat there together practically naked as you let out a small whine, it was doing nothing to cool you down and you were starting to get a little bored.

"Jungkook, are you okay in there?" You called out, your voice carrying a note of concern as you realised he hadn't even come out to talk to you about the power going.

"Yeah, just trying not to melt," Jungkook replied, forcing a chuckle. He ran a hand through his damp hair and decided it was time to join the two of you out there. It had to be a little cooler out there than it was in the bedroom at least. Maybe your energy would be contagious, and he could forget about the sweltering heat for a while. But as he stepped out of his room, his gaze landed on the two of you as the breath was knocked from his lungs.

He hadn't expected to come out to see the two of you standing there in next to no clothing and he bit down on his tongue. Doing his best not to make it weird, he sat down on the armchair and looked over at you.

"Well, looks like we're all in this together," he said with a wry smile, you could read him like a book and you knew exactly what seeing the two of you like this together was doing to him. 

"Any ideas on how to survive this heatwave without power?" His voice cracked a little and he moved one of the pillows to his lap, his erection only growing harder as you bent over and reached for your cup of water, squeezing your tits together more and driving him up the wall.

Jihyo grinned despite the situation, your boyfriend's growing hard-on hadn't gone unnoticed between the two of you and she squeezed your hand teasingly. 

"We could tell ghost stories to distract ourselves from the heat. Or, better yet, find some ice and have a cold drink contest." She suggested but it only made your mind wander as she bought up "ice" and you couldn't stop the smirk from growing.

"I can think of a better idea for the ice if you're okay with it?" You suggested, your eyes finding hers as you had a silent conversation with one another.

"Back when we were in Uni we did it," She smirked already knowing where your mind was going with it.

"Baby, can you go and get me some ice?" You turned your focus on Jungkook who nodded, carefully getting up and heading to the freezer as you giggled with Jihyo slowly reaching up her back. 

"You're okay with this?" You asked, your voice coming out low as she let out of soft whine and nodded her head,

"Fuck yes," She whispered as you unclasped her bra, leaving her tits completely exposed as you slowly licked your lip, your best friend was hot there was no denying that and you were attracted to her. Not that you'd ever do anything now that you were with Jungkook but the two of you had done plenty together in the past.

"Your turn," She giggles, leaning down and kissing the top of your breast before exposing you to the world, throwing your bra in the direction of the kitchen having it land in front of Jungkook who was standing there. His face was now the colour of a tomato as he stared at you both, your huge tits just sitting there as he let out a low groan.

"It was too hot," You gasp out, exaggerating a little as you pull Jungkook to sit on the sofa beside you, you slowly take an ice cube from the tray he was holding and place it in your mouth. 

"Yn." He whimpered a little, watching intently as you leant down toward Jihyo's breasts and began to trail the ice cube from the nape of her neck right down to her nipples, sending them hard within seconds as she let out a strangled gasp at the cold sensation running through her.

"Fuck that's good," She moans out, rolling her head back against the sofa and arching her back toward you a little. You glanced over at Jungkook to make sure this was okay but he was already rubbing his cock through his shorts making you smirk at him. 

"We could pass some time," You whisper as you take the ice cube from your lips, slowly trailing it over Jihyo's other nipple as she let out a string of curse words. 

"D-Doing what?" Jungkook's voice cracked a little, his eyes never straying from Jihyo's breasts but you didn't mind as you giggled a little. 

"You know what," You whined leaning down to her tit, taking her nipple into your mouth and sucking softly as you used your other hand to play with the other. Moans filled the room as Jihyo cried your name out and ran her hands down your back, pulling you closer to her body. 

"Jungkook," She whimpered as she watched him rubbing his cock through his shorts,

"Join us," She whispered, as you smirked around her nipple, biting down softly as she let out a loud scream of your name and whimpered a little at you. 

"Evil, bitch." She hissed out as you left her without your mouth, turning your attention to your boyfriend who looked like he was trying to sus out if this was real or not.

"Baby...Do you want to join us?" Your fingers slowly trailed up his thigh until your hand was over his hard cock, rubbing softly as he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

"N-Not a dream, not a dream." He moaned out in ecstasy as you giggled at his innocence.

"No baby, not a dream." You confirmed, slowly undoing the tie of his shorts and freeing him from them.

"Jesus, now I know why you struggle to walk for a while," Jihyo whined as she saw the length of Jungkook's cock on full display, precum already leaking down his shaft as you giggled. 

"Fuck that's hot," You moaned out as you gently run your index finger along the underneath of his dick, watching in amusement as he twitched as you got to the tip of his dick.

"Does seeing us together get you hard baby?" You whispered, your free hand starting to rub Jihyo's tit as she ran her fingers down your nipples, squeezing them softly. Jungkook's cock twitched and he nodded frantically at you both.

"I know what will get him harder," Jihyo whispers as she leans down and takes your left breast into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around your nipple as you let out a moan of her name. 

Jungkook soon leaned down on your right nipple and did the same, his eyes locked onto Jihyo's as he paid attention to her movements on what she was doing.

"S-Shit," You stuttered out as you looked down at them both, your moans getting louder as they continued to suck and tug on your nipples.

"Shit baby didn't know you liked it this much," Jungkook chuckled as he kissed your breast,

"Fuck it's so good." You pant, looking at him as he took your breast back into his mouth and sucked harsher this time.

Jungkook had always been a tit man which was why he rarely came out of his room whenever you and Jihyo were around together. How could he? The two of you had huge breasts and he didn't want you to get upset if he stared too long. 

"I-I want you to fuck me." You whimper a little, looking at Jungkook who was licking his lips. Jihyo smirked at you, sucking harshly on your nipple as she felt herself getting wetter at the thought of it. 

"Are you sure?" Jungkook whispered, looking at you with lust in his eyes. It was almost every guy's dream to get into a situation like this and as much as he wanted to dive in head first, he wanted to make sure this was something you were comfortable with.

"Never been so sure in my life," You moan out, rubbing his cock softly in your hands as he let out a strangled moan of your name.

"You better be a good little whore and get on your hands and knees then," He smirked, his dominating side coming out through his words as you squeezed your thighs together.

"Where do you want me baby?" Jihyo whispered to you as you watched her kneeling in front of you,

"L-Lay below me, let me eat you out while he fucks me," You smirk as she kissed down your neck, her hands squeezing and rubbing your tits as Jungkook positioned himself behind you.

"Don't need these anymore," He grunts, practically ripping the fabric from your hips and throwing it down to the ground making you whine at him.

"Those were new," You pouted as Jihyo giggled, sucking on your neck softly.

"He can buy you more later, baby." She coos, your lips meeting hers in a messy make-out session, only making Jungkook's cock harder as he watched the two of you.

"Don't blow your load yet, Jungkook. She wants to feel you," Jihyo tuts, smirking as she lays down below you and sucks on your clit making your knees buckle a little.

"F-Fuck Jihyo," You whine out as she continues to suck on your clit, 

"Her tight cunt knows who it belongs to." Jungkook growls, the tip of his dick at the entrance of your pussy making you roll your hips back for more from him.

"Ask nicely," Jihyo and Jungkook said in unison making your head roll back in ecstasy. 

"Please, I need it." You whined out, not having it in you to be teased tonight. Without a second thought, Jungkook slowly pushed into you until he was buried deep inside of you, your back arching deeply as you felt him at the deepest parts of you.

"Shit," You cry out, pulling Jihyo's legs open and ripping her underwear off her body the same way Jungkook had done to you.

"Someone's needy," She giggles as you pull her toward you, pushing your tongue deep into her cunt and making her moan out loudly. In return her lips found your clit once again and she started sucking in time of Jungkook's rough thrusts. 

The three of you moved in perfect time with one another, every time Jungkook sped up you did too. Thrusting two fingers into Jihyo as she cried out your name, her fingers gripping your hips as she sucked on your clit.

"J-Jungkook." You panted, clenching around him as he continued to fuck into you roughly. The sight of you eating out your best friend sent him wild as his thrusts began to get erratic. 

"You gonna cum baby? You wanna cum all over my cock?" He moans out loudly, holding your hips in place as he ploughed into you from behind. The combined thrusts from him and sucking from Jihyo sent your head into a frenzy and you could barely form the words to agree with him.

"D-Don't stop! F-Fuck, I'm right there." You begged, as your orgasm began to build. Jihyo's back arched as you moaned against her clit, cumming around your fingers and over your face. The action sent Jungkook reeling as he frantically sped up inside of you,

"F-Fuck, Yn! Shit, Jihyo." He cries out as you cum around his cock, whimpering loudly as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm until he came deep inside of you, holding himself perfectly still as you looked up at him from below. 

"T-That was so good," You whine out, Jungkook opened his mouth to speak but the sound of the AC turning back on and the lights flickering back on stopped him as you all let out soft giggles.

"I guess it really did pass some time," Jihyo laughs as she slides out from under you and watches as you slide away from Jungkook letting out a small whimper at the loss of contact,

"Who wants ice cream?" Jihyo grins, rushing to your freezer as you giggled, leaning your head on Jungkook whose cheeks were flaming red.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @whitefoxgirl

[vibrantshoyo]

SCKAP AU Part Three!

Masterlist

I’m gonna go in a different direction for part four so I figured I’d wrap up the Heart Pirates portion of it (they’ll be back)

So! Pre-timeskip only has Rosie added onto Law’s entourage during Sabaody. Not much of a difference. I’ve got Cora and Del staying behind on the Tang bc 1. Still pretending Cora is dead (hence the dyed hair) 2. Delly’s half fishman.

Which leads to revealing Rosie’s epithet as Rosie the Riveter bc why the hell not! It’s fun! And I know she doesn’t say Armsmorphosis all that much and only for her full body transformations but I couldn’t come up w a fitting catchphrase for her.

After Marineford, Cora splits up from the crew since, from this point onwards, their I Hate Doflamingo plan is starting. He decides to travel the grand line (wearing what I’ve designed for him in part one) creating his own lil information network. He’s in constant contact with his kids too.

I’ve got Del’s usual fit here: a swimsuit underneath some clothes that I think are more femme leaning and in line w Law’s style of dress. Delly looks up to him a lot here. They also cut the hoodie up themself. And high heeled boots. They intrinsically like dressing more femininely. Giolla just gave them bad fashion taste in canon ok?

In Dressrosa, I’ve plopped Delly with Nami and the others on the Sunny for the duration of it. Cue screaming match between Del and Giolla lol

Also wanted to show Del’s puffy hat at Punk Hazard.

And Shachi and Penguin without all the hats and glasses in the way. Until Oda says otherwise, Shachi is also a half human half fishman (archerfish type - yeah I looked up what fish can shoot water at people. There’s no other explanation that makes sense to me for Shachi inflating and becoming a water gun.)

Additionally: Delly and Penguin match their nail polish often.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 11.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: the events of ch 11 in jk's pov

☆word count: 1.2k

☆a/n: this one made me sad :( hope you guys like it! I've purposefully not put the full explanation bc it hits better later in the story sooo sorry about that. also just a note that depression sucks and I hope none of you guys have to deal with it and, if you do, please know that you aren't alone <3

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook is annoyed. He’s been annoyed all day, and he really just wants to go home.

To go home to you.

“What’s got you sulking?” Jimin asks, and four pairs of eyes shoot towards Jungkook.

Indeed, they are at the restaurant for lunch, Gabrielle having joined them to eat on her lunch break from her internship. 

“Nothing,” Jungkook says, grabbing his glass of water and taking a long sip.

Taehyung frowns, yet remains silent. It’s been happening a lot frequently, and Jungkook has truly, really been annoyed by it.

“Missing OC?” Jimin teases, wiggling his eyebrows and earning a punch in the shoulder by Sera.

“Shut up,” she says as Jungkook clenches his jaw.

“Will you please fucking stop with that?” Jungkook lets out, unable to keep his ire from his voice.

Jimin’s gaze widens, and then he laughs. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

“Maybe because you’ve been a little shit about this the whole week?”

“You’re aware it’s making it seem like it’s true…”

“Stop, Jimin,” Sera intervenes, her tone stern and authoritative.

The only tone Jimin ever listens to. Indeed, Jimin stops, pouting, and he mumbles an apology. Jungkook ignores it, his gaze shifting to Taehyung, and he doesn’t miss the muscle feathering under Taehyung’s skin as he clenches his jaw.

“What?” Jungkook spits, unable to help himself.

“You fucking my sister?”

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, his heart clenching in his chest. “Nope. You guys need to fucking leave me alone is all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. This time, it’s Ariane’s turn to talk, and she does so with a pointed glare at Taehyung.

“I thought we said yesterday that we weren’t going to talk about her anymore.”

They did. Because scenes like this one have been happening the whole trip, and Jungkook really just wants to go home. The thought sticks around all day, up until they’ve had their shares of drink back at the Air Bnb, not feeling like going out.

Maybe Jungkook’s foul mood has been contributing to everyone’s lack of enthusiasm about going out, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d much rather stay at the Air Bnb, where he doesn’t have to avoid girls coming up to him trying to flirt.

Except Gabrielle. Though it’s not like that with Gabrielle, and he knows she’s a safe space. As much as someone can be without knowing about you - he reckons his only true safe space is you.

Perhaps that’s why he ends up sitting in his room with Gabrielle while the others chill in the living room. Partly to catch up, but also mostly to laugh at the absurdity of their parents wanting them to marry, as if they ever would.

“They’re crazy,” Gabrielle repeats for the hundredth time. “Complètement fou.”

Jungkook nods. “It’s nothing new. They’ve been like that since high school.”

Gabrielle chuckles, turning her head towards Jungkook. “Is your dad still an asshole?”

Jungkook winces, because he feels like his father has only been getting worse and worse with time, finding new ways to put Jungkook through hell all the time. Though the ignoring has been better than the fights and the constant insults he’d used to receive when he was younger, if he’s being honest.

“Yup. You really think someone like him could change for the better?”

Gabrielle slightly shakes her head. “Nah. People like our parents will die as shitty as they were the day they were born.”

Jungkook likes to think that his parents weren’t always like this. That, perhaps they were just corrupted by money growing up. But then again he can’t reconcile the image of his parents being kind to the one that he knows, that he’s known all his life.

So instead, he raises his beer. “Cheers to that.”

There’s a silence as Gabrielle drinks from the wine bottle she carried to the bedroom when they left the rest of the group back in the living room. Jungkook’s thoughts trail to you, and he wonders what you’re up to right now. You mentioned you were going out with your friends - are you already with them, or are you at home thinking about him like he’s thinking about you, too?

“What’s going on with Taehyung’s sister?” Gabrielle asks out of the blue.

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. And though he wishes to say everything, to tell Gabrielle about what he feels for you, he knows he can’t. Not as long as you haven’t said it’s okay to talk about it.

And not when Gabrielle would likely tell Ariane, and Ariane would then tell Taehyung.

“Not you too,” Jungkook grumbles, and he hopes Gabrielle can’t spy the blush slowly dusting his cheeks, up to the tip of his ears.

“I’m just wondering!” Gabrielle says, and she lets out a small laugh before pushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen pictures, I feel like she would be your type.”

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound as he shrugs his shoulders.

“So?” Gabrielle presses.

“So what?”

She rolls her eyes, laughing again. “Is something going on between you and her?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, preparing himself to lie to the one person that he’s never had to lie to before. “No.”

Gabrielle remains silent, the weight of her gaze on his profile heavy, and then she sighs. “Then, can I ask for your help?”

He stiffens. “What for?”

He knows what to expect - it’s the same as back when they were in high school, and she’d needed his help more than once then. Though he’d used not to mind, this time he hates it. So much so that he gets up, heading towards the door.

“Please,” Gabrielle says, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. “S’il-te-plait, Jungkook.”

“No,” he reaffirms, turning to face her. He thinks of you, thinks of the last time he kissed you, and wishes he was with you right now. “I can’t do this again.”

“Just this once,” she insists. “And then I will never ever ask that of you again.”

He thinks of the years. He thinks of Gabrielle defending him when his father insulted him during a dinner, or that time at the charity. He thinks about every night they’d fallen asleep in the same bed dreaming about a day where they wouldn’t have to worry about their family’s influence anymore. He’d thought she’d be okay now, independent as she was, but it seems she hasn’t escaped the pressure of her family yet, much like him.

“Gaby, I really can’t…” he trails off, scanning her features, hoping that she’ll understand, that she’ll know you are in his life and would never do something like that to you.

“Please,” Gaby says, her gaze begging.

He hates himself. He always has, more than he’d ever care to admit, but Jungkook hates himself too much for what he says next.

“Just this once.”

It’s like the universe was planning for this to happen anyway. Indeed, there’s laughter behind the door, and Gabrielle immediately grabs his face, pulling him down into a kiss. Jungkook closes his eyes, tells himself that you’ll understand, that he won’t lose you. 

When Gabrielle pulls away, looking just as uncomfortable as him, Jungkook whispers, “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

It’s easy, after, to pretend that the tears in his eyes are caused by Gabrielle. Even as Taehyung claps him on the shoulder as if to congratulate him, Jungkook doesn’t have to hide how much he aches from the inside out.

Gabrielle leaves, and Jungkook goes to bed right away, wishing to be able to skip time until he can see you again.

Until he can prove to himself that he hasn’t lost you.

Read chapter eleven here!

☆☆☆☆☆

:((((( i hate myself for hurting the babies so much.. please come scream at me

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[venuslarkspur]

Teen Hero Shenanigans

(like running away and stealing your pseudo sister’s costume and then your brothers bsf decides to come with you, young feelings are complicated yall)

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Twin!Sister reader (platonic) Jon Kent x Reader (romantic)

Picture me this, Reader is Damian’s Twin Sister who gets discharged from being Robin (She says fired, Bruce says discharged) shortly after Damian is brought back home after running away. Reader kind of feels guilty for wanting her twin to reject the role so she can stay as the Girl Wonder, but no he takes back the mantle, (which is like being left in the desert without water), her other siblings and batfam high key felt this was a bit cold of Bruce (especially Steph since she herself was also fired from being Robin)

The rest of her siblings just walk on eggshells cause they know what’s happened and try and comfort her but Reader gets so fed up of all the smothering and being fired being shoved in her face, so she literally just takes her phone and a couple essentials and whilst everyone’s asleep sneaks into the Batcave and steals one of the Batgirl costumes (specifically Barbara’s old purple and yellow one, as she was now going back to her identity as Oracle) and flees deciding she’s going to prove her worth by setting up post elsewhere and becoming the newest Batgirl. (While simultaneously sending her family into a worry)

(Not at all comic book canon but instead of Tim reclaiming the role the reader comes along costume ready since Tim needs to do something else besides being Robin 😭)

I thought about it and I thought it would be so cute for reader to have Jon Kent as a love interest, (there’s not enough Twin!Batsis x Jon Kent) like imagine being friends with Y/N Wayne and she announces she’s running away to go lead the rough life but you don’t want her to leave so you come with her and create double trouble together. (Would create so much drama considering his friendship with Damian) also I would age up Reader and Damian to be about 16 (since Dc aged Jon up and we can’t have nice things so they leave Damian the same)

It would be even funnier if Bruce and Clark connected the dots and both desperately want to be wrong until Oracle taps into the security footage of Metropolis where you were last seen and you and Jon are coming out of your little operations base and the whole Batcave is like “oh hell.” (Damian is convinced you kidnapped Jon and that the Lazarus Pit madness is getting to you, he’s still going to pin it all on Jon like your his only twin pff)

Reader won’t and will never kill again, yes she’s pissed at her father but even when her and her brother were with the League she never particularly liked the killing, now she’s grown to become very verbal of the no killing rule. Reader isn’t worried though, if things get too out of hand and she accidentally nearly slips up Jon will be there to put her back on track and bring her back to reality.

This all probably ends with them getting caught and turning themselves in because at the end of the day they are both just kids who miss their respective families. (Even Reader)

We also need more Cass x Batsis love (platonic) so I’m going to include some of that. But yeah. I need to write this shit now.

This is gonna be so dramatic but so funny at the same time.

(The prologue is out!)

[miifu666]

What do you think suklha and Wukong kid would look like if they did have one ? 🤔 …..Celestial realm one fear after hearing those two are courting each other 👀

Theres 2 reasons, i believe they would have a child.

1. Yandere! Wukong AU.

2. It was an accident. A GENUINE accident

_____

CW : mentions of abortion, body dysphoria, weird descriptions of pregnancy, Im trying to write it as how Suklha would view it as so it might be uncomfortable, Pregnant Monkey Suklha Doodles?

Lets say its the Latter, should Suklha accidentally drank the water of fertility and somehow had sex with Wukong. She will try to abort the child, out of respect for their life, not out of disgust. Its a child thats created by a creature from within and outside of this universe, to bear one means to conceive a natural disaster. A sort of Red boy and his samadhi fire. But this time, it can sever through time and erase everything from History, a true personification of the end of death and end of life.

Even as Wukong tried to fight the logical side of Suklha, she would insist on not keeping the child. Preferring to care for the mountain cubs than creating such a trigger. "out of the safety for this wretched world" she would claim, but also a part of her is afraid of what outcome, what probability should come once she does give birth.

It is definitely something the Celestials wouldn't want happening. They'll stop at nothing to try and destroy a pregnant Suklha, in which case is also in monkey form. To ensure the child won't be an amalgamation of anthropod and mammal, a combination of two completely different animal kingdoms that shouldn't exist.

Throughout the pregnancy, Suklha would try to lay low with the cubs following her around, and a couple of Wukong's clones being at her beck and call. One would walk beside her, and the other stayed hidden, out of plain sight. Should Wukong have other businesses to attend to. Suklha would eat more than possible, focusing her mind and ability to stop her own body from absorbing the fetus inside and claiming its DNA, Shes not a normal being. Her flesh eats whatever it's hosts give, including the fetus. If she slows down, theres a high chance her body would start consuming it and implement their DNA to make Suklha stronger.

She starts Wearing long and loose garments to walk around the estate, Suklha tries to hide the wretching feeling of carrying something inside of her. She's already dealt with her identity crisis, and now the thought of something living and itching inside is giving her nausea at every second. The pregnancy won't last much, as the combination of her pure Centipede features and current Monkey form will take around 4-6 months.

Should the child come, it would be the day all hell broke loose. With the underworld using its knowledge on destroying Suklha's vessel, to the Celestials who would try and take the child away, only to keep it in a capsule buried deep within the earth's core. As they have planned, use anything in their arsenal to destroy whatever hope the Monkey king and the messenger have. In this time, Suklha checked the probability and successfully ran to one of the dragons that she kept in touch with. A plan that the celestials wouldn't figure out, to be an opposite of how you usually am. A dragon of the South, A Lady of the red who runs a small village as their protector.

Suklha would soon give birth in the village, particularly in one of the Lady Dragon's estate. While Wukong would try to fight off the several armies, theres a few fake clones of Suklha around Flower Fruit mountain hiding to act as a decoy. The laboring process is enough to shake the heavens. there's a slight tear in the fabric of the universe at each scream, small cracks forming around Suklha as she continues to push out the child inside of her.

Even as the days go by, with the child growing as a cub. Suklha will continue to rest, its important in chinese tradition for the newly mothers to be confined within their bed for 30 days. Such will Suklha forego, resting to heal her own vessel and the corruption of energy she split in order to create the child. While Wukong and the red lady went and care for the cub.

I haven't thought much about the child, i think she'll be someone who is spiteful and energetic (as she should, her parents basically are. It should be a genetic trait atp) but still friendly and cheerful, a glance of her attitude, and you'd never expect she'll scream and curse like a sailor with a cheeky face.

Connsidering both of her own parents are revered gods and beings, she would be bold enough to not get intimidated by mere threats. Prone to lashing out violently, should things "isn't logical at all!!"Despite her bold and strong-willed attitude, she's smart enough to understand the things her mom would give. A small advice and she'll see it how her mom would do it.

A contradiction is what she is. Appear cold and withdrawn when you see her around, yet quickly changes once she warms up to you. Showing a more childlike and jovial side. Someone who shines like the sun under daylight, a being unlike any other beneath the moonlight.

A child who has both the ability of Sun Wukong and Suklha, a mix of Trickery and Knowledge. A child of Sorcery, eager to spread knowledge through the world, she is the reason why humanity is hell bent on discovery the maddness within the void. The truth behind the lies, since her birth humanity has been deriven to madness and delusions far more often than it should.

[the-faceless-bride]

can i have yandere clawd and deuce poly 😪 iltsm( i love yr writing ur one of my fav writers btw 💞)

Omg. I love both of them so much. 🥩🐍 Bluckle the FUCK up, it's a long one. I love them so much. I gave each their own section as to how this started, then the poly together. If you want more of them... Please... Please ask me. P.s. sorry about all the monster puns, I couldn't help myself

🌕New Ghoul in School🐍

Warnings: OOC Clawd, OOC Duce, OOC Cleo?, OOC Draculaura? Clawd being a kicked puppy, yandere content, controlling behavior, turning to stone, non-con hugging, cuddling and Kisses, forced closeness, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR!, accusations of cheating, emotional cheating?

Characters : Clawd × Reader × Duce

Proof read : nope

Requested?: yes

You had just transferred from your normie school, Turns out people are so accepting of finding out you're a monster. So you transferred to Monster High, and being a new ghoul didn't seem so hard until you tripped an orange werecats tail and she picked a fight with you...

"and just Who, do you think you are? I don't know how you are your Normie friends play, but you don't want to mess with me Ghoul. I'll make you sorry-"

"why don't you go and pick on someone your own size Torilie?"

"yeah, Dude. Not cool."

🐾🐍 • and that's how it started. Just two Mansters defending the New Ghoul. They knew Torilie was one to pick fights and figured they would help you stay out of trouble for the time being. And the three of you became three peas in a pod. And while you all thought it was great, their Ghoulfriends... Had other ideas.

🐍🕶️ • Cleo started having problems as soon as you had arrived. Your first day she already knew who you were, what you were, where you came from, and if you were cool enough to be popular and associate with the Ghouls she does. And she deemed you not worthy. And that was putting a strain on your friendship.

🐍🕶️ • Duce was grown increasingly tired and frustrated. He loved Cleo, he did. But she could be... Emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausting. When they go out he has to change his personality to not embarrass her, she dictates who can can hang out with and when, and he has to constantly hear from her that he should be doing as she asks and says and do it happily as she goes against what her family wants to be with him. He doesn't want to do that anymore. He wants to be able to Shoot Hoops with Clawd, sit with Jackson at lunch, and talk about the Hissstory test. Listen to whatever playlist Holt made or play dodgeball with Slow Mo. Without Cleo saying when he can and can't.

But he just can't leave her. He's become so dependent on her. Hell, the last time She went to Scarise without him, he nearly went crazy as he didn't know what to do. He couldn't leave Cleo. Even if he wanted to... Unless. Maybe he didn't need to be dependent on her. Maybe. He could be dependent on you.

🐍🕶️ • Duce began to test the waters, which was the start of his obsession. For example at lunch when Cleo tells him to get the green eyed Salad and a water, he'll then turn around and ask you... Sometimes when you feel the burn of Cleo's raging stare you won't respond or say the same as Cleo, but on the days you don't pay attention or to stressed to care you recommend the meat plant sandwich and the yummy razzberry soda pop you've been drinking the past few days. And he'll pick your recommendation. And it Infuriates Cleo. He likes that with you, he has a choice, where Cleo demands and tells. You offer and recommend.

🐍🕶️ • this intimately ends in an explosive argument that Spectra has a field day covering. And Duce does something, not him. Her. Or anyone else in the school say coming. "I'm breaking up with you Cleo." a long still silence fills the halls as everyone takes a moment to process what he just said. Before Cleo screams and storms away, and Duce... Doesn't feel as heartbroken as he thought he should.

🐍🕶️ • Duce starts spending most if not all his free time with you and Clawd, well. Mostly you as Clawd gets called from Draculaura a lot. And while he's sad he can't spend more time with Clawd he's happy to spend time with you. You help groom his snakes, you help him pick which sunglasses he should wear each day, (even though they are all just different shades of red) as well as his many band sweaters. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially with Spectra's gossip site.

"Duce trades princess for new Ghoul?! Stay tuned for the possible new hot relationship??"

🐾🌕 • when Clawd first met you he thought you were great! He got a new friend to hang out with! Sure Manny, Heath, Gill, and Duce we're cool but Clawd has a thing for fashion and self-care, that's not something he really talks about with them BUT that's OK! cuz now he can talk about it with you! He ended up spending a bit of free time with you, anytime Draculaura was out and shopping or just Fanging out with her Ghoulfriends or catching up with her Cousin, he would spend his afternoon with you. Getting his hair straightened and trimmed, getting manicures so his nails don't get too sharp and ridged. And eventually, when he's comfortable with you, he'll start playing games. Like fetch or chase. The only issue is that when Duce started to come around more and Cleo trying to keep him on a leash, slowly Draculaura started calling him and needed him more and more. He didn't think much of it, until Duce's big breakup with Cleo. A week later Draculaura wouldn't leave him alone for a second, and anytime you started approaching she took his hand and pulled him in another direction.

🐾🌕 • it started becoming draining, he loves spending time with his Ghoulfriend. He truly did. But not when every two seconds she was hinting and implying all the time he spent with you was him creeping around behind her back. Nothing he did or said made her change her mind, now everything he did seemed to set her off. She was so paranoid, that he went out of his way to make her a gift to show that he loved her, but he accidentally made it worse, he had to try and hold back tears and puppy cries as she said, "Bad Clawd!" over and over while tugging his ear. He doesn't understand what he did wrong, he just made a new friend. You nor him did anything. So why was she being like this?

Any attempts to talk about it were shut down, as she tried keeping him away from you. And he just couldn't take it anymore, he liked being clingy but he was clingy because he genuinely wanted to be around his partner not just sticking to them like glue-watching like a hawk to 'catch them in the act'. He would go as far as to say this was worse than the time he was dumped for Valentine the love manipulator.

🐾🌕 • Clawd began to confide in you, Draculaura wouldn't listen to him so he was happy you did. He spent hours just sitting under a tree at the back of the school with you, drawing doodles in the dirt, ears tucked back to his head as he vented about his feelings and how the recent arguments had affected him, you tried to help every time. But eventually, word got to Draculaura about your little meetings, and stormed over one day with her ghoulfriends in toe.

Both you and Clawd had to endure the burning glare of the Ghouls, Draculaura ranting and raving and ultimately giving him an ultimatum. You or her. And Clawd's ears pinned flat to his head, he didn't want to lose his Ghoulfriend but he didn't want to lose you either. But before he could answer Draculaura said something that gave him the push to his ultimate answer. "ugh, I should've known! A guy hangs out with other guys like him! And Duce is a lying, dirty, cheater and so are you! And this new Ghoul sure has some nerve to go around sneaking with other Mansters knowing they are dating someone! If that's the kind of Manster you are Clawd then maybe... Eh *hick* MaYbe we shouldn't Be togEther!" a moment passes where Clawd looks down into Draculaura's wet violet eyes, sighs, then answers. "maybe we shouldn't." the ghoul's Gasp and Draculaura sobs, "FINE! WE ARE OVER!"

🐾🌕 • Clawd thought relieved he wouldn't be interrogated every day and being told he's bad, he's still heartbroken that the Ghoul he thought he'd spend his life with was gone. He clung to you and Duce for security and long talks to make him feel better and eventually, he did. Clawd was back to his peppy, wide-eyed, excitable self again. In fact, he's the happiest he's been. His mood wasn't Even shaken when he found out Draculaura had begun dating his sister, he just didn't care. He was happy.

🐾🌕 • It wasn't until a late-night Chat; that you and Clawd had stayed over at Duce's house after seeing a new skinwalker Scareitage Boovie that Clawd discovered that not only He had feelings for you but so did Duce... And well, he had always liked Duce maybe even more than just a bro, but this changed everything. And they agreed. A scarily wonderful idea...

"Vampy puts doggy out for good? Or does Doggy like the Dog house with his chew toy?"

🐍🐾 • now Duce and Clawd are softer yandere's than the normal. But that doesn't mean they won't use force if they need to. Duce is a Dependant, laid-back, stalker-type yandere. He's ok with letting you have wiggle room as long as he knows where you are at all times and can get to you in a short period. Whereas Clawd is a Clingy, overprotective, worshiper-type Yandere. Clawd wants to be near you all the time if you let him, but he's ok with letting you go for a while as long as he has Duce he always knows where you are because Duce knows, if at any point Duce doesn't know for some reason or he's not around Duce to find out, he'll use his nose to track you down.

🐍🐾 • You probably wouldn't know they are yandere's unless you start trying to spend more time with others that aren't them. The more you try and hang out with Operetta and Cupid they start to get a little more aggressive and demanding of your time and attention. Which can trigger some alarm bells that something isn't right. The best thing would be to try and talk and compromise they are willing to do that as long as you promise to let them keep tabs "for safety reasons," and you spend time with them immediately after.

🐍🐾 • after a month or two they start to be more openly affectionate and act like a Throuple, it went over your head at first with Duce's laid-back attitude and Clawd's over-excitable personality being normal, but the more Clawd wanted to play fetch and hug you, and Duce constantly being around you despite having the freedom to hang out with his other dudes you start to get the idea they might be romantically interested.

🐍🐾 • You opened to the idea, and the relationship seemed to be working well... Until they started to become, overwhelming. Clawd always over your shoulder, Duce always seeming to know where you are... Even when you didn't tell him where you were. And things took a turn when you tried to tell them you needed space. "You're... Breaking up... With us?" you sputtered, you definitely didn't answer and deny fast enough as you felt your body start to stiffen and cold. Duce had turned you to stone. Clawd whimpered while holding your cold stiff stone body, "im sorry sweetheart. But we can't have you running from us. Just be good ok? Please?" after that you'd been chained to them by that point. Nobody would've believed you if you told them the school's Cool guy and oversized puppy were forcing you into a relationship...

🐍🐾 • they aren't too harsh on punishments. For the most part. Once you tried to run away once, you waited for a moment to be alone before printing off trying to get somewhere, anywhere but there. But you forgot who you were dealing with and Clawd chased you down. Clawd's punishments involve many forced hugs, kisses, and closeness. If he shows how much he loves you at some point you'll see it's true and love him too! Right?

Duce will turn you to stone anytime he gets an idea you're about to run off. He makes Clawd drag you to his house. Which takes a lot of manipulation and convincing. Clawd doesn't want to lock you away to be alone. He wants you to be around them! But Duce scares him into going along with it. Even sometimes provokes him to anger to be more willing to lock you in a dirty old basement.

🐍🐾 • overall. As long as you stay and promise to love them, and don't mind clinginess it's a cute relationship... But if you reject them, you'll spend a lot of time in an old basement in Duce's home, alive but unable to move. To feel. Or scream.

[erwinsvow]

“what the hell are you wearin’?” rafe asks, and you spin around, your water bottle almost slipping from your grip and falling on the ground. 

you steady yourself, twisting the cap back on, staring up at sarah’s brother. only one thought was floating around in your head—that you need to stop running into rafe like this.

“asked you a question.” he looks you over, eyes glued to your body, a tight long-sleeved white shirt and baby blue shorts resting just below the crease of your hips. the shorts are high-waisted and your shirt is cropped, with only a sliver of the skin of your abdomen peeking through. he thinks there’s just enough space there to rest his hand. 

he gets closer—he always does, and you’re never sure how he ends up so close. you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating from you, face warm, feeling like you’ve just finished a workout when you haven’t even left yet.

“um, it’s for the class. sarah and i are going.”

“you go to class in these clothes?” you hold back a quiet laugh, a smile taking over.

“pilates class, rafe.” 

“hm.” you bite your cheek, looking up at him carefully. “you really gonna go out in this?” 

your face feels hot. rafe is only a foot away from you now, his hand leaning on the counter where your matching blue yoga mat and water bottle are resting. you look down at your clothes, reflecting on how you thought it was so cute earlier today, when you were getting dressed at home. the small, sneaky part of your brain that always tied everything back to rafe had been dwelling on the idea that he would see your nice outfit and spend time thinking about it, about you. the way rafe is talking you regret putting it on.

“what’s wrong with my clothes?” you question, feeling your eyes get watery as you look back up at him. it’s stupid really, any sentence from rafe can make you cry. you’re too attached to what he thinks about you. 

“you can barely call 'em clothes.” you suck in a deep breath, tears threatening to spill down. rafe glances over your body once again. “not too keen on letting anyone see you like this. should just be for me, right?”

you feel your lips part in surprise, blinking stupidly while rafe laughs a little—he’s still so close, you feel the rumble of it, everything moving slowly while he brings his hand to your waist, pulling you in a little closer.

“asked you another question. gotta get better at answerin’ me.”

“uh-huh,” you say, nodding. you don’t know what he asked you, the words fading away while you think of how it would only take a few more inches, one more step, to be so close to rafe your lips would be touching. he laughs again, maybe at you, but you don’t care.

“you gonna let someone else see you in this?” you shake your head. “good girl.” 

he doesn’t kiss you, instead he pulls away, and walks towards the other side of the counter. you feel your heart fall into your stomach at the disappointment, the built-up anticipation fading away into nothing. your back tingles where rafe was touching you. 

sarah walks into the kitchen, looking at you and then at her brother. she ignores rafe, coming to your side of the counter.

“ready to go?”

“i’m not feeling so good. think i’m gonna stay back today.” if sarah has any doubts that her brother influenced your decision to stay home, she doesn’t say anything. after she leaves, you finally look back up at rafe. he comes back to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, hand finding its way to your waist again, playing with the fabric of your shirt. 

“you're a real good girl, you know that?" you nod. "c’mon.”

he guides you upstairs, and like always, you follow.

[tonyboneysblog]

MOTHER HEN: PART SEVEN

parings: hawks x mother!reader

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: none

notes: daddy’s…home? genuinely so excited to write the next chapter cause if you notice the timeline, something big is coming😈😈

summary: you, the mother of Fumikage Tokoyami, are just a simple nurse! Who caught the eye of a certain pro.

You haven’t gotten a text from hawks in the past four days, which puts you in a sour mood.

technically it’s a little bit of your fault for kissing his forehead- but if the little shit would have just let you explain…

what’s even worse is that your unable to watch the sports festival- fucking hospital job.

And when you finally get home from that hellhole, Fumikage will be sassy cause you weren’t able to watch him.

He wouldn’t be angry just..slightly disappointed?

Then when you cuddled up in your nest yesterday you see that damned hawks plush you spent 30 dollars on…

So here you are at this amazing place of work! against your will of course.

Currently you’re at the water station- until you were rudely pulled away due to a pro hero getting hurt…as usual.

You open the door to see a younger, dark skinned woman with white hair and the cutest bunny ears on her head.

She looks at you and starts waving happily…your heart would feel warm if it weren’t for the blood on her face.

“Names Mirko!” Oh, you know her! Your sister used to be obsessed with her…well for a short period of time but still obsessed no the less.

“Mirko, how you feeling today?”

She sends you a thumbs up, “terrible!”

You chuckle softly and walk over towards her, accompanying another one of the doctors.

“What’s her condition?”

The doctor sighs, “nothing too serious, we ought to check her for a concussion though..and she’ll have to at least spend one night here.”

“With those injuries it should be longer no?”

The doctor shakes his head, “can’t keep Mirko tied down for too long.” Then proceeds to just…walk out.

But Mirko doesn’t let it stay too quiet.

“So, your name is?”

You smile softly, “ Y/N Tokoyami.”

Mirko looks like she’s pondering for a moment..looks as if she knows you from somewhere.

“I swear I’ve heard that name before..” she says quietly.

You smile again, “you probably have, so is there anything you need?”

Mirko puts her attention back onto you, “nah, I’ll be alright.”

“Really, Why’d the doctor call me in then?”

“Because I complained my ass hurt, I’ve been laying in bed all day.”

You chuckle, “that all?”

She nods her head quickly.

“Well, let’s hope you don’t get a bed sore kay?” You shoot a thumbs up towards her, same she did to you earlier.

Then you walk out, wondering why she even needed you…

But Mirko knew why, hawks told her you were nurse and she wanted to she what all the fuss was about.

Truthfully, he’d been talking about you every time she saw him while on patrol.

She supposes his ramblings are correct, you’re cute.

Then again Mirko has never really pinned hawks as the mamas boy type, and you echo the motherly type.

But you’re sweet, maybe that’s why he’s so attracted to you?

So, Mirko pulls out her phone to bother hawks about his little high school boy crush.

she took it the the group chat though, little asshole.

BEST PROS.

carrot foot

Found ur gf hawks

caw caw bitch

what

caw caw bitch

where

jorts

who?

carrot foot

Hospital

INCOMING FACETIME CALL

Mirko sighs and answers it.

“Where is she, she look cute?” Hawks says frantically.

Mirko shakes her head, “again hawks, get a grip.”

Mirko can hear the wind howling into the phone, of course hawks is flying while on the phone.

“Answer me.” Hawks says sternly.

Mirko immediately starts rambling about the very small amount of information she has on you, “Damn you got a mommy kink or something, cause that woman is a MILF. I mean M.I.L.F.”

“What- what the hell does…no?” Mirko can pick on hawks confusion through the phone.

“Hawks, man, that woman echos mother. Here she is mothering throughout the halls of a hospital!”

“Mirko, what’s your point here.”

“I mean she’s hot dude, get your head in the game…or in her i don’t-“

Mirko can then her hawks yelling loudly out of shock, “GROSS MIRKO, DONT MAKE JOKES LIKE-“

If he yelled any louder you could probably hear him in the halls.

Mirko laughs loudly, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m joking.”

Then there’s an uncomfortable silence on the phone, a little too long for comfort.

but then of course hawks breaks it- as him usually does.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

Mirko starts laughing again, “aha! Damn dirty bird- go get your wings ruffled elsewhere man!”

Hawks responds quickly, ignoring Mirko comment.

“I gotta go- I see a best jeanist and I’d like to go pull his ear.”

Mirko huffs, “fine, but he isn’t your wingman-I am.”

Hawks laughs softly and hangs up, leaving Mirko in silence.

Until you walk in.

“Oh, there’s my favorite nurse!” She beams.

“Do you mind if I watch the sports festival in here? My kids in it..”

Mirko nods her head, “I don’t mind- need to look for recruits anyways.”

So, there you and Mirko sit watching the sports festival together.

Many times throughout it you had to put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and alerting the others your not technically working at the moment.

but during every break in the sports festival, you rushed and did your actual duties as quickly as you could.

Then when you came back, and the 1V1 battles have already started.

And of course your gorgeous boy conquers and destroys the competition.

One after another, what was most surprising to you was seeing todorokis and midoriyas fight, aggressive and raw.

made you vividly remember that was the boy who tripped on his own ice..

You were a little scared that’d he have to face your Fumikage.

Instead it was Katsuki Bakugo who faced him, and after that fight he’ll be the only kid who doesn’t get your end-of-semester cookies.

I mean cmon! Grabbing your son by the beak?! Unbelievable…angers you to your core because who does he think he is?!

But it’s fine.

Fumikage would’ve won if it were anyone else.

But Fumikage still got third, and you can shove it in all your friend’s faces that your son is awesome and that they could never.

Because Fumikage is one of a kind.

You look over to Mirko after jumping for joy for your son’s new shiny medal.

“He’s a good fighter, y’know I know someone all birdy like that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea, hawks.” She says bluntly.

You can feel the color drain from your face, hawks low key, high key broke your heart after your last interaction.

“Oh… well I’m sure Fumikage will consider an invitation from him.- if he wanted to work with him.” You say while tapping your fingers together.

Mirko pulls out her phone, typing something, you don’t know exactly what but…it’s whatever.

carrot foot

yea your cooked bud

caw caw bitch

what

Mirko seats down her phone next to the table, where you can hear it buzzing loudly…

“Uhm are you gonna check that?” You say nervously.

“Nah, he’s fine.” She says as she finally relaxes into the bed she had been complaining about all day apparently.

“Ah…okay?” You then hop out of the seat, making your way back to your work.

You should get him an apple pie to celebrate, or maybe just straight apples cause Fumikage will go crazy either way.

Hawks briefly crossed your mind again, what was his favorite again? Wasn’t apples you know what…it was probably something dumb- just like him…

dumb, dumb, dumb man.

enough of him, you have work to do…

right after you call Fumikage!

It rings, but he doesn’t answer? Which is weird because Fumikage always answers his phone unless it’s dead.

Yes that’s probably why, he’ll call you right back when it charges.

But Fumikages phone was in-fact not dead, he was just…distracted?

Fumikages eyes squint slightly, “What could you possibly want.”

It’s hawks he’s being so standoffish with, but hawks just sends him a soft smile.

“It’s the sports festival, of course I’d be here.”

“You decide to stalk me instead of my mother?”

Hawks goes quiet, his carefree smile faltering.

“Not exactly..we got in a small spat.”

“If you’re trying to get me to talk to her for you, it’s not gonna work.” Fumikage starts to walk away before hawks grabs his shoulder.

Then dark shadow comes out.

Hawks steps off slightly, “that’s kinda freaky…”

“Kinda like your face.”

Dark shadow looks over to Fumikage, “that wasn’t even a good comeback.”

“Shut up dark shadow.”

Dark shadow scoffs and folds his cute little shadow arms with what looks to be a pout on his face.

Hawks face completely loses the carefree smile, “I’m serious when I say I’m not here for you…well not technically.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Yea, what do you-“

“Dark shadow…”

Hawks lets out a small breath, “I was interested in you being my sidekick due to the skills you showed off on the fie-“

“Not interested” Fumikage says curtly.

Dark shadow whips his head over to look at Fumikage with surprise, whispering something in his ear.

“He’s number three- you can’t just reject an offer from him!”

“I can, and I just did.”

Then it’s silent, Fumikage doesn’t mind though.

Hawks sighs softly, putting back on the smile Fumikage hates so much.

“Well if you ever rethink it, my agency will always be open.”

“I hope retribution comes for you in the darkness of your home.”

Hawks stays quiet but then his face twists into confusion, “what does that even mean..?”

Fumikage huffs and if he had hair he would most likely flip it whilst walking away.

Fumikage leaves hawks standing outside, utterly confused in what Fumikage was even talking about.

Maybe that’s what you meant when you said Fumikage was unique…

speaking of you, you were still at that darn hospital.

Fumikage was aware of that, you always worked a lot but the times that you weren’t working you tried your best to spend them with him.

Until Mr. Pro-Hero decided to come into your life..

The first time Fumikage really noticed your relationship with hawks was when you had the talk on the balcony.

He knew he wasn’t going crazy when he thought someone was under a blanket, a blanket you don’t even use may he add.

Then the next day when he went up to your balcony, the blanket was in-fact no where to found.

Then he caught him in your kicthen, Fumikage debated on even eating the cookies because maybe hawks terrible aura rubbed off on them.

They were delicious but that’s not the point!

Then hawks wanders into Fumikages home, which was locked, uninvited looking for you.

Only time Fumikage could tolerate hawks was when he had to save you from the bar.

But then his tolerance shot down when he walked in on the two of you coddling each other.

Then he heard the “little spat” you and hawks had which is why he rushed into your room so fast.

Honestly, who does that damn fowl think he is?!

Fumikage explains all of this to poor dark shadow, who truly just wanted to watch a movie with him.

“Sounds rough.” Dark shadow says quietly.

Fumikage huffs, “It’s worse than rough dark shadow, it’s appalling.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so…extreme with hawks- Momma seems to like him.”

“Correction, liked, my mother will never participate in any romances with that man again.”

Fumikage ends the conversation there, but dark shadow would like to expand on the topic.

“It was nice of hawks to offer you that side kick position.”

“well being nice doesn’t cut it.”

Finally, the conversation about hawks is finished, Fumikage only ranted for 4 hours this time!

And he’d finished 3 movies in that time as well…maybe the hospital will let you off early.

So Fumikage and dark shadow fight the urge to rest, which they both utterly fail and fall asleep on the couch.

You come in around 5:30 so they never stood a chance, not after the day Fumikage had.

You walk into the door, spotting only Fumikage.

You stumble over towards him, sitting on the floor and brushing your hand through his feathers.

Fumikage is knocked out, so he won’t wake up if you pick him up.

You use all your remaining strength to pick Fumikage up, making your way towards your bedroom.

It’s been a minute since Fumikage got cuddles from his mama.

And also you seriously doubt you could carry Fumikage back to his room, then walk back to yours without passing out onto the floor.

You place Fumikage under the warm covers, then yourself.

You then wrap your hands around Fumikage as tightly as you possible could, as if someone would take him away if you didn’t.

Then you rest, same as Fumikage.

Same as hawks.

And hawks truly needs to thank you for whatever you did to make him stop having those nightmares.

barely dreams now, and if he does it’s always weird shit.

usually has you in it too.

nevermind, you probably cursed him and overrode whatever put that nightmare spell on him.

a curse that just makes him dream about you.

Now he really wishes he talked Mirko into getting a picture of you, he misses you bad.

Maybe a text wouldn’t hurt? No, too risky- you’re probably still mad at him.

Maybe he could worm his way back into your life with that weighted blanket, if his plan worked he could probably steal it back anyways.

It still smells like you, which is weird because he’s had it for awhile.

That’s probably his favorite part of the day now, getting home, taking a shower, cuddling into his mostly bare bed and just sniffing that shit like it’s coke.

Kinda like how some people spray lavender onto their beds to get sleepy, he just smells the hell out of that blanket.

He wishes he was able to snatch another item from your house that smelled like you.

Fumikage doesn’t really smell like you, he noticed.

He smells kinda like wood? And also a little fruity too.

You wouldn’t really guess fruits and flowers from looking at him but maybe your scent rubbed off on him too.

Honestly, hawks kinda feels like Edward when Bella first walked into that classroom though- hawks wouldn’t be covering his mouth to avoid the smell, he would be INHALING that smell.

He would never admit that the night that he comforted you out on that balcony he didn’t even go home and change, he kept that uniform on.

The coat didn’t truly smell like you, but the under shirt did.

Maybe he’s going a little crazy, sure he’s real kept together most the time but- the things you do to that poor man.

And Mirko- peacefully sleeping in the hospital, she may be hawks wingman but she needs her rest too!

And when you wake, you’ll have to go right back to the hospital.

doesn’t men’s you can’t talk to your son before you leave though.

“Mama.” Fumikage says sleepily, awoken from you moving all around the room.

You perk up now your son’s awake, “Fumikage?”

Fumikages eyes a still closed, fighting to go back to sleep.

“Did you see me, in the sports festival?”

You run your hands through Fumikages feathers, “Course’ I did.”

Fumikage smiles softly, “guess who talked to me after..?”

“All might? I saw it on-“

“No it was hawks, invited me for an internship.”

You jaw slacks slightly, “did you accept?”

“No, not after what he’s done.” Fumikage says with a little rasp in his own voice.

“You should’ve.”

“What?”

You sigh, “hawks is number three- doesn’t matter what he did to me Fumikage.

Fumikage stays silent, suddenly now regretting telling you.

“But…”

You kiss his temple, “thank you for thinking about how I’d feel though. Don’t let my emotions or relationships get in the way of your future.”

Fumikage nods, understanding your point of view.

“Are you leaving for work?”

“Yep, it’s not a long shift though.”

You open your bedroom door, “I’ll see you later, Fumi.”

Then walking out of your own house, making your way to the hospital.

Once you walk in, your infact greeted with Mirko!

and hawks.

“Ah, my favorite nurse!” Mirko cheers excitedly.

“Mirko! Shouldn’t you still be on bed rest?”

Mirko chuckles, “glad you’re worried about me toots.”

You gasp a small bit at the nickname, “Oh!”

Mirko places her hand onto her hip, “Hey, didn’t I see you hear like 7 hours ago, why you already back?”

“Duty calls?”

Hawks chuckles at that, wasn’t even funny.

Mirko throws an arm around hawks, “this was the birdy boy I was talking about!”

“We’ve met.”

suddenly there was an awkward silence.

Hawks wanted to throw himself out a window, you wouldn’t even look at him.

Mirko taps her foot nervously.

“Hawks…” you say his name softly.

His head perks up form Mirko hold, “yeah?”

“Sorry that Fumikage rejected you…I know how he is.”

Hawks can feel his heart beating in his ears, “it’s all good- doors always open.”

You nod softly, looking away.

The three of you just stand there in silence, Mirko foot tapping repeats.

Then she breaks, “Mrs Tokoyami, sorry for holding you up-You got a job to do!”

You jump in surprise, “ah- your right, it was nice talking to you both!”

You quickly walk away to clock in, Mirko and hawks make there way outside.

She scoffs, “had the perfect opportunity.”

Hawks rolls his eyes, “I wasn’t gonna apologize to her in a hospital.

“I’m going to put you in the hospital/ what the hell even was that back there?!” Mirko exclaims.

Hawks pushes her arm away, “I was nervous.”

“Doors always open!” Mirko mocks him.

“Oh quiet down.”

“I’m your wingwoman- giving you a perfect chance and you fuck it all up.”

“It wasn’t that bad-“

Mirko smacks the back of his head, “Hawks, shut your trap.”

Hawks doesn’t reply, walking next to Mirko throughout the less populated areas of town.

Mirko snaps her fingers, “You know what, I can fix this.”

“You can?”

“Of course I can, I’m Mirko.”

Hawks groans softly, already annoyed by the days events.

Mirko starts her plan, “clearly she cares a good bit about her son-but there feeling are mostly separated for different things.”

Hawks nods along.

“So instead of getting all cushy with her son again, you need to fix it with her- clearly your not gonna getting through with her son based on what you told me earlier.-“

Hawks interrupts, “her son is always home though.”

“Don’t interrupt me, he goes to U.A. I bet they have some trip for passing the exam.”

“How are we supposed to find that out?”

Mirko groans, “let me talk, I’m always going to that hospital for some reason- I’ll find something out…she likes me unlike you.”

Hawks looks away with a pout, “Don’t say that…”

“I’ll say whatever I want, I’m your wingwoman.”

Hawks and Mirko continue their walk up until they get to his agency, since Mirko doesn’t have one.

Though Mirko continues walking, “See ya later, Hawkey.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my house?- don’t fuck up anything else while I’m gone.”

Hawks huffs lightly, walking into his own office.

He has so much paper work to do, then the commission will be badgering him later for “doing it wrong” according to them.

He can’t wait to just be home.

Be home next to you.

or…your blanket at the very least?

…he really needs to fix this.

TAG LIST: comment to be tagged!

@lost-in-horrorland @boopjuice @validveenus @qardasngan @arminsarlerts @star-the-rabid-dog @bunni-teeth81 @lightsgore @portgasdbruh @camejlo-35 @marsbars09 @tharae514 @yoongiwantsme @kimahrii @pink-jello-fish @l1vvvvv @0-seonghwa-0

if I still somehow didn’t include you in the tag list, just go ahead to ask box! :D

(seonghwa, I’m so sorry if it didn’t tag you because I genuinely couldn’t find your blog for the life of me ): )

[azzifudd]

i don't wanna see you with anyone but me

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed.

rated: teen

3.0k words

disclaimer: as always, this is fictional

[AO3 Link]

Azzi gets nervous before games. She always has. No matter how low or high the stakes, whether it’s a regular season game against a team clearly a cut below her own or the state championships, the moment she sets foot on the court, her palms break out into a sweat and her stomach churns with nerves.

Today though, she’s not nervous at all. She’s pissed. It’s already been a bad morning. Early morning games are always tough on the team, and they’d gotten to the hotel late last night because of an expected traffic jam, leading to even less sleep.

And now, instead of helping her warm up and hyping her up like she normally is, Paige is at the opposite end of the court giggling with some girl on the other team.

They only have a few weeks left together before Paige has to go home, and instead of being with Azzi, she’s off flirting with someone else.

Azzi takes another shot, grunting when it bounces off the rim. The ref finally blows his whistle, signaling the teams to line up for tip off. Paige starts to walk back toward their side of the court, but not before that girl says goodbye with a hand pressed to Paige’s arm.

Azzi’s petty enough that she pretends she doesn’t see Paige’s offered high five before she runs onto the court.

Azzi plays like a woman possessed. By the time the final buzzer sounds, they’re up 25 points after her efficient 33.

“Okay, killa!” When Paige bounds up to her, bumping into her with her chest and trying to wrap her arms around her, she shrugs her off.

“Why don’t you go comfort your new friend?” Azzi heads to the bench to take a much needed drink of water. Paige trails close behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Her.” Azzi flicks her head in the girl’s direction. Azzi has to admit she’s pretty; with dark skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes. She’d probably enjoyed it a little too much when her crossover had landed the girl on her ass, but like she’s said, she’s petty.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know her.” Paige looks dumbfounded.

“You seemed to know her well enough that you spent all of pregame talking to her instead of helping me warm up.” She tries to keep her voice low, knowing that their voices would echo easily in the gym no matter how loud the other games were.

“She said she was a fan! I was just being nice!” Paige crowds into her space, voice defensive.

“Oh, I’m sure you were.”

“Azzi, come on, you’re being crazy.”

Azzi sees red, elbowing Paige in the stomach, pushing her lanky body out of the way easily. “Get away from me.”

“Fine!” Paige throws up her hands. “Come find me when you’re done being crazy.”

The rest of the day drags as they have to take the long drive home together in the car with Azzi’s family. Her parents clearly want nothing to do with their drama, ignoring the two ticking time bombs in the backseat.

When they finally make it back to the house, Azzi storms inside, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

“So… what happened, big dawg?” Tim asks Paige as she helps him unload their bags from the car.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Paige huffs, frustrated.

“I didn’t say you did.” He replies, patient.

Paige hesitates, suddenly feeling awkward about talking about this with her what are they? her girl? her Azzi’s dad, but he stops her before she has to.

“You don’t have to tell me the details, but give her some time to cool down, and then just talk to her. You know how she can be, I mean both of you are stubborn as hell, but when has she ever stayed mad at you for long?

That’s true. It’s one of the things that Paige likes the most about Azzi, that no matter how annoying Paige is being, Azzi still wants her around.

When they’re done unpacking, Paige goes to find Azzi. She stops in the kitchen to grab some reinforcements. When she gets to Azzi’s door, she hesitates. She’s never had to knock before. But before she even needs to, it opens.

She and Azzi stare at each other for a moment before they’re both blurting out, “I’m sorry.”

Then they’re both giggling and Azzi pulls Paige into her room, shutting the door behind her.

“I brought this, in case you were still mad at me.” Paige holds up a cartoon of ice cream and a spoon.

“Only one spoon?”

“In case you were still mad at me,” Paige repeats. Azzi laughs and tugs Paige over to sit on the bed, where they take turns eating bites of the ice cream.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.” Paige says, wincing as she remembers it. “I shoulda seen how upset you were.”

“And I’m sorry that I overreacted when I saw you talking to someone else.” Azzi twists her fingers together. “I just got so mad when I saw you talking to her. And I know how popular you are, and you deserve every bit of it, but…”

Paige just waits because she knows Azzi needs to talk it out herself, and that she just needs Paige to listen.

“I know it’s selfish, but part of me just wants to keep you to myself. Because as soon as everyone finds out about you, they’re gonna want you.” Azzi glances at Paige then, almost certain she’ll see a cocky grin on her face, but Paige just listens.

Paige gets it. Sometimes someone can just look at Azzi for a second too long and it makes her want to just take Azzi and hide her away. But she can’t, so she just reaches out to hold Azzi’s hand.

There are so many things she wishes she could say to Azzi, things that she can barely stand to consider because they scare the shit out of her.

So she just settles for saying the one thing she knows to be true.

“I’m yours.”

Paige watches Azzi blush, stunned and speechless.

“Can I kiss you now? Lowkey it was so hot how jealous you got.” Paige laughs when Azzi pushes her with a hand to her face.

But then that same hand is gripping at her collar and pulling her on top of Azzi and then there’s no more talking.

//

It’s a Friday night, and Paige is sober.

It’s not the most uncommon occurrence, not anymore. After her ACL, she has learned to be a bit more responsible, a bit more grown up. So when the girls had decided to go out that night, she volunteered to be DD.

And if that gives her a chance to watch over Azzi a little more closely she will take it. The younger girl has been acting off in the past weeks. On the outside, she doubts that anyone else has noticed, but she almost knows Azzi better than she knows herself.

It becomes even clearer that something’s wrong when Azzi returns over and over to the bar, taking way more shots than she usually does.

And now, a few hours into their night, she has disappeared. It’s a small bar, in a small town, so Paige isn’t too worried, but Azzi has never been one to wander off, and especially not on her own.

Paige pokes her head through the door to the back patio which consists of a few picnic tables, lit up with fairy lights. She almost heads back inside when she hears a familiar laugh from the far end of the patio.

When her eyes adjust to the light, she sees Azzi sitting on a table, a tall form looming over her.

“Azzi!” She barks out, strides long as she rushes forward. The figure steps back from her friend, and Paige vaguely recognizes her as one of the members of the girls volleyball team.

“What?!” Azzi fires back, stopping Paige in her tracks.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“I’m talking to a friend.” Paige fights the familiar twist in her stomach at the sight of Azzi’s hand on the other girl’s arm. “Is that okay with you? Or are you the only one allowed to flirt with every woman who throws themselves at you?”

Paige feels like she’s been punched in the gut. She sees a hint of regret on Azzi’s face before she turns her head away.

The stranger looks like she would rather be anywhere else, and Paige would be more embarrassed if she wasn’t so focused on Azzi.

“I’ll see you in class, Azzi?” When Azzi gives a jerky nod in response, the girl takes her leave, giving Paige a cold look as she goes.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy, her cheeks obviously flushed even under the dim lights. She takes a heaving breath, face turned away while she clearly fights tears, and Paige hates that she is the reason for her best friend’s pain.

“Az-” Her hands reach up to find their usual place at Azzi’s waist, but she freezes when Azzi flinches away from her. Her fists clench as she drops them at her side.

“Am I not enough?”

“What?” Paige chokes out. The thought is inconceivable. She reaches out again, grasping at where Azzi has wrapped her arms around herself.

Azzi still isn’t looking her in the eye.

“Azzi, come on.” Paige sighs in relief when Azzi allows her touch, hands warm against the skin exposed by her crop top.

Azzi’s eyes brim with tears. “Can we just forget I said anything?”

That’s when Paige knows something really might be wrong. Azzi is always the one pulling her out of her shell when she’s upset, and she wasn’t usually one to hide her own feelings.

“It’s just us. Me and you.” Paige brings one hand up to cup her jaw and brings their gazes together. “Talk to me. We promised that we’d always talk to each other.”

Azzi takes a deep, steadying breath. And then another.

“I know that we agreed when you came here that we’d pull back and keep it more casual.”

You wanted that! Paige wants to say, but she can’t deny that she took advantage of it, loved it at times even. She can’t deny that sometimes it was nice to be able to talk to, flirt with, and kiss girls who didn’t hold the power to crush her with one word.

But none of those girls ever made her feel even half of how Azzi did, like she could conquer the world if only Azzi was at her side, holding her hand.

“And I know that we decided last year that it was best for the team and for everyone if we just.. didn’t complicate things.”

She keeps it unspoken that it was never that simple, and that it had tested their relationship more than ever having each other so close, but being unable to really be together the way they both hoped the other wanted. And then the season had ended with that devastating loss, and neither of them had had the emotional capacity to deal with all of it.

And then her ACL had happened, and just when Paige had thought that she couldn’t be forced any lower, there was Azzi. Azzi, who had just shown up to hold her, and let her yell and cry, and not be okay, for once.

It still sucks, and there are days where she’s so desperate to play that she cries, but she’s not alone in it. She’ll never be alone again, not as long as she has Azzi. And she knows now, sure as anything, that Azzi is all she’ll ever want.

“I thought something had changed between us this summer, and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready, to tell me you were ready.”

Paige feels like this is a conversation she has been waiting to have for a very long time.

“Do you know what my first thought was the first time I saw you? ”

Azzi huffs in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you shoot a basketball for the first time, and thought, damn, I have to play with her, and then I did, and it was better than I even imagined it would be. Then I got to sit next to you on that plane, and got to really know you, and then I knew that I just wanted you in my life forever. So don’t ever think that you’re not enough. You’re all I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmer with tears, but the smile on her face is radiant. Paige tugs her even closer by the waist until Azzi hooks her arms around her shoulders.

“I wish I was as good with words as you are,” Azzi says, pressing their foreheads together. “I wish I could tell you what you mean to me.”

But Paige doesn’t need Azzi to say it. She can feel it in the way Azzi’s heart pounds against her chest where they are pressed together. She can see it in the way her lips tremble like they’re about to kiss for the first time.

And she can feel it in the way Azzi presses their lips together, like she never wants to stop, like breathing matters less than kissing her.

//

Paige is unzipping her luggage when her phone rings with a Facetime call from KK. She taps accept and as the screen fills with an image, she realizes it isn’t a normal call.

The angle is askew and the camera is out of focus showing a gym with a few figures in the distant background. Somehow KK must’ve accidentally called her. She hears KK’s voice loud and clear joking around with someone with an Australian accent. She smiles, happy that her little freshman is getting along with everyone at the Dawg Camp. She almost hangs up the call when the camera focuses itself and the figures in the background become clear.

They’re a bit far away, but Paige would recognize that form anywhere. Azzi stands at the opposite court putting up shots, though her feet stay planted on the ground. Her stroke is still smooth as butter though, and she’s so strong that the shots swish through the net even if she can’t get off the ground yet.

Someone’s under the net, someone tall with dirty blonde hair, rebounding for Azzi, and she says something, too quiet for Paige to hear from this far away, but she does hear Azzi’s responding laugh.

The sound, one of Paige’s favorite sounds, one that normally never fails to bring a smile to Paige’s face, instead sends an uncontrollable roll of unease through her gut.

She knows it’s irrational, to still get jealous when someone else makes Azzi smile. She’s never been more secure in their relationship than she is now, but apparently that jealous part of her is still alive as she squints down angrily at her phone, watching fucking Kate Martin?! standing way too close to her girl.

“What the hell?” She mutters, and then the phone is moving and KK’s face fills the screen.

“Oh, what the? P. Boogers! My bad, how long have you been on my phone?”

“Kamorea!”

KK jumps from the unexpected growl in Paige’s voice. “Damn what’s gotten up your butt? Say hi to Georgia.”

“Hi,” Paige says, brusquely. She swipes the FaceTime to the corner of the screen, tapping open Instagram and navigating to Azzi’s profile.

“Jeez, tough crowd.” She hears Georgia say as she taps on Azzi’s following, scoffing when she sees Azzi’s most recent follow.

“Dude, lemme talk to Azzi.”

“Y’all fightin’ or somethin’? She seemed all goofy after she talked to you last night.” KK thinks for a second. “Oh was it because you were cheesin’ at those dancers?”

“What?” Paige sputters. “I was just being polite!”

“Mm, sure.”

“Whatever, just let me talk to her, bro come on.” Paige nods, impatiently.

KK rolls her eyes, but still walks down the court. “Azzi,” she calls out. “Dumbass on the line for you.”

Paige watches Azzi’s face come into focus, first looking confused before a smile blooms on her face, dimple creasing her cheek.

“Babe, hey.”

Paige feels all the uncertainty and jealousy just fade away at the sight of that smile.

“Hey,” she replies, softly.

“Did something happen?” Azzi’s brow creases with worry, and she walks a bit away so they can speak in a more private spot.

“No,” Paige lies, suddenly embarrassed about how much she overreacted. “I just miss you.”

“Paige.” Azzi's smile grows even wider. “You called KK to tell her how much you missed me? You just saw me like two days ago.”

“Well, she pocket dialed me, and I saw you, so-” She cuts herself off. “Yeah.”

“I miss you too, dummy.”

Azzi’s smile is softer now, the sight of it fills Paige’s chest with warmth, so different from the mess of emotions she felt just minutes ago. Azzi has always been that for Paige, her safe place, her peace, her home.

Paige hears the noise in the background pick up and Azzi looks up, past the camera.

“You gotta go?”

“I’ll call you later?”

“You better.” Paige smirks and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

“Okay, I gotta go.”

“Wait,” Azzi pauses with a finger over the screen. “Is Martin still there?”

Azzi looks confused, but she still calls out, “Kate!”

Kate appears over Azzi’s shoulder, looking slightly puzzled at being summoned, but with a friendly smile anyways. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Good, happy to be here, you know? Just taking it all in. Azzi’s been really nice about helping me actually. Since she’s been here before.” Kate smiles at Azzi, who returns it.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great, huh?” Paige winks and Azzi snorts softly. But then she says, voice serious, “Keep an eye on her for me, would ya? She doesn’t like to ask for help for herself sometimes.”

“You got it, Paige. Good to see you.” Kate jogs off to join the others in the now starting scrimmage.

When Paige looks back to Azzi, she almost blushes at the look in her eye.

“You’re always taking care of me.”

“Well, I kinda love you a little, so.” Paige scratches the bridge of her nose, feeling bashful all of a sudden.

“I kinda love you a little too.”