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miyukisu · 3 months ago

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Better Bite the Bullet .ᐟ

❤︎ | He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc) ╰ feat. iwaizumi hajime (hq) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 10 | kinktober masterlist

tags - college au, childhood bestfriends, Oikawa mention, blowjobs, handjobs, no p in v, p*rn with plot, virgin! reader

minors do not interact

You've known Hajime since you were in diapers, long enough that he had grown indifferent to your antics. He hasn't even looked up once from his phone as you paced tirelessly around his bedroom. You were losing your shit and Hajime was sitting on his bed without a care in the world.

A bright idea came to you in the form of making your footsteps louder in hopes that it would annoy him enough to catch his attention. He clicks his tongue once before narrowing his eyes at your moving form.

But not even a second later, his eyes were back on his phone one again. "What the hell are you even doing?" he asked.

"Pacing around. Isn't it obvious?"

He grumbles, finally turning his phone off and throwing it to the side where it landed on his pillow with a soft thud. "No shit Sherlock. I meant what are you pacing around for? It's annoying."

Finally, you stop in your tracks, facing your childhood best friend with your lower lip between your teeth. You've been dying to tell him what was on your chest an hour ago. But now that you're about to spill the beans to him—you found yourself tripping over your words.

"I guess... um... Oikawa kinda asked me to hang out soon... um..."

Hajime's interest was piqued. Normally he wouldn't give two shits about who Oikawa asked out. But this time it was you. An uneasy feeling brewed in his stomach, like he had drank rancid milk.

"And you're worrying about it like some middle schooler? C'mon you're in college," he deflects. Of course, it was his defense mechanism—to act all tough and harsh with the revelation.

You crossed your arms in defense. "I get that... but it's THE Oikawa Tooru that we're talking about here."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? Is your head not screwed on properly?"

Hajime rolls his eyes. Not only were you about to be whisked away by Oikawa, but you had the gall to act like a total brat right now.

"He's just asking to hang out—what's so amazing about that?"

Truth be told, you hadn't thought this far into what it would be like if you had this conversation with Hajime. You figured you wouldn't have to divulge the second—more embarrassing—part of this whole event.

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips. You screwed your eyes shut as if to prepare for the impact of his reaction on what you have to say next.

"A friend of mine told me that when he says something like that... it usually leads to... you know..."

Hajime's eyebrow perked then silence ensued. He knew what you meant, of course. He wasn't born yesterday.

"To what? Fucking?"

Your eyes shot open at his vulgar choice of words. That's exactly what you meant, but you didn't think he'd be so blunt about it. "I mean—if it does get to that... obviously I won't just go all the way with him. I haven't even talked to him that much," you say—backpedaling.

"You won't go all the way, but you'll go somewhere huh?" he pried further. He played it off like he was teasing or, worse yet, mocking. But he wanted to know; he knew his friend's intentions, but he didn't know yours.

You nervously bit your lip again. This was going to be the third revelation of tonight. Never in a thousand years would you have thought that you'd be having his conversation with your childhood best friend.

"Maybe... maybe, yeah... that's what I'm nervous about..."

The uneasy feeling had grown worse. Hajime swallowed even though his mouth felt dry. "Then just don't," he suggests. "You could always just hang out normally."

Another sigh escapes you and you decide to sit beside him—plopping down on the mattress. You ran your fingers through your hair, smoothing out any tangles that had built up.

"I just wanna experience something... you know? I'll only be young and in college once..." you admit. At this point, there was no use in hiding it. Hajime knew every substantial detail anyway.

This time, it was Hajime who sighed. Part of him still felt dread, but another felt pity for you.

"Jeez..."

Hearing his reaction, you felt the urge to stand up and find your bearings. But a warm hand grips your wrist before you could go. You turn to look back and see Hajime's determined expression.

"I'll teach you then."

────────────

Hajime was a 100% sure not a single rational thought was left in either of your heads. Somehow, he thought that if only you touched him and not vice versa—it would be fine. And, somehow, you agreed to it.

You gulped at the sight in front of you, Hajime leaning against the wall on his bed with his dick out of his sweats.

"Well... that's certainly... something..."

"Do you also plan on commenting about his dick when you see it?"

His sarcasm was hardly appreciated right now, especially since you were sure that your nerves would send you into a tailspin.

"No, of course not. I just—fuck, fine. Let's get to it," you say before scooting closer to him.

Carefully, you reach out and gently wrap your fingers around his shaft. Hajime hissed softly, but you were too concentrated to even notice.

Mesmerized, you swiped your thumb over his tip and gave him a soft tug. His jaw was clenched so hard, trying to act like none of this fazed him. But the way you treated him so delicately was arousing in its own way.

You begin stroking him faster. "Is this okay? It doesn't hurt, right?"

"No, but," Hajime pauses before placing his larger hand over yours. "You could do it better though."

He was now guiding you—actually teaching you how to jerk a guy off. Your eyes were fixated on the way both of your hands glided up and down his shaft, slippery from the immense amount of pre.

But his eyes were on your face. Oddly enough, he found it endearing how focused you were at the task on hand (quite literally). He watched every time your face scrunched, how your mouth was a bit agape, and how your eyebrows would quirk up sometimes.

It was cute, he thought.

As soon as you figured out the pace and pressure, he let go of your hand, allowing you free reign over his dick. You felt it twitch. It was most likely a good sign at least. Even better now that he had his eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall.

Maybe this was easier than you thought. Maybe you could do something else. So your hand slows and your eyes trail up to his face. "Hajime."

"What?"

"Can I use my mouth?"

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon hearing the words that left you. "Huh? What for?"

"No one's gonna be impressed by a handjob. Guys already do it on their own all the time," you reason.

Hajime clicks his tongue. "You don't have to do that kind of thing yet when you're this inexperienced."

He tried staying stern despite the almost pleading look on your face. Hell, he wasn't even sure why he was denying you. He could have your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in a second and here he was—acting like a righteous fool when he doesn't have to be.

Again, he clicks his tongue. But, this time, not because of you. He's annoyed at himself for having no restraint... for having no shame that he's kind of taking advantage of his best friend's naivety.

But to hell with it.

"Okay," he relents. Hajime watches as you get even closer to him. Only then do you feel the nerves consume you once more.

The newfound confidence you had earlier had quickly dissipated as soon as you began leaning down. It didn't help that his natural manly scent was intoxicating. It was warm—you felt it against your face—and it was achingly hard.

You pucker your lips on instinct, accidentally kissing his tip instead. Hajime thought you were doing it on purpose to fuck with him, not realizing that you were tripping out of nervousness.

"Don't be a tease."

"I'm not!" you countered before quickly wrapping your lips around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent shivers down his spine. But the slight grazing of your teeth on his sensitive shaft made him uncomfortable.

"Ah shit.... less teeth. Gotta hollow out your cheeks a bit."

Your jaw was already hurting. Though it probably had less to do with your skill and more to do with his size. He seemed more manageable with just a hand, but now that you're using your mouth, the task seemed gargantuan now.

But you still try. You do as he says and you feel his entire body relax a bit. It takes a lot of your concentration to make sure your teeth were out of the way and your lips provided enough suction.

That alone had Hajime seeing stars. It wasn't the best blowjob of his life, but seeing that it was your head bobbing up-and-down on his dick was a sensation in and of itself.

After getting used to the basics, you decide to throw in a little bit of tongue action. It caught him by complete surprise and a soft groan spilled from his lips.

Scared that you had hurt him, you were about to lift your head to ask him, but his hand quickly places itself on top of your head. He wasn't rough nor did he forcefully keep your head down.

Instead, he began caressing your hair—starting from the top of your head, going down to smooth your locks. It was his way of reassuring you that he felt fine—amazing even. You were doing a damn good job for someone who hasn't done this before.

Hajime avoided using his voice throughout the whole thing to make it less intimate and more 'educational' if that even made sense. But he understood that you probably needed more reassurance.

"That's it," he started. "You're doing so well... so well for me."

Hajime had filthier things to say otherwise, but again, this was supposed to be 'educational'.

As much as you want to keep up the pace that you built, your jaw was too sore for that. A bit of a break wouldn't hurt, so you retract yourself—tongue lolled out with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. The sight alone would have made him bust, but he kept his composure... somewhat.

"Oh fuck..."

His words spurred you on, however. You settled on suckling his tip while your hand worked on the rest of his length. Having the best of both worlds made his head spin. His leaking tip was the most sensitive it had ever been and the fast pace of your hand made the coil in his stomach tighter and tighter.

Hajime wanted nothing more but to come in your mouth—consider it as payment for him teaching you. His dick began to twitch again like earlier, but this time you noticed the way his abs would tense up. The dampness that had been pooling in your underwear ever since you had his dick in your hand was starting to become distracting. But you pulled through.

"Fuckkk... I'm coming in your mouth," he announced. Thick white ropes of hot cum painted your tongue. The flavor was odd—something you've never tasted before. It made your face contort a bit.

He tried catching his breath after that single mindblowing orgasm. But through his high, he noticed the hesitation on your face. "You don't have to swallow that you—"

But he stops mid-sentence as he watched you gulp down his fresh seed. You've gone this far—might as well.

Hajime swore that he felt his dick twitch back to life, ready for more. He wasn't sure what you did to him. But now he was certain that you absolutely shouldn't do this with anyone but him.

"Fuck... forget about that moron. Have fun with me instead."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Wow... I'm actually kinda proud of this one?

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!!#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #hq #hq smut #kinktober #kintober 2024 #mksu.ktober 24 #mksu.works

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whirlybirbs · 5 months ago

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— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate.

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that.

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move.

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it.

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won.

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer.

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch.

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk.

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice.

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth.

"I'm fine."

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work.

You're so not fine.

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours.

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse.

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out.

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right?

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!"

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be.

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy."

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak.

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch.

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ.

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone.

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi—

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof.

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over.

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch.

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained.

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist.

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room.

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology.

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned.

You swear he's smirking in the dark.

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore.

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine.

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!"

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure.

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment.

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles.

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot.

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects.

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him.

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him.

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch.

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner.

You've got All Might on his knees.

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand.

Making you orgasm.

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like.

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in.

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther.

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark.

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea.

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you.

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan.

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop.

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core.

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly.

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt.

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness.

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth.

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—"

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer.

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress.

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha.

Yea.

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form.

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch.

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile.

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally.

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide.

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises.

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil.

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right.

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right.

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

#this is a rare birbs smut #toshinori x reader #all might x reader #mha imagine #mha x reader #toshinori yagi #all might x you #mha imagines #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi x you #mha smut #i would take back shots from this man at any age of his #bruised ego

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minimomoe · 7 months ago

Text

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner.

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception.

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself.

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words.

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t.

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way.

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you.

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left.

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.”

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?”

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell.

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room.

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?”

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes.

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.”

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers.

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you.

“Rise.”

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.”

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind.

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head.

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker.

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.”

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought.

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking.

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?”

“Resting with you.”

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?”

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest.

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done.

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled.

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair.

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first.

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast.

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

#minimoe #minimomoe #jjk #jjk fanfic #sukuna ryomen #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #x black reader #black fem reader #soulmates #true form sukuna #sukuna fluff #this is v silly #and tropey #tummy mouth may be sentient #red string of fate

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

Text

Operation: Babymaker-- Ditch the Party...again

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

💜 💛 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

It's a beautiful day for a party, and Kento is a naughty, naughty goose drunk 🪿💛

And...LINK HERE to the original Ditch the Party

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink 💛

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"Kento! Are you nearly done? We've got to go!" You leaned out of the bathroom, smirking at Kento and the scrutinising eyes he ran over your niece's expertly wrapped birthday present.

Kento grumbled, mildly offended; "'Nearly done'," he scoffed, "as if I'd leave it to the last minute. It's been wrapped for a week." You padded over to him, pleased with your gift choices; a knight's costume (complete with sword and shield) and a glittery nail polish set.

"I can't believe she's five already," you crooned, fingers grazing over her gift, wistful. Leaning down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kento smiled into your hair.

"I can't wait," he hummed, the prospect of parenthood filling him with fizzy excitement.

You looked up at him with sternly pinched lips, and an unwavering memory of your last badly-behaved-Kento party attendance; "Well, you'll have to wait. It's child-friendly today. The strongest thing going past your lips is pink lemonade."

You headed towards the door. Kento had the absolute audacity to look at you with total innocence.

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"Happy birthda-- oh, she's gone."

Leaning down to hug the birthday girl, your niece, was futile-- she darted away laughing, slippery as an eel, into the maelstrom of other children, several dozen boys and girls her own age who had taken over the garden.

The obnoxiously loud party music, screeching kids on the bouncy castle, bustling parents making awkward small-talk, and flamboyant party entertainers turned the scene into a sensory nightmare. You felt Kento lean close, his smooth voice grazing your ear.

"I'll get us a drink, shall I?"

Before you could turn and beg to go with him, he was gone, weaving back to the kitchen with a sly look in his eye. Other parents stepped back from you, the currently child-free sacrifice, and you were as a gazelle on the Sahara.

"Tag, YOU'RE IT--"

You squeaked as a child slapped your thigh, promptly sprinting away. You smirked, tying back your hair, ready to be the cool auntie.

Ready to be IT.

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Kento strolled through your sister's kitchen, nodding politely to the horde of strangers, catching your sister's eye and being beckoned over. She looked sweaty, and harangued, but happy.

"Kento! Drink?" Without waiting for an answer, she bustled around behind her, scooping a ladle into an enormous crystal dish of juice, "Here, you'll need this, I promise. It's not that strong--"

Kento wasn't listening as two big red cups were pushed into his hands, and stared instead out of the window into the garden, his gaze meltingly soft and adoring.

He watched you, hair up, dewy in the Spring sun, laughing as you darted after squealing children. His chest burst, his head a montage of you and him and a fantasy child. Kento sighed, and took a generous swig of juice, thirsty after your long drive. He raised his fine eyebrows, glancing down into the cup.

"I don't normally like juice," he said aloud to your sister, who offered him a guilty little smile, "but this has something about it."

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Panting, and being congratulated by your watch for completing a good workout, you lolloped away from the crowd of children, who had now mercifully abandoned you for a live magician.

"Where is that man," you pondered aloud to yourself, as you poured yourself a glass of lemonade in the kitchen, "who promised me a dri-- oh!"

You slopped lemonade down your arm with a squeak of surprise, as strong arms wrapped around your waist, a wet kiss being pressed behind your ear.

"Kento! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd left me," you teased, wriggling away to wash your arms at the sink. Kento hovered behind you, predatory in his affections.

"Leave you?" He began, low and sultry, "How could I possibly, when you taste so--"

Kento was interrupted, your mother leaning past him to give you a kiss. As you spoke with her, you reapplied your lipstick, and Kento felt a wicked lick of heat in his belly, all inhibitions thrown out of the window after three large cups of 'juice'.

Your mother left, and you turned to drape your arms around Kento's neck, ready to be held at arm's length in accordance with his strict ick towards public affection. With a jolt of surprise, you felt his arms lock behind your waist instead, holding you flush against his body, his light slacks and summer shirt (why was his tie loose? how were the top three buttons suddenly undone?) leaving little to the imagination.

"That colour suits you," Kento whispered, husky as his eyes flicked down to your lips, one thumb coming up to slowly brush your bottom lip down, shuddering at the lipstick coming off onto his skin, "but it would suit my cock much better, don't you think?"

You blushed furiously, trying to battle your way out of his arms as he chuckled against your decollete. Your frantic eyes spotted the punch bowl, your sister-- from whom drinks should never be accepted-- and a series of empty cups.

You stuttered up at Kento, feeling yourself throb against your will as his tongue darted across his lips, smearing the lipstick residue on his thumb onto his neck instead. You began to hiss at him, berating, squirming against him to release yourself from his arms.

Kento groaned into you, and you clapped your hands over your face to hide your blush; "Keep that up," he threatened, low and laughing, "and I might just have to tie you up before I cum in my--"

You dropped out of his arms, wiggling under them and whipping your head round to check for other people, before pointing a finger at him. You mimed zipping your lips, eyes glistening, cheeks pink, and Kento felt his cock twitch at you telling him off. You had backed away, but Kento smirked, lopsided, and slowly loped towards you, eyes hungry, backing you into a corner.

"Tag, you're it!" A little hand batted at Kento's leg, and he flipped smoothly, spinning and jogging off into the garden after your niece. You stood, red faced, feeling your heartbeat between your legs, and wondering where to hide to cover your sha--

"You alright? Looking a bit..." Your brother-in-law walked into the kitchen, and finished weakly, unsure if he was about to inadvertently insult you. You smiled, flapping your hand at him.

"Hot," you gasped, "running round after this lot!" He smiled appreciatively, offering you a cup of your sister's deadly punch. You took a swig before holding it away from your lips, coughing.

"What the hell did she put in this?" You sputtered. Your brother-in-law looked sheepish, at least, on his wife's behalf.

"Everything, I think," he apologised, "Kento likes it, anyway--"

"Oh, he would," you snipped, before excusing yourself to the garden. Unable to spot Kento amongst the knights and princesses, your neck prickled, feeling distinctly hunted.

Staring from treehouse, to bouncy castle, to little wooden playhouse, to game of tag, you raised your cup to your mouth, ready to chug a mouthful of Dutch courage-- and you felt a long-fingered, enormous hand pluck the cup out of your grasp from behind, hearing Kento release a hum of satisfaction as he drained your punch in one gulp.

"Gorgeous punch," Kento drawled, slipping one foot between yours and one arm round your waist, "let's dip your tits in it and I can suck it right off."

Without warning, Kento hooked one of your legs from under you as you squeaked at him, and he took the opportunity to heroically catch you before you fell to the ground.

A small cluster of parents looked over to you both. Kento dusted you off, smiling at you, and gently chastising; "you shouldn't drink so much at a children's party, darling."

Your jaw dropped. Wordlessly, Kento abandoned you and hopped onto the bouncy castle with your niece; you sputtered at the faintly judgemental looks from the mothers beside you. Mortified, you moved to the party food table, pretending to organise plates to hide how flushed your face was, and how you had to clamp your legs together to stop the throbbing.

Turning round once you had calmed down, you felt Kento's arms cage you in against the table, just like the last party, and you gaped up at him in mute horror. Kento maintained eye contact, brown eyes twinkling as he reached round you, picking up an eclair from a plate of party cakes.

"Cream-filled," whispered Kento, taking a languid bite, whipped cream pouring from the end facing you. Kento chewed, leaning close to you as he swallowed, tongue darting out to lick cream off his lips, "my favourite."

You could have exploded, your whole body on fire with embarrassment and want. Nearby, your elderly great-aunt cooed as Kento appeared to lovingly offer you a bite of his pastry. You were silent, stunned; she reassured you.

"Don't mind me, dear, take a bite!"

"I'm-- I mean, uh--" you stuttered, and Kento smiled at your aunt, pulling you in sweetly by the hip.

"I think she's full, actually," Kento laughed with your aunt, smiling again as she walked off. Spinning back to face you, Kento's smile was gone and replaced by wolfish hunger again, "but not as full as you could be, all fucked-out on my cock, hmm?"

"Oh my god, Kento," you whimpered, face in your hands, now surrounded by children being invited to the table for lunch. Kento smiled, bending down to pass plates out, before pulling you aside again.

"Say it again," he growled, low and desperate, tucking your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering for a fraction too long, "but next time, I want it because I'm pulling your hair."

You ran, positively melting, in dire need of a hiding spot. Zipping through the kitchen, past the living room, you rounded the corner into the hallway, finding the nearest cupboard, and darting in.

No sooner had you reached up, pulling a little string to switch the light on...than a hand, strong and determined, closed around the doorframe, pulling Kento into view. You felt faint, both hands pressed over your mouth to stop yourself from audibly gasping.

Kento never once took his eyes off you, stepping into the narrow shelved cupboard, and reaching up for the light pull. The last thing you saw before being plunged into darkness, was Kento removing his tie.

Your senses heightened, you smelled Kento's cologne before feeling his lips on your neck, shamelessly sucking you, tasting you. Kento groaned, loud and shuddering, and he laughed as you slapped him on the chest. You felt him thrust loosely against your belly.

"I love parties," Kento lied, and you scoffed.

"You hate parties, Kento, you just love--"

"Fucking you with words before squirrelling you away somewhere?" His mouth moved lower, shifting your shirt and bra aside to pull your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet and sucking you just a little too hard, "Foreplay, darling."

You gasped, your fingers tangling in Kento's hair, his other hand making quick work of undoing your shorts. Idly slipping his hand inside and underneath your underwear, you bucked against his hand, Kento shivering with glee at your delicious wetness.

"Fuck yourself on my hand," he whispered, husky with restraint, "and we'll see who cums first, hmm? A little competition." You clapped a hand over your mouth as he curled two thick fingers inside you, so long that the edges tickled your cervix and you felt him in your belly.

The heel of Kento's hand pressed flush to your clit, and your hips stuttered as you rolled them against him, seeing stars with the friction, rutting down onto his fingers, holding him by the wrist.

Kento had already undone his trousers in the dark, and palmed his aching cock desperately inside his boxers. Whispering filth to you, sucking and releasing your breast into his mouth again and again with wet pops as he pinched your nipple between his lips, Kento wished he had more hands.

"Keep going-- fuck, good girl-- such a good girl--" he whispered, unable to stroke his cock for fear of cumming down your thigh, his head swimming with your velvety wet walls clenching around his fingers, using his hand as a toy to pleasure yourself.

Kento felt his high begin to creep down his spine, his balls clenching, biting lightly against your nipple and trying not to rip into you like a wild animal. As you felt your own orgasm creep closer, humping the heel of his hand, fucking his fingers as deep as they could reach for relief...Kento removed his hand with urgency.

"--can't-- can't hold back--" he shuddered, shunting down your underwear for better access, "--can't waste it--" Kento grabbed your hand, wrapping it round his twitching cock, and settled his weeping cockhead against your clit, keeping his other hand close.

Wrapping his fingers round yours, keeping himself pressed against your clit, Kento stroked himself fast, his groans building, until they tapered off into stuttering moans. You felt short, hot bursts of Kento's seed hit your clit, and fall into his other, waiting hand.

Kento shivered and swore to feel you rub his cockhead on your clit, using his cum as lube. He had gathered the rest of his cum, thick and white, on his fingers, and thrust them back inside you, not stopping until they grazed your cervix again. Positioning the heel of his palm against your clit again, Kento squeezed your thigh, pulling it forwards to encourage you to fuck his hand again.

You complied, Kento's seed giving you the lubrication you needed, pressing your aching pussy down around his fingers until you felt him deep in your belly again. Kento's mouth and other hand were full, busy with your breasts, kneading and massaging and pinching as he whispered encouragement to you.

"--got to cum-- suck it all up into you-- then I'll fuck it in even deeper--" Kento's drunk filth rolled off his tongue without a filter, going straight to your core, and your orgasm burned through you like wildfire.

Kento kissed you deeply, drinking your cries and whimpers down like liquor. Kento's strong hand thrust you through your ecstasy, feeling your pussy clench and suck against his fingers, leaving barely a trace of his cum behind.

Pulling his fingers out, Kento replaced his hand with his knee to keep you upright against the wall. In the dark, you blushed to hear the wet sucks of Kento licking his fingers clean.

"Ready?" He toned, low and devious.

"For wha--" With little warning, Kento lifted you against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pressing his half-hard cock into your pussy, still twitching from your recent orgasm.

Kento groaned into your neck, hot and squirming with overstimulation, letting your incoordinate shocked little thrusts suck his cock deeper, bringing it back to life. He felt himself twitch inside you, growing longer and harder as the blood rushed back.

Drunk on Kento's insistent need to fill you with his cum, you had tuned out the sounds of the party, letting Kento hold your weight and shuddering in delight as you felt his cock warm and swelling inside you. A change in the tone of voices beyond the cupboard snapped you to attention.

"Hide and seek!" cried a little voice in the garden, "You hide, and I'll count...one, two--" A flurry of little screams and footsteps came closer, into the house.

"Kento," you hissed panicking. Kento chuckled against your neck, rutting lazily into you, trembling with the bittersweet tang of overstimulation. Encouraging you to lock your hips round him, Kento looped his tie through the door handle, wrapping the tails around his hand and bringing it back to your arse you hold you up again.

"One more time," he moaned, suckling little red hearts into your skin, "I won't-- won't be long--"

Hearing Kento's wavering voice, so intoxicated by his need to fill you, you slipped two fingers down, shivering as you used the remnants of his cum to rub circles on your clit, deliberately squeezing your walls around Kento until he whimpered against you. Feeling you pleasure yourself around him had Kento reeling.

Kento began to lift you by the thighs, ramming you down onto his cock, now rock solid, and you muffled your squeals into his chest. You heard him growl, shuddering as you bit into his pecs, and it spurred him on to fuck you harder. Clinging on around his neck, Kento felt a rush of satisfaction as to your pussy quivered in response to his brutal pace.

"--so close--" he whined, his breaths hot and panting, fruity with the deadly punch that brought him to this, "--got to-- you first...fuck, so deep--" Kento's arms faltered, and you dropped deeper around his cock with a squeak, the jolt making you convulse with pleasure.

Kento came with a muted growl, biting into you, unable to press himself any deeper than he already was. Overtaken by the euphoria of feeling himself twitch and spurt inside you, hearing you trying to suppress your gasps, Kento thrust lazily into you, finally satisfied, panting as he came down from his high; you flopped against him, lost in delirious pleasure.

Your stomach dropped as you heard little voices outside the door. Kento held his tie taut as hands pulled at the handle, before declaring "it's locked!", the footsteps scurrying away. Kento chuckled into your neck, devious as you slapped at his chest again.

"You need to lie down," he whispered into you, helping you to dress yourself again, filled with anguish as he thought of his cum dripping out of you.

"I do need a lie down," you agreed, still giggling and love-drunk. Releasing the tie and taking you by the hand, Kento peered surreptitiously out of the doorway before spiriting you away to the living room. A set of little boys and girls, dressed incoordinately as princess-knights, sat playing with nail polish and make-up.

They looked up at you both as you approached, taking your rumpled appearances in as evidence of a really fun playtime.

Kento filled once more with wicked intent.

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Lying back on the sofa with cucumber over your eyes, your lips were pursed as your niece plastered them with sparkly lipstick.

Kento sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, fingers splayed, nails now covered with nail polish of pink and red and gold and--

"Where did they get this cucumber?" You asked, sniffing, frowning. Kento's jaw twitched, answering after thanking a blushing little girl for her wonderful manicure.

"Sandwiches."

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nyoomerr · 5 months ago

Text

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

#HAVE FUN WITH HIM!!!#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #binghe shime chronicles

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krirebr · 3 months ago

Note

random hoeing:

Steve catching you in the rain, his white shirt completely soaked and transparent

Ok, this has to be Neighbor Steve.

Warnings: explicit language, more fluff than I normally do, completely unedited, 18+ - MINORS DNI

After Steve caught you ogling him during the heatwave, the tone of your conversations when you run into him in your building has gotten decidedly flirtier. But for whatever reason, that's where it's stopped. As much as you've tried to send signals that you are very open to more, he's never taken you up on it. Which is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. You are very cool with it. The thought of it definitely doesn't make you shrivel up inside. You are so cool.

All of that is the furthest thing from your mind right now, though, as you and your dog run through the rain. It'd been such a nice day, but as you hit the halfway point of your usual longer route, the sky unexpectedly opened up and you and your poor dog were hit by an absolute downpour. Now, finally home, you're both completely soaked and desperate to get inside and dry.

After some fumbling, you get the door to your building unlocked and opened. Just as you're about to get inside and let the door close behind you, you hear your name ring out. You turn around to see Steve hurrying up the path. "Hold the door!" he yells.

You freeze, doing as he asked. Holy shit. He's just as soaked as you, but while you're sure you look like a drowned rat, he very much does not. He– Well. He– He's wearing that damned white t-shirt again. Except it's not white now, it's translucent. You can see everything – that tattoo you spotted before, and a few more to go with it, an incredible set of abs, nipples. Holy shit.

He quickly ushers you inside, thank god, because you can't move on your own, your eyes still stuck to his chest. "Fuck, that came out of nowhere, huh?" he chuckles.

The moment you're out of the rain, your dog proceeds to do her best to shake herself dry, as if the three of you weren't already dripping all over the entryway. "Oh, shit," you mumble, reaching for her without really knowing what to do.

Steve just laughs. And then does it himself, shaking out his golden locks. Part of his hair flops down over his forehead, and you do your best to hold in your gasp. Really it's just so unfair that he could get caught in a rainstorm and come out looking like that. What the actual fuck? you think to yourself.

Except, judging by the way his head whips around to look at you, maybe you didn't think it. Maybe it was more out loud than you'd meant. Oh god. You immediately start babbling, which is unfortunately just as uncontrollable as the initial slip-up you're trying to make up for. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I just– I mean– Look at you!" You throw a wild gesture at him as he just stares at you with his mouth open, trying to take in your ramble. "It's cats and dogs out there and you look like that?? While I–" another wild gesture, at yourself this time. "I just– How is it fair that you're so beautiful??"

"You think I'm beautiful?" he finally manages to interject.

"Huh?" And that's when your brain finally catches up. Oh dear god. What is wrong with you?? You cautiously glance at him to find him staring at you, not upset, but like he's trying to figure you out. Fuck it, you suddenly think. You've already embarrassed yourself. You have nothing left to lose. "You wanna get dinner with me sometime?"

You swear that the smile that blooms on Steve's face is bright and warm enough to dry you both off. "I was starting to worry I was reading your signals wrong. Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to."

Your answering smile is strong enough to push all the clouds away.

☔

Thanks for the fun prompt, Eva!

Tag List

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @steviebbboi @missaprilt23

#ask kris #biteofcherry #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #cevans characters #chris evans fanfiction #drabble #asks are always welcome

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stylespresleyhearted · 9 months ago

Text

🍻 PUB NIGHT W/ CALLUM TURNER HEAD-CANONS

Warnings: nsfw (minor) but still beware. mentions of callum turner’s wonderful penis, quickies, hickies, and giving him head in a bar bathroom.

This is for all my Callum girlies 🫡 This man has become what I yearn for the past month. I find him absolutely perfect and his accent is sexy and he’s so normal and down to earth and funny and I’m in love. Honestly. Special thanks to all the ladies in my Callum Turner discord chat who talked about how amazing it’d be to be his girlfriend and go to a pub with him. I hope you all enjoy & feel free to come into my ask box to yell about Callum if you feel like doing so.

Masterlist can be found here.

| photo collage created by me.

• See, Callum’s been so busy doing promo for Masters of the Air and he’s been traveling to different cities and landing new roles. You can’t tag along everywhere; you have school or work or both but he makes sure to call you at least every morning and night and in between he’s texting you silly selfies of what he’s doing throughout the day and keeping you updated. Letting you know he’s still thinking of you even when you aren’t with him.

• He leaves Golo, his dog, with you and demands many videos of him on walks and him playing in the park. Talks to him over FaceTime and makes sure to tell him to “listen to your mum.” He’s also jealous he isn’t home to cuddle with the both of you and he tells you so.

• And when he finally comes home? Everyone is eager to catch up and see him and congratulate him on everything he’s been doing so as much as you wanna drag this man to your bedroom and keep him there, he’s an extrovert and he’s got friends and family to catch up with and projects lined up so he’s dragging you to a pub that isn’t too far from where you live.

• Not before you guys sneak in a quickie though. He takes you from the back, bending you over your make up table and blaming you for getting ready in your bra and panties. This man totally thinks you purposely shape your mouth into an ‘o’ shape to tease him when you’re doing your mascara no matter how many times you tell him it’s a universal girl thing.

• Callum hates when you wear matte lipstick because it stains his mouth and no amount of washing off in the loo will get it off. He also doesn’t like when you wear matte lipstick because you only give him pecks as you don’t want it on your teeth or staining your face.

• He doesn’t mind later in the night when you drag him to the restroom and stain his cock with your lipstick though. He loves it when you’re messy while giving him head. He loves an eager girl.

• You two are the last to arrive even though you arranged the time. There’s some goading from your friends who were all waiting for you but honestly they’re used to your tardiness, especially when Callum’s been gone for more than a couple of days.

• During your tryst he left a hickey on your collarbone and you didn’t bother covering it. Not because he’s possessive but because you loved to feel claimed by him. You don’t care if people think you look “dirty.”

• After greeting everyone he leads you over to the bar and while you wait for the bartender to approach you, leaning on the bar top, he’s got one of his large hands cupping your ass. The. Entire. Time.

• He orders a round of shots for everyone to start the night. There’s a football (soccer) game on and he makes sure to score a seat facing the television with you sat right beside him. He’s got his hand on your thigh or when his elbows are on the table and he’s gesticulating during conversation, you wrap your arms around his bicep and lean your chin on his shoulder.

• You love listening to him talk. Love how his accent thickens when he’s around his mates and it only gets worse the more drinks he has. Sometimes you have trouble understanding him but you nod along and pucker your lips for pecks when he looks to you to confirm some part of his story.

• Callum doesn’t care how many kisses you ask for or if others deem you clingy. This man enjoys all the affection and attention you give him, he loves being loved on.

• Honestly it doesn’t take long for him to say ‘fuck it’ and just pull you onto his lap. Hand on your ass/thigh to keep you close to him.

• Him and his friends talk shit to each other, rooting for opposite teams and your content just being in his presence and watching him relax because you know how much work he puts into his craft.

• The more he drinks, the redder his face gets and his chest begins to get splotchy and he starts to get sweaty but he never tries to detach himself from you no matter how hot it gets. You don’t mind the smell of his sweat or if it gets on you and you have a thing for gently nibbling on the tip of his wonderful dumbo ears as his blushed skin progresses. The first time you nibbled on his ear he thought he had to head to the loo to “take care of you”, he thought it was a sign but he soon realized it’s an affection you bestow on him when you’re drinking.

• Callum presses kisses to the hickey he left against your collarbone. Nonchalantly too, not even to draw attention to it just mid listening to a mate talk he’ll lean over to press his lips against it. You think it’s his way of letting you know he’s still attuned to you, even if he’s in conversation with someone else.

• When your friends finally manage to pull you off his lap and onto the dance floor, he stays in his seat but his attention is split between the conversation he’s in and watching you to make sure you’re okay. He trusts you and he’s confident in himself enough to not be overly possessive he just genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay throughout the night. Doesn’t want anyone spilling their drinks on you or assholes who can’t take no getting too close.

• He holds your clutch/your purse for you to make sure you don’t lose any of your items. And he never complains about keeping it safe for you.

• And you appreciate that he trusts you and lets you handle issues on your own, he truly only steps in when the person isn’t accepting ‘no’ as an answer or being a complete creep.

• You’re the opposite. You trust him but as soon as a female gets to close you make sure to stake your claim. Wrapping an arm around him or asking for a kiss, pulling him towards you and saying “come dance with me, babe.”

• He politely excuses himself from whoever was hitting on him and gives you a knowing chuckle.

• As soon as you’re beckoning him over to the dance floor he doesn’t hesitate to join you. He isn’t shy, doesn’t mind two stepping or grabbing a tight hold on your hips when you throw it back on him to a particularly raunchy song.

• He does blush a bit, but it’s hard to tell because he’s already red from the alcohol.

• You can feel the length and the girth of him against your ass when you press against him. His cock is large and thick and you get wet remembering he didn’t wipe your combined come off before he tucked it back into his jeans after your quickie.

• I will not do this man’s cock justice but we know he’s large. Everything about him is big and his penis head is probably fat, and the tip of it a bit crooked because it’s long and for more mouth watering details read Marina’s cock-versation here.

• When you turn to face him his hands immediately fall to your ass, cupping both your cheeks in his large, warm palms. Your arms around his neck, both smiling at one another all dopey and tipsy and in love.

• If there’s karaoke at the bar you both take turns dedicating a song to each other.

• Maybe even perform a duet.

• You don’t smoke so you don’t join him for any of his cigarette breaks but he only heads out after asking if you’ll be okay or if you need anything from him before he heads out.

• He comes back and wraps himself around you, smelling of cigarette obviously, but you tuck your nose into his neck and breathe deep where the smell of pure him still lies. Sweat and musky and the cologne he sprayed on.

• Callum always asks if he can kiss you after smoking because he knows the taste of cigarettes is overwhelming sometimes and you don’t smoke. Sometimes you cringe your face afterwards and it always makes him laugh. He’ll throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you in and say “sorry, love.”

• He doesn’t mind that you take loads of selfies of the two of you or photos of him or videos to keep in your camera roll. He’s always ready with a funny face or a kiss. (Or he flips off the camera - his go to pose.)

• Throughout the night, he continuously tells you how sexy you are, how pretty you look and that he knows he’s a lucky bastard to have you.

• You’re the one always making sure to order glasses of water at the end of the night. He doesn’t get drunk often and he’ll mostly stick to his Guinness, but you’re prone to waking up with hangovers after one beer.

• If you’re refusing water, he has the bar tender pour them in shot glasses and has you thinking it’s liquor. He finds you cute as hell and is watching you with a huge smile the entire time.

• There’s always a detour on the way home - a stop at your favorite pizza spot a block away from your house. If you have any of your friends with you, Callum makes sure to herd all of you like sheep and get food and water in all of you. He listens to the drunk girl conversation and goes along with anything you say.

• Once your home he helps you take off your lashes and your make up. He knows you always complain and feel bad the next morning when you sleep with it on because you break out. If you’re sober enough to do it on your own he’ll just watch you. Not wanting to get in bed until you’re in bed too.

• He makes sure there’s water on your nightstand.

• Throughout the night he’ll end up detaching from you (even though you always follow) but your first sleeping position of the night is always him curled around you as you back into him. He goes to sleep cupping your boobs because he says they keep his hand warm and he likes the feel of them. He’s a man and boobs are fun okay?

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner fanfic #callum turner au #callum x reader #made by me*#callum turner smut #callum turner fanfiction

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yan-lorkai · 2 months ago

Note

I have a few ask options if you don’t mind? for my man and loml chrollo lucilfer

1) yandere Chrollo with a really cute and sweet darling who loves the colour pink and her whole bedroom is pink and so is her personality, so he kinda fawns and dotes over her and treats her like glass

2) yandere chrollo with a witty sarcastic darling whose nen has been taken away, and they’re at the beach for a fun day

3) yandere Chrollo with a darling who usually begrudgingly shows affection but she’s been hit with an aphrodisiac from some enemy of Chrollo’s or something and so shes drooling for Chrollo and any touch he’ll give and he ofc loves that

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Those were all interesting ideas but being sarcastic to Chrollo made my brain ache in a good way so I'm going with that idea here, darling! Plus shout out to that darling that said it would be funny if the reader had a more Gen z vocabulary, bcs this got hilarious 😂

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

You sit on the warm sand, the waves crashing rhythmically in the distance, the sun bright overhead. It would be a beautiful day at the beach if not for the man lounging beside you, casually reading a book as if he hadn’t practically kidnapped you here.

Chrollo looks calm, almost serene, but you know better. Behind those dark eyes is a predator, waiting, watching, and ready to strike if you step out of line.

You sigh dramatically, tilting your head back and letting the sun soak into your skin. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here for some... ‘fun in the sun’ nonsense. What’s next? Building sandcastles? Catching crabs and shells?” You glance over at him with a smirk, waiting to see if your sarcasm will get a rise out of him.

Chrollo barely lifts his eyes from his book, but the faintest smile tugs at his lips. “Would you rather I kept you locked up inside?” His tone is smooth, unbothered, almost teasing. “I thought a change of scenery might lift your spirits, plus every human being needs some vitamin D.”

“Oh, wow, how considerate of you,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. “You take my Nen, kidnap me, and now you’re trying to act like my sugar daddy or something. Real ‘slay,’ Chrollo.”

This time, he looks up, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. “Slay?” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “Ah, yes. That’s what you say when someone does something impressive, right?”

“You got it, boomer,” you quip, knowing full well that calling him that would only serve to annoy him. You can’t help but grin when you see his eyes narrow slightly. “I mean, if ‘impressive’ is synonymous with ‘murderous psycho who likes playing with his food,’ then yeah, you’re totally slaying.”

He leans closer, setting the book down, and you can feel the shift in the air — the way his attention sharpens on you, even though his expression remains relaxed. “Careful now, darling. I might start thinking you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

You swallow but hold your ground, despite the little thrill of fear creeping up your spine. “Oh, yeah, this is my dream vacation, Chrollo. #KidnapGoals. Maybe I’ll even post about it, if you ever let me have my phone back.”

Chrollo chuckles softly, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re witty, I’ll give you that. But let’s not forget why we’re here. I could have brought you anywhere, yet I chose a place where you could relax. Perhaps you should show a little more gratitude.”

“Gratitude? Pfft, okay, sure. ‘Thanks for ruining my life, now let’s go get ice cream.’” You shoot him a mockingly sweet smile, winking at him while you had the chance. “Honestly, I think you’re the one who needed this beach day. Trying to remind yourself what normal people do for fun?”

Chrollo’s smile widens, and it sends a chill through you. “If I wanted to know what normal people do, I wouldn’t be here with you, darling. But I do enjoy your company. Even if you insist on using those bizarre phrases.”

You can’t help but snort. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m such a vibe, right?”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Indeed. A most intriguing... vibe.” He leans closer, his lips almost brushing your ear, and your breath catches. “But don’t think I’ve forgotten how you keep testing my patience. There are limits, even for you.”

The warning is clear, but you refuse to let it dampen your spirit. “Noted. But if I’m stuck here, I might as well have a little fun, right?”

He pulls back, still smiling, but his eyes are dark, dangerous. “By all means, darling. Have your fun. Just remember, I’m the one who decides when it ends.”

You force yourself to grin, even as your heart pounds loudly on your chest. “Oh, don’t worry, Chrollo. I’m having a blast. Really. #LivingMyBestLife.”

For a moment, there’s silence between you, the sound of the waves filling the space. And then he chuckles again, softer this time, almost as if he’s genuinely amused. “I do enjoy your spirit,” he murmurs, his voice low. “It makes you all the more interesting to keep you around.”

You know better than to push your luck further, so you settle back on the sand, trying to enjoy the sun while you can. Because with Chrollo, you’re never sure how long these moments of “normalcy” will last before he decides to tighten the chains again.

And his smile is far too scarier to look at for more than 5 seconds. You would rather not look, nor hear him chuckling.

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x y/n #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #male yandere

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majoryeager104 · 2 months ago

Text

Meet-Cute

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pro Hero! Touya X Gn!Reader

Summary: Pro hero Touya Todoroki finds a new favorite cafe

a/n: I tooootally didn’t write this bc I’m planning of opening a cafe or anything ✌️🫠

Warnings: Language, that’s about it hehe

It was a long morning for Touya- his work wasn’t gonna do itself, and add that to the fact that his dad was constantly on his ass for the most random things imaginable, as if looking for excuses to berate Touya just to feel better about his own problems. It was exhausting, so Touya, pro hero name Regulus, would just avoid him at all costs.

Even if that meant hiding in the cute little cafe that had just opened down the street from the break in he had just resolved. He looked around as he walked in, the bell on the door cheerily announcing his entrance as the warm smells of coffee embraced his senses- it was nice, comforting. It kind of reminded him of all the times he’d visit mom in the ward, how they’d sit and drink coffee during visiting times. “welcome in!” Said your cheery voice from the counter. He glanced over, seeing you, clearly too busy to recognize him, or even glance over. He supposed that was better, it meant Endeavor was less likely to find him and criticize him for the next hour. He walked up to the counter- wouldn’t hurt to buy something, it’d probably be rude to just walk in and out again without doing so. You turned around to face him as he approached the counter, moving your hair out of your eyes. “Sorry for the wait what can I get for ya?” Touya stared for a moment, because holy shit were you gorgeous. Hair falling over your eyes, messy, but pretty, your soft gaze reflecting your positive mood, and that smile- he snapped back to reality “uh yeah can I get a-“ he glanced back up at the menu- act normal. His blue eyes frantically scanned the menu “uhh just a latte. Plain. Whatever.” He said, his eyes darting back to yours over and over again because wow. You giggled, nodding as you wrote down his order, and gave him the total. He was totally flustered now, looking back at you with an awkward grin as he regained some semblance of composure.

“So this place just opened right?” He said casually, the blush on his face totally negating his attempts to act causal. You nodded simply as he handed you cash for the order. “Since last week” you chirped, beginning his order. “Nice..” he glanced around. The place certainly seemed new, but it was bustling with people- he hadn’t noticed before just how many were looking at him. Of course. He grinned- being the number two hero was definitely gonna go to his head someday.

“what’s the name for the order?” Your voice caught his attention once more and his eyes flicked back to yours, and he paused. “Uh, Touya.” He said simply, pouting a bit. Did you really not know who he was? He watched as you nodded and continued his order. “I’ll let you know when it’s done, Touya” you said casually, going about your routine. This made him pout even further. Really? He watched as you made his coffee, your patient smile catching his eye. You really enjoyed doing this, huh? “Touya!” Your voice sounded out once more, almost startling him as you slid his coffee over the counter towards him. He’d been so transfixed watching you he hadn’t even noticed you were done. He especially hadn’t noticed that Endeavor was walking around outside, clearly looking for him.

Touya grinned at you, taking the small ceramic cup, his hand brushing yours. “Thanks…y/n” his eyes darted to your name tag. Pretty name. Your eyes widened slightly and you giggled- score 1 for Touya. “Of course, Touya. Come back anytime!” You said cheerily, grinning back at him. “Trust me, I will” he winked- your little wide eyed look clearly worked wonders on his confidence because now he was back to his suave self. You giggled again, and he couldn’t help but laugh too, just because your laugh was so damn contagious for him.

He sat down, his eyes lingering on you as he took a sip of the coffee, his gaze darting back out the window. he definitely did a double take when he finally spotted Endeavor, the fuzzy feelings totally replaced with exasperation and man was he glad that he didn’t get a takeout cup. he laughed once more, turning away to watch you work as his dad searched outside. He’d found the perfect hiding spot.

(Part 2?)

Banner Creds to Artist 🙌🙌🙌 lmk if you recognize it in the comments so I can add their tag here 🙏🙏🙏

#bnha dabi #mha dabi #bnha touya #mha touya #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi x reader #touya fluff #touya headcanons #todoroki touya #pro hero au #Spotify #Chloe’s Drabble

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ladykailitha · 4 months ago

Text

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #game show au #tw: pet death #buckingham #not billy hargrove friendly #tommy hagan #everyone is gay

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2knightt · 8 months ago

Note

Hi please do more ponyboy x reader I’m begging there’s not a lot :(

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ how you get the girl ⋄ 𓍯

…in which, you find a folded piece of paper in pony’s room labeled, “how you get the girl.”

tags/warnings: established relationship/early stages, reader is shorter than pony, pony’s a FUCKING LOSER, teasing on readers end, reader’s a dickhead (lovingly).

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ this is totally based off of a miles fic i read long ago but the idea has been jammed into my head

—

‘how you get the girl.’

…huh?

you just thought it’d be a silly funny idea to snoop around in his room when he went to bathroom.

of course, since you’re you, you found a piece of paper—you just had to open it!

“step 1. be cool. (WARNING: DO NOT ASK DALLAS FOR HELP!) maybe soda could help? he got sandy. he’s pretty cool.”

yeah. maybe asking dallas for help isn’t the best option when trying to get girls.

is this what he wrote to help ask you out?

this paper seemed old, stains and rips were on every corner and centre of the paper.

“step 2. look cool. maybe steal some of paul newmans looks? maybe darry has some old shirts? (SODA SAID LESS HAIR GREASE.)”

soda was right. he did look better with less grease. you never got why he thought soda was the better looking brother, when pony’s fresh out of the shower and he’s sprawled over the couch, he looks like a greek god.

maybe you’re just whipped.

“what’s that?”

you jumped out of your skin, being quick to hide the paper. you nervously chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“i-uhm,”

ponyboy tilted his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re hiding.

“what’s the paper?”

he looked suspicious of you, his brows were pinched together as he took a few steps toward you.

“just a paper a friend gave me.”

“what’s it say?”

“nothing.”

you unconsciously loosened your grip on the paper, letting it drop to your feet. ponyboy’s eyes followed it, scanning the tears and rips across it before a light bulb flipped in his head.

“where’d you find that? gimmie it!”

“c’mon, pony! lemme finish readin’ it at least!”

“no! it’s embarrassing, y/n! how much have you even read?!”

his face was beet red, and you’re pretty sure he’s never looked more embarrassed in his life until now.

“not that much!”

when ponyboy reached out to grab the paper, you instinctively turned around to cover the paper in hopes that he couldn’t even graze it.

out of desperation, he put an arm around your waist to bring you closer. with you being stunned(shocked because prior to this, he was embarrassed to even hold hands.), pony quickly leaned over your shoulder and grabbed the paper.

“well? where’d ya find it? do you even know how old this is?”

“like, two weeks?”

“i wish.”

ponyboy mumbled under his breath, taking a few steps away from you as he crumbled the paper into a tiny ball. he shoved it into his pocket, presumably to never be seen again.

his blood was cold from the embarrassment, his face being the only thing that was warm. he had a flush across his face to match his body temperature.

pony looked like he wanted to wipe his and your memory to forget about this. however, you’d rather die than ever forget a moment like this.

despite your teasing, you thought it was all sweet. he just wanted to get you—the girl—without looking like a fool.

although, ponyboy being that empty-headed nerd was what made you fall for him. he didn’t know that, though.

the boy seen your expression soften as you had a small smile plastered across your face. before he had time to comment on what just happened or to ask you what’s with the look, you leaned toward him.

a light kiss was pressed against his cheek, giggles filling the room as you pulled away, only to wrap your arms around his neck.

“you’re too cute, y’know.”

you’re lucky ponyboy didn’t short circuit right then and there. sure, he paused for longer than he’d like to admit. but to his credit, he recovered quickly and acted like nothing had happened. like this level of affection was normal in your relationship.

of course, pony had to get used to it. he was gonna be with you the rest of his life if he had anything to do with it.

his arms were around your waist, his chin resting on the crown on your head.

“i would’ve liked you either way, pony. you didn’t have to act cool for that.”

“…seriously?”

“yeah. i think you being a nerd is cute.”

ponyboy was silent for a moment before a snicker escaped his throat. he kissed the top of your head before speaking up.

“i ain’t a nerd.”

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy imagine #ponyboy blurb #ponyboy drabble

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goddessofroyalty · 26 days ago

Text

Prompt from AO3: I have a request if you don't mind, I wanted to see if Silco ever gets the vibe that he knows Jayce would be a good mate to Viktor by seeing how protective and attentive he is to Viktor's needs and shields him from unwanted criticisms from Piltites snobs and Vander looks at Silco like, "Shit, he reminds me of me." And Silco just likes to make life harder for Jayce just cuz you gotta look out for the best for your eldest, lmao.

A/N:

Didn’t include Vander in this and I had it that Viktor wasn’t there because I think it makes it even stronger for Jayce to still be completely willing to go in to bat for Viktor without knowing either Viktor or Silco are watching.

Tags: omegaverse, discrimination

----------------

The sound of something being slammed on a table echoes through the room, followed by total silence as those in attendance at the Piltover gathering are apparently all stunned by it.

Ridiculous, as far as Silco’s concerned. If he were in the Last Drop it would hardly have even been heard over the revelry of the patrons. Not even worth thinking about without anything else to indicate they might have a fight to breakup before it ends with broken furniture.

In Piltover its worth cutting through the crowd to see which of the so-called ruiling elite has gotten drunk on fizzy wine and made a fool of themselves. It’s not useful in that there is nothing to be gained from the information, but it is a good memory to have when they are trying to block his proposals for them to do something to rectify the harm they are doing to Zaun.

It is not Hoskal like Silco had half expected but Talis that is the source of the noise.

And Viktor’s partner does not look at all that inebriated. The hand resting on the hors d'eurves table next to him seemingly not the result of him trying to catch himself after a drunken stumble that is normally the cause in Piltover for such noises but instead what Silco would expect to find back home – a sign of anger and a show of aggression.

“Say it again,” Jayce says to the man standing in front of him. An investor who clearly thought highly of himself despite coming from one of the lower-Piltover houses going by how he had stuck up his nose to Silco when Piltover’s ridiculous social rules had demanded they must be introduced.

Viktor’s pet Piltite wasn’t too prone to fits of ego. It would be interesting to know what the investor had said that had the boy actually acting like the alpha he apparently was.

“You’re not seriously going to make a big deal over it?” the investor asks with an awkward laugh because he also must be feeling painfully aware that he is smaller than Talis, who, almost uniquely among Piltites, possesses the body of someone who has had to actually work to make a living.

“Say it again,” Jayce repeats. His hand on the table clenching.

Silco spots Councilor Medarda hurrying over from where she had been, coming to intervene before Talis’ behavior tarnishes her reputation by association. Councellor Kiramman also making her way through the watching crowd, waving the Enforcer guards that apparently must be at all Piltite social events over as she does.

The investor gives another little laugh, looking Talis up and down as if he is an idiot. He glances around at the crowd as he stands tall again. Full of cocky Piltite arrogance.

“I don’t know what that Undercity runt gives you but it cannot be worth letting him use your work to prop up whatever criminal dealings he’s involved in.”

Viktor.

The ungrateful spoilt piece of shit that had clearly never known a single hardship in his life had insulted Silco’s son.

“You take that back,” Talis snarls, his hand clenched on the table now in movement.

“Jayce!” Councilor Medarda manages to intercept before it can connect and rightfully knock the Piltite trash to the ground. Her hand gripping hold of Talis’ arm keeping it by his side. And the brief rage that had seemed to fill Talis returns to the usual Piltite authority.

“Oh good,” Talis says when Councilor Kiramman and the Enforcers reach them as well. “You can escort him out.”

“Now hang on-” the piece of shit of an investor says, looking confused that he might face consequences for his actions.

Talis breaks from Councilor Medarda’s grip and faces off the undeserving shit of a man, giving Silco some hope he will still hit him for his insults against Viktor. Actually use the alpha strength he had been given for something other than peacocking for Silco’s child.

“My partner,” Talis starts with a weight on the word that gives no question who he is talking about or the importance of their relationship, “is the reason Hextech exists. And Hextech is the reason we are here tonight. You do not deserve to be here if you would talk about him like that.”

“I-”

Go on, say something that’ll push it. Let’s see if Talis has the balls to actually punch.

“No. Get out,” Talis cuts off, looking at the Enforcers expectantly like they actually give a shit about someone discriminating against a Zaunite. “And you can forget about any deal. Or your family ever being involved with Hextech in the future.”

The message is clear and yet the piece of shit still goes to open his mouth to argue.

“You should leave,” Councilor Medarda tells him with a pointed nod to the Enforcers.

Silco is sure they don’t actually think he’s done anything wrong. But an instruction from a councilor has them ushering him out without any of the force Silco has personally experience from them.

“Well then,” Councilor Kiramman says with a forced, polite smile to those gathered watching the show. “Now that has been dealt with shall we return to what we were doing?”

The sound of Piltite social gathering starts up again forced as it is and Talis seems to deflate. Glancing around as the two Councilors mutter at him. Silco can’t hear what they’re saying from his distance but he is sure it is chastisement for Talis defending his partner.

Silco raises his brow when Talis’ gaze finds his and it has the boy breaking from his two handlers to practically shuffle over. Head hung low like his is a chastised pup and not Piltover’s Golden Boy, who can demand a person removed despite the others in attendance not thinking they did anything wrong.

“I know Viktor can handle himself and doesn’t need protecting,” Talis says, his head low in submission and voice quiet. “And I know it’s nothing new. But I-”

“You don’t need to apologize to me boy,” Silco tells him before Talis ruins the respect he earned from his display.

“I- yes, of course. I know,” Talis mutters. Not that Silco thinks he does at all.

#Arcane #Zaun Family #Arcane omegaverse #omegaverse #Jayvik #Jayce Talis #Silco Arcane #Viktor Arcane #I accidently a ficlet #Prompt Fic #Prompt Fill

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miaowitch · 10 months ago

Text

What Makes a Date? (18+)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Read on Ao3 or below !!

Sam (SDV) / Fem! Farmer OC

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ swearing, smut, porn with plot, grinding over clothes, blowjobs, cumming without warning, sam pov, sams a loser?, canon/oc

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

Sam has two tickets to his favorite band, but none of his friends want to come with him. What does he do instead? Ask the farmer on a totally platonic outing, just as friends with no underlying feelings! Everything should go according to plan, especially the part where he ends up in her house! Right?

5k words

Sam found himself in an odd situation. Two tickets to a concert in Zuzu City, two busy friends, and one available farmer. He’d been talking with Bella for a few months. Every time she came around he couldn’t help feeling like his heart would burst from his chest alien-style, but all in all he tried his hardest to be normal around her. Even if he’d written hundreds of scrapped melodies about her, even if he dreamt of her constantly, even if he wanted her laugh as his alarm clock. Samuel Neilson was a normal 20-year-old who could have hot friends.

He’d been a fan of the band JamPot since middle school, and he figured Sebastian and Abigail would’ve died hearing about the tickets. They were all massive fans in fact, they’d discovered them together on YouTube in fact. Sure, he could only take one, but Sebastian rarely left his house anyway. Abigail was his backup plan for concerts most times, he just liked extending the offer to Seb. Abigail would never turn down the option to go to a concert without paying.

He decided to ask them both on their weekly pool night, Sebastian was riding on his first win of the night and Abigail was lounging on the couch closest to the table. Sam thumbed the tickets in his pocket before working up the courage to ask, “Hey uh-” He started, pulling out the envelope. “Either of you wanna go with me to see JamPot on Saturday?” Sam’s hopeful tone was instantly crushed by their simultaneous rejection. “Sorry, Sammy. I’ve got plans on Saturday.” Abigail finally looked up from her phone to look at his defeated expression. “Yeah, I’ve gotta catch up on work. It wouldn’t be smart to..” Sebastian had just finished setting up the next game, but Sam couldn’t care less. “Whaat?” Sam whined out, leaning on the pool stick now. “I spent 50 on the other ticket, just hoping one of you’d tag along!”

Sebastian, as if he was unbothered by his friend's distress, just rolled his eyes in response. “Just ask Bella.” Beginning the match by hitting the cue ball, managing to hit a solid color into a corner pocket. Sam stood dumbfounded. He didn’t want to go alone, but he also didn’t know if Bella would even agree to the…date? Would it be a date? He pondered for a minute before Sebastian cleared his throat in frustration. “You’re stripes, now play the fucking game, dude.”

The rest of the night, Sam was in a sort of daze, wondering if he was even close enough to the farmer to ask her to a concert. What if she rejected him, thinking it was a date? What if he wanted it to be a date? After his…circumstances with Penny, he wasn’t sure if he should even try to make a move. Walking out of the pub at 11, he was still thinking about Sebastian’s suggestion. Abigail waved goodbye, the one sober member of the group. Sam was slumped on Sebastian’s shoulder, the two held each other up with drunk motivation. “Can I..” Sam sighed, tossing his head back. “Just take me to your basement, Sebby.” He didn’t plan on drinking so much, but he knew his mom would kill him if he walked in wasted. “Whatev’r…” Sebastian slurred back, as he lead Sam around the corner to the mountain path.

Sam didn’t quite remember how he’d gotten to Sebastian’s house. He woke up with a twinging headache, sprawled on the rug next to Sebastian’s bed. An old throw blanket was tossed over top of his body, but no pillow. His mouth was dry, lips cracked slightly as he pried them apart. “Seb…” He groaned, his voice was dangerously hoarse. Clearing it, he called once more as he sat up. “Seb. Get up.” Sam reached up to push at Sebastian’s sleeping back, but only received an angry groan in return. Being friends with Sebastian for so long, he understood that groan as a rejection to waking up.

Sam decided to just leave on his own, his mother was probably concerned about the fact that he hadn’t even come home. The alarm clock on Sebastian’s bedside read off [11:00 am]. He sighed, searching for his shirt that had been thrown off in the night. Picking himself up from the floor, he grabbed his phone, found his shirt, and slipped on his laceless shoes. Hobbling up the stairs was the hardest part, with stiff joints it was hard to even walk a straight line.

“Hello, Sam!” Robin announced to the house as Sam emerged from the basement. He winced at her volume, but still put on a smile. “Hey, Robin, sorry I crashed last night.” Sam adjusted the faded band shirt, hoping she couldn’t tell he’d been half naked two seconds prior. “Seb’s still asleep downstairs, I don’t know if he’s getting up any time soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxious that Robin could still smell the alcohol. She didn’t seem to catch on, laughing softly. “Oh, Sam, you don’t have to apologize for staying over.” She sat back in the chair behind the front counter. “You two always stay up so late at night, at least you’re having fun.”

Sam said his goodbyes, walking out the front door and closing it silently for the sake of his aching head. He took a deep breath, feeling around in his pocket for his phone to text his mom that he was headed home. Instead, Sam found the tickets that cursed him. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself, but apparently not quiet enough. Bella was rounding the corner at that very moment.

“Fuck what?” She appeared with a sly, teasing smile. Sam felt his throat tighten up. “Me?” He replied with a violent voice crack. Sam couldn't help feeling like an ass when Bella was around. Something about her jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and….assets? He didn't want to disrespect her, she was a nice friend. Why would he talk about her like that? He respected her too much.

Bella laughed, harmoniously (to Sam). While covering her smile, which killed Sam, she dropped it after her giggles. A happy sigh escaped her, straightening up to really get a good look at him. “You look rough.” Bella spoke with almost a hinge of concern, looking him up and down. Sam had been so caught up in overthinking, he forgot completely about why he had been overthinking. “Rough? Yeah, I guess I feel the same too.” His hand nervously rubbed at his neck, Sam had a habit of doing it. “A-Actually I had a question for you!” Bella cocked her head, Sam felt his stomach toss.

Bella was a girl who loved music. It was her and Sam’s first conversation. Wearing an old TilledSoil shirt, a band Sam had seen upwards of 10 times. After their hour of conversation on their favorite bands, Sam deemed Bella to be cool. He knew she would agree to going to a free concert with him, but was he even confident enough to ask her out? “What’s up?” Bella asked, now actually concerned for Sam. He’d been clutching the tickets for the entire time. The ticket envelope crumpled in his grip. “Do you wanna go to a concert with me- If you’re not busy or- or anything.” He felt like a total ass.

There was no reason for her to actually reject him, but every bone in his body was cringing out. Standing in front of his best friend’s house, asking someone to go on a maybe-date. If Sebastian had been awake, he’d be instantly cooked. “What band?” Bella spoke up to break the internal panic that fogged his brain. That and the hangover headache. “JamPot!” Sam blurted out, making his headache come back with a vengeance. “They’re just…some dumb pop punk band from overseas.. I just have another ticket!” Yet she was already smiling, “JamPot? I don’t think I’ve listened to them since middle school!” Pulling out her phone, she looked back up at him. “When’s the show?”

Sam seemingly forgot every single detail about the show in that very minute. After frantically opening the envelope to look at the tickets, he looked back up. “Tomorrow, doors at 7?” Bella then started looking through her phone for a moment. “I’ll drive too! All you gotta do is tag along!” Sam wasn’t trying to beg, but god, he just didn’t want to waste the money. She looked back up with a smile, “Deal, I’m free to go tomorrow.” Stammering to himself for a moment, Sam finally got out a sentence. “Cool! I’ll pick you up at 6?” Bella agreed, and Sam floated back into town on a high.

Sure, his mom was pissed, and he was slightly late to work. Sam just couldn’t care. He was just really excited to hang out with his friend Bella. There wasn’t anything else lingering there, no matter how many times Sebastian and Abigail brought it up. This was just two really good friends going to hang out at a concert. Getting close, and sweaty…and doing normal friend things. Sam wasn’t going to ruin anything. Surely.

Sebastian and Abigail heard the ‘news’ from him over a text, both were convinced it was going to end in Sam’s demise. Abigail bet on Bella thinking it was a date, but Sam shut her down immediately. There’s no way Bella would think it was a date. Even as he put a little bit of extra time into getting ready the next day, he was positive that Bella was on the same page as him. After assuring himself that his hair was perfectly quaffed, he headed out to pick up Bella.

His car was just a hand-me-down from Jodie, her old car from before they’d gotten a family van. Sam wasted a few minutes throwing trash from the passenger to the backseat. Scrambling just to make it to the farm at six. Pelican Town wasn’t the most drivable, but it was still nice to have a car for longer trips. He just hoped it was comfortable enough for Bella. Not that it was a big deal, of course, she was just like every other friend. He just wanted her to enjoy her first ride in his car.

Sam arrived at the farm at 5:52, pulling into the gravel driveway just after he was done freaking out about being late. He fixed his hair in the rearview mirror, fussing over nothing at all. Waiting for just another minute, he was too impatient and honked at the horn once. He didn’t have her number, but he also wasn’t sure if he could just walk up to the front door. What if she thought he was rushing her? At the moment Sam honked– Bella opened her front door. A black cat ran from the house, and Bella locked up the front door. Sam was leaning on the steering wheel, watching her. When she looked at him with a smile, he instantly straightened up. His palms were grossly sweaty, and suddenly he felt underdressed.

Bella walked to the passenger side of the car. Sam for a moment felt compelled to brush off the seat before she sat down, but still held himself back. Sharing greetings, Sam took a moment to really look at her. Trying to get his breath back, he smiled. “Ready for the show?” Sam managed to get out, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Bella could probably wear a burlap sack and look good, but her black skinny jeans and cropped tee suited her perfectly. Bella smiled back, buckling in. “You know it.”

It was hard to pay attention to the road with her in the passenger seat. Bella wasn’t distracting in a bad way, but Sam couldn’t help wondering what the feeling in his gut was. He just didn’t want to mess anything up. The drive wasn’t boring by any means, Bella and Sam talked the whole way there. Bella mentioned listening to JamPot’s new album, and Sam had to hold himself back from gushing about each detail in the chord progressions. But– It wasn’t long until he did start gushing about it. It was really difficult for Sam to not spill every thought around her. Normally, people would just grin and bare it while Sam rambled about music, but Bella listened to him. She seemed like she really was interested, a rare find. The drive and the time spent waiting in line was mostly just the pair talking about shared interests. Finding out she also preferred Hawaiian Pizza was a game changer for him.

The venue was old. It’d been there since the early 70s, but was still kept up with. High ceilings, low concrete floors and bars located on both sides. It was already halfway packed in, the merch tables weren’t busy either. Small fairy lights decorated the trim of the brick walls, highlighting the merch tables easily.

When they were actually in the venue, Bella split off to find the merch table while Sam grabbed a spot on the floor. “I’ll see you in a few.” She smiled, softly placing a hand on his upper arm before walking off. Before Sam melted to the sticky concrete, he had to text his friends. Sending a frantic text to Sebastian, Sam felt his head swimming. [ “Is this a date?” ] He typed the words with nervous, shaking thumbs. Sam was wrong, kicking himself in the ass. What if he was in the process of destroying any chance with Bella? What if he did like her more than he was allowing himself?

[ “Yes.” ] Sebastian responded, Sam mentally crumbled.

This was the issue with Sam. He didn’t read the room properly, didn’t understand most situations. It’s what ruined a lot of past relationships for him. Bella didn’t seem like she was hating their conversations, but girls were just so confusing to him. During his overthinking, Bella returned. A new beanie on her head, and a CD in her hand. The new JamPot album. “I got this for you, I wasn’t sure if you had it already.” Holding it out to him, Bella had no clue what had been occurring in Sam’s head. “What?! I’ll pay you back, Bella, I swear.” All fear dropped from his mind, her presence was enough for him to stop overthinking. She shook her head, “It’s for the ticket, don’t worry about it.” Bella’s hand touched his arm again. Soothing his anxiety, but slightly raising his blood pressure.

After each of the two openers, Bella and Sam kept getting closer and closer. The crowd crushed together in excitement, filling the air with the heat of upwards of 200 people. “Are you okay?” Sam spoke up, bending to Bella’s ear just so she could hear him. She responded with a thumbs up, but still moved closer to Sam. Somehow they’d pressed forward to the barricade, in the middle-left. The headliner hadn’t come on yet, but Sam was preparing. His hands were holding the barricade, with Bella standing between them. He knew she’d be fine on her own in the crowd, but he wanted to keep her safe. The crowd had been rough all night, the openers being much heavier than JamPot, but Sam didn’t want her getting crushed against anyone else.

Music played across the loudspeakers to fill the silence for the crowd during the stage set. The energy throughout the show had made him less high-strung, less worried on the topic of their night. “You’re having fun, right?” Sam asked, again at a higher volume, just so she could hear him. Bella nodded, leaning against the barricade and looking up at him. “Thanks for bringing me, Sam!” She hadn’t been able to stop smiling that night.

It was honestly rare that Sam had seen her leave the farm. She and Abigail hung out by the mines occasionally, and he’d see her on walks by the water. Sam just rarely saw her doing anything out of Pelican Town in the few months they’d known each other. He liked taking her out, taking her places with him. “N-No problem.” Feeling that same tossing in his stomach, for some reason his face felt hotter. Maybe it was just the room?

If Sam thought the first half of the show was close quarters, he wasn’t ready for the second half. Pressing up tightly to Bella’s back as she jumped around was the hardest thing Sam had to endure. On one hand, Bella was safe and comfortable at the barricade, while Sam had to get knocked into continuously. On the other, every single movement against Sam’s dick was like the purest form of torture. It’s not like she was grinding into him, but every once in a while they’d make contact when Bella would start jumping around. Gritting his teeth through it, Sam stood strong. Even if he ached, feeling the slightest brush of her hair against him. Her perfume with hints of clove, brushing by him, was his own heaven. The only thing Sam could circle back to at that moment was the original question.

Was it a date? Sam really tried to focus on the band, but how could he? He’d tune in for a song, then get lost in thought, staring at the back of Bella’s head. The end of the show came quicker than he’d been paying attention. The encore was really just one song, then the whole night was over. Sam felt like an ass, once again, for letting his mind wander all night. Walking out of the venue, Sam stayed close behind Bella. He felt like he’d been a weird freak all night, he just watched her. Bella didn’t notice anything, she’d been talking about how great the show was all the way to the car. Sam bantered back, acting as if he had really watched the concert.

After finally making it to the car, everything sort of shifted. Bella felt a little shyer now that they were fully alone. “Um– Sam?” She asked, as Sam put his keys in to start the car. “Yeah, Bella?” He looked over to her, the radio in the car started playing some obnoxious radio song. The CD hadn’t been automatically reading, so he reached up to press the button. “Well, I just wanted to thank you for taking me on this date. I really had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

Sam froze in place.

Date? It was a Date?

The annoying pop track played its repetitive tune. Sam was staring at Bella with a dumb look on his face. “It was a–?” He managed to catch himself before saying his first thought, “Right– Well, I just thought..” His extended hand toward the stereo retracted, holding the back of his neck to feel at any beads of sweat. “I just thought it was about time, y’know?” A goofy grin cracked on his face, feeling suddenly free of his worries. “Me too..” Bella had been messing with a strand of hair framing her face. “I really appreciate it, Sam. We should really do this again, okay?” She smiled again, softly. The fluorescent lights in the garage gave her an outer glow, a soft halo on her black hair. Sam had to look away before he forgot the route home.

Still, a sort of tension lingered in the car. They talked like normal, joking about the show. They talked about typical things from the daily special at the saloon, to weather during the week. Sam considered for a moment that he was just being dense, not understanding the palpable pauses between each topic. Bella adjusted in her seat every few minutes, Sam could’ve sworn he caught her looking his way every few minutes. His energy was high from the concert’s atmosphere, so maybe his mind was just working overtime.

Eventually, though, they made it to Bella’s home. Pulling in the same gravel driveway as a few hours prior. Sitting in silence for a moment, neither truly wanted the night to be over with. Bella finally offered though, “Sam, I think I might have a pizza in the house. If you’re hungry or something..” Bella played with the fabric of her beanie, now clutched in her lap. Her hair was slightly messed up from hat hair, but to Sam, she hardly looked imperfect.

“Yeah, uh.. I don’t see why not.” Sam turned off the car a little too enthusiastically. Mentally high-fiving himself for making it this far. Considering how the situation started, he didn’t even think he’d be in a car with Bella. Let alone be on a date with Bella. It was only midnight, his mom knew he’d be back late, so Sam didn’t have any reason to say no.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I don’t normally have people over..” She apologized, unlocking the door with a set of keys attached to a decorated keychain. Sam figured it would probably be cleaner than his room, and he was right in assumption. Bella was exaggerating. Only a couple of cups laid on the coffee table, a few sweatshirts and jackets were draped on one of the dining room tables, and burnt out candles littered the main living room. “It’s not messy, don’t worry.” Sam made sure to close the door behind him, only slightly jumping when a black cat ran through the house and towards the bedroom.

Sam quickly followed Bella into the kitchen, where she was staring at the box of frozen pizza branded with JojaMart logos. “Have you had this before?” She asked with a pensive tone, looking over her shoulder and back at Sam standing in the doorway. He felt a knot in his throat. “Please, I think I’ve had every frozen pizza in the Joja aisles.” Sam tried to push past it, leaning on the dining table to keep himself from collapsing.

“It says it’ll take 30 minutes, can you wait that long?” Bella set the box on the counter and turned to him. It was one of those fancier brands with a rising crust. “I could make us some sandwiches if you’re too tired, I know I’m already keeping you out pretty late..” Her lips pursed in thought, but Sam scrambled. “I-I can wait!” Bella began opening the box, and setting the frozen disk pizza onto the tin tray. Watching her preheat the oven, Sam felt his heart race. Two peers, in a house…alone. Sam hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Sure, he’d kept a condom in his wallet, but that didn’t mean he just expected to get laid. He wasn’t that cocky. He understood that they were just two friends, fresh off an unexpected date. Two very available people that liked each other a considerable amount. Sam just knew the kind of guy that he was. He wasn’t the type to hold off if he wanted something. And god, did he want Bella.

She turned around now, unaware of the horrible thoughts in Sam’s brain. He wondered if he should just go home. “Well, we’ve got a 30-minute wait… anything you wanna do while we wait?” Bella took a few steps closer, setting the flannel she was wearing on the kitchen table behind Sam. “You.” He felt tempted to say his desires out loud, but held himself firm. “Oh, I could just watch TV if you want.” He was lying, but it was late. Sam doubted that she was that into him.

Following Bella into her living room, he took a spot on one end of her blue, velvet couch. Bella placed herself on the other side after getting the remote to her tiny television set. She sat forward, stiff as she tapped through channels, just trying to find something to fill their silence. The tension between the two was thick, Sam just tried to relax. Leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable. It was almost 11 at night, there was nothing to be worried about. As if the notorious early bird farmer Bella would stay up much later than 12.

A couple of minutes passed, but Bella didn’t seem to relax. Sam kept stealing glances, but each time she would lock eyes with him. Her panic hidden as she looked back to the boring music documentary they landed on. “Are you comfortable?” Sam finally offered, figuring that it was an innocent question. Bella finally looked at him, “Um… Well…” She shifted in her seat, “I guess not, I just can’t rest after concerts..” Bella seemed almost embarrassed, “I just have such a hard time laying down..”

Sam opened an arm at the instant. “C’mere then, I’ll show you how to relax, Bella.” He didn’t have bad intentions at all. Sebastian was the same way, you had to force him down to get any sleep after going through concert adrenaline. Sam had no problem getting cozy, he just wanted to help her out.

He was more than surprised when she actually agreed to it, Bella gladly crawled over to lay on his chest. Sam positioned himself to lay along the couch, one hand behind his head to pad the hard arm of the couch. Bella just draped herself on the inside of the couch, pressed onto him, but hardly comfortable. She still felt like she wasn't quite comfortable, so Sam let a hand creep down and rub the space between her shoulders. A sigh released, and Bella let her guard down.

Sam’s hand continued to rub circles around her back, and Bella’s sighs became more frequent. Every shift she’d make against his thigh, every shudder as his hand shifted to her mid-back. He wasn’t sure what he was doing to make her react that way, but he’d always been told he had magic hands when it came to massages. “Are you still comfortable?” He asked again, not sure why he was whispering. Bella could hardly be heard as she softly moaned at his touch. Sam felt himself going insane as their eyes met. Her lashes fluttered, his heart could’ve given out at any time.

It only took a second for Sam to realize what was actually going on. Bella moved up, now straddling him to the couch. A mere centimeter away from his lips as she felt her own hesitation. “Bella? C-Can we…” Sam started, but Bella cut him off. Their lips met with sparks under Sam’s skin. His hands drifted to her waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumb as their tongues mingled. One of Bella’s hands moved to his hair, lacing together with gelled, blonde strands. Even lightly brushed against his hair almost made him burst, but whatever Bella was doing to him made him weaker to the touch.

Their kiss broke with Sam panting, holding on tighter with one hand on Bella’s waist. Basically guiding her to grind against the center of his crotch. “Ohhh… Oh god, Bella…” Sam couldn’t help begging for her, what else was he supposed to do with a beautiful woman on his dick? Her hips gyrated, moving forwards and back to tease at his quickly hardening cock.

It’d been too long for Sam. He didn’t fool around as much as he had before Bella came to town, but she was enough to dedicate his life to a monogamous relationship. “Y-You’re so fucking good, holy shit…” He gasped as her hands trailed up his chest. Holding herself firm as she now stopped and held herself up. Moving down, she positioned herself between his legs. Sam propped himself up, sweaty and confused. Watching Bella lay on her stomach with a determined look in her eyes, she understood her intentions as she unbuckled his checkered belt. Her soft hands pulled down blue checkered boxers, taking in everything slowly.

Sam’s ears were burning hot, he threw his head back to avoid her seeing his embarrassment. Bella, on the other hand, slid her hand around his cock with love. Licking her lips with anticipation as she took it all in. Gently kissing the blushing head of his cock, leaking precum and begging for more. Sam writhed under her, missing her lips after every sweet peck down the shaft. He begged, desperate for something that wasn’t a teasing kiss. Bella listened, smiling devilishly as she swept her long black hair behind her.

Bella’s hands firmly stayed on Sam’s hips, making sure he wasn’t bucking too hard. Her mouth wrapped around him warmly, lowering slowly to halfway, then bobbing back up. “S-Shit..” Sam cursed, biting his lip to stop from exclusively swearing. His right hand gripped at the back of the couch, while his left hand trailed to Bella’s head. Softly petting as she moved with intention. Her big eyes looking up as if she wasn’t melting him with each move she made.

“B-Bella slow down, Please-” She bobbed faster, and stopped teasing him. His hand now gripped in her hair, inky black strands lacing between his fingers. “Fuck- Fuck, you’re so good to me, Wh-” Sam’s rambling was cut short by his body near folding from her mouth hitting the base of his cock. Sam wasn’t monstrously lengthy, but he was still slightly longer than average. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t getting very many blowjobs, he’d just assumed deepthroating didn’t exist. Tortuously, she moved her mouth up, with her tongue pressed to the bottom of his shaft. Sam couldn’t keep his mouth closed. A mixture of her name, whimpering, and swears poured out as she worked her head up and down. His head pounded, a whooshing in his ears grew louder.

Without warning her, Sam crumpled under her. Cumming into her mouth, now holding onto her head gently to keep her still. Bella moaned, the vibrations only making him moan out louder as he bottomed out. She pulled herself off as his hands fell, a quiet ‘pop’ broke the humming in his head. As she got up and left towards the kitchen. He’d realized the timer started going off when Sam heard the creaking of her oven door. “Bella?” Sam called out, almost missing her after she left the room. A second later, Bella’s head peeked around the wall of the kitchen. “Do you still want pizza?” She acted like she hadn’t just been on his cock, like she still couldn’t taste him in her throat.

“No, I think I want something else.” He propped himself up, smiling back at her.

#`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · love notes #`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · 18+#`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · drabbles #sam sdv #stardew valley #sdv #sdv x oc #sam sdv x reader #sam sdv x oc #sdv x reader #stardew valley fanfic #sdv smut

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training4theapocalypse · 2 years ago

Text

Thirsty (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: SMUT, Mutual pining, Romance, Canon typical descriptions of murder and violence, Dubious consent (they are both kind of drunk), Oral (fem receiving), P in V, Safe sex (male condom), Multiple orgasms

Summary: Your job restocking vending machines takes you to businesses all over Evergreen - including Fennel Fields where the cute busboy keeps making eyes at you. (Based on this ask by @kpopgirlbtssvt)

A/N: There’s a part where Adrian picks the reader up over his shoulder but he is a very strong boi, I am confident he could shoulder carry any thirsty MF. PS My toxic trait is that I slip a reference to Scotland in literally everything I write.

Masterlist

Tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982,

Chapter text:

The muscles in your forearms ache as you drag your hand cart, stacked with cases of soda and water, up the ramp at the back of Fennel Fields.

You wheel your final delivery of the day straight into their break room, as usual, and park your cart beside the vending machine, ready to start your restock. You’re greeted amicably by the staff, who know you well enough that they’re not surprised to see you.

But one particularly familiar face spots you from across the room and practically leaps off his chair. Adrian Chase looks forward to your weekly trip to Fennel Fields, and today he can’t help but notice the glow on your face from hauling your delivery. He wonders what else makes your face glow like that. He bets he could.

“Hey, stranger,” you say, and he blinks at you as if snapping out of something.

“Stranger? It’s me, Adrian.”

You grin. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not but either way, you find it sort of cute. And, yes, Taylor warned you to stop flirting with the hot but kind of dorky busboy because he’s gonna end up catching feelings, but there’s something fun about getting him all flustered and making his cheeks burn.

“I know, Adrian. I could never forget that pretty face,” you tease. He turns slightly pink. There it is. “Thirsty?” you ask.

“Yup, and wait til you see what I got you.”

This has been your routine at Fennel Fields for a few months now. You pick up some speciality soda while you’re delivering beverages across Washington and Adrian brings you something- usually a snack or anything else he thinks you might like.

“Three… two… one.” At the same time, you pull the soda out from your bag and Adrian hands you a small, blue rectangular box.

A cassette tape. Aqua- Aquarium.

“Adrian! This is so sick- it’s so hard to find tapes these days.” You flip it over to read the tracklist. “I fucking love Barbie Girl.”

“Me too! And I noticed your Walkman, so I thought you could use some more music.” He looks down at the orange and blue soda can in his hands, reading the label. “IRN BRU?”

“This is the weirdest soda I’ve found yet. It’s like bubblegum cream soda but it burns.”

He cracks it open, takes a sip and looks confused. “I think I like it?” He takes another sip. “It’s like my mouth hates it but needs more.”

“I know, right?” You put the cassette in your bag and open the vending machine.

“Thanks for the soda.” He nods at your tired arms as you start loading in your delivery. “Sick forearm pump, by the way.”

“Uh, what?”

“Yeah! You can totally tell you’ve been working on them- they’re huge.”

You raise an eyebrow. It’s probably meant as a compliment, but you’re not sure how you feel about Adrian talking to you like you’re one of his bros at the gym.

“I mean- not huge! Like normal. But nice. And-“

“Have you seen Taylor?” You decide to step in before he can dig this particular hole any deeper. “I need him to sign for this.”

“What’s up, Cuz?” Taylor appears from around a corner.

You hold out your electronic POS and stylus, awaiting his signature. “Just need you to sign this, then I’m done for the night.”

“Nice!” says Adrian “You got any plans after this?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you tease him, a small balloon swells up in your chest with excitement. You’ve never been sure whether Adrian’s always so excited to see you because he likes you or if he just really likes soda.

“Uh, me, Adrian. Remember?”

“Hey man, what did I tell you about hitting on my cousin?” Taylor gives him a stern look. “Don’t you have a pregnant girlfriend to be worried about?”

You’re surprised, to say the least. The fact that Adrian has a girlfriend (a pregnant one at that) but he still goes out of his way to exchange gifts with you every week is kind of disappointing. It reaffirms your belief that there are no decent men in this town.

“Yes! I mean, no. We, uh, we broke up.”

“Because of the party you tried to throw her?” asks Taylor.

Aw, that’s kind of sweet.

“Uh, yeah, she did not appreciate the abortion party.”

What the fuck?

Taylor signs for the delivery and hands you back the device, giving you a meaningful look- I told you so. The balloon of excitement in your chest feels well and truly punctured.

“But I mean, I’m not hung up on her or anything. I actually dumped her.”

Yup, no decent men alright.

You and Taylor exchange glances. You can practically hear the wet raspberry of the balloon deflating completely.

“I’d better go. Thanks for the tape, dude,” you say a little more coolly than you’d intended in your hurry to hide your dismay before wheeling your cart out of the break room.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Adrian’s voice calls from behind you, but Taylor grabs the door before he can.

“I got it, man.”

Taylor walks with you to the van. You lean up against the cab door in exasperation. Taylor offers you a cigarette which you go to accept, but he retracts the packet.

“Nuh-uh, let’s hear it first.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “You are so full of wisdom, as always, and I will forever heed your dating advice from now until the end of time,” you concede to Taylor, snatching a cigarette. He grins and lights you both up.

“Y’know what the weird thing is? I don’t think he ever had a girlfriend.”

You exhale a puff of smoke in surprise. “What was that about then?”

“I dunno. I caught him out here celebrating one night, and he made up a weird abortion party story. I think he was really out here dancing because Peacemaker came into the restaurant-“

“Peacemaker?! Jeez, isn’t that guy in jail?”

“Musta released him. But I think Adrian was being an excited fanboy and got embarrassed when I saw him. Dude’s a serial liar- I thought he’d come clean if I asked him about it in front of you.”

You lean your head back against the van. “Where are all the decent men in Evergreen?” You lament and start rhyming off, counting on your fingers. “They’re either obsessed with capes, racists, racist capes or racists who are obsessed with capes!”

“Well, speaking of capes, it’s getting dark. You better hit the road before you run into that nutcase, Vigilante.”

“Yeah, or the escaped gorilla,” you laugh, stubbing out your cigarette.

“Put that in the trash or you’ll end up with a bullet in your head for littering.”

“I’ve charmed my way out of worse situations. Besides, maybe he’ll be the one to sweep me off my feet.”

“Vigilante? Or the gorilla?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’d take either.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, your delivery route sends you off down the highway. It’s not a glamorous job, stocking vending machines at different businesses all over the place, but it’s easy, and you can listen to your own music. It takes you all across this little corner of Washington, and the more you see, the more grateful you are that you get to live in this beautiful, rocky state.

Even if there isn’t a single eligible man to be found on your entire route. You still feel a little crestfallen thinking about Adrian Chase. Why was he so intent on lying to Taylor yesterday? How deep does his Peacemaker obsession go if he was that embarrassed?

You pull up to the back of the Glan Tai bottling plant on the outskirts of Evergreen, put on your headphones and turn on your Walkman. You want to keep a low profile because the clients are much weirder here than the rest- Adrian Chase excluded.

They weren’t always like this. The facilities manager at Glan Tai was a friendly old man - Clive- who let you use their bathroom, and gave you filter coffee from a polystyrene cup to ease your two-hour journey home. Until one day recently, Clive wasn’t so friendly anymore. New management, you expected.

Head down, you drag your cart through the service entrance and make your way to their storage room. Aqua blasts in your ears as you wheel your way along the corridor. There are loud bangs and the ground vibrates slightly, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary in a site with heavy machinery.

You get to the room where they keep the IT equipment, files and vending machine and start unloading. You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and pull your headphones down around your neck.

“Oh, sorry Clive, I didn’t see you-“

You freeze, icy fear spreading through your veins as you find yourself face to face with - you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me - the escaped gorilla from the zoo.

You scream. Loudly.

Two people burst into the room, startling the gorilla. It backs away from you. For a second, you think they’re factory workers running to your rescue. But they slam and bolt the storage room door shut behind them.

“No! Unlock the door!”

They whip around and point their guns at you. You drop the case of water you’re holding and hold your hands up in surrender.

One of them, you recognise from the news. A man in a black and teal suit, armed to the hilt, with his face almost entirely obscured- except by a red visor covering his eyes.

It’s him. It’s Vigilante. And a blonde woman you don’t recognise.

He lowers his gun and nudges hers away from your direction.

“Shoot her before she kills us both!” snaps the woman, irritated.

“She’s not a butterfly,” says Vigilante, his voice muffled behind his mask. “I know her.”

He knows me? How?

“I’m just delivering water, I swear!” You beg her, looking between them.

Just then, the gorilla appears from behind the shelves and launches the blonde woman across the room.

An involuntary yelp of shock escapes you again and the gorilla returns its attention to you. Thinking fast, you tip your cart forward, and the giant ape trips up on the cascade of cans and bottles.

“You didn’t think to tell us there was a gorilla in here?!” Comes the annoyed blonde woman’s voice from behind a broken table.

“I was preoccupied with the guns in my face!”

The door to the storage room is blasted open and another woman bursts in, followed by none other than Peacemaker.

Adrian would lose his shit right now, you think to yourself.

Peacemaker looks at you through the eyeholes of his helmet “She’s clear, Adebayo” and the other woman lowers her gun. The gorilla gets up. “Oh shit!” says Peacemaker as it sends a swipe in your direction, sending you tumbling off your feet and onto the floor.

You cower in the corner as they fight the gorilla. Vigilante stabs it but it bats him away easily and does the same to the woman called Adebayo. Peacemaker launches himself onto the gorilla’s back but the beast throws him off onto the hard floor.

“Die, human!”

Did that gorilla just speak? What have you gotten yourself into?

The gorilla raises its fists, ready to crush Peacemaker, when a man with an oddly patchy beard runs through the door, chainsaw in hand and proceeds to kill the gorilla, sawing it almost in half and sending blood splattering everywhere.

A small winged creature crawls out of the dead gorilla’s mouth. The blonde woman gets to her feet and shoots it casually. What the…? Was that some kind of parasite?

The gunshot leaves your ears ringing but hearing your name whispered in your ear brings you back to reality. You blink stupidly at Vigilante, who is now crouched down inches from your face and you try to make out his eyes through the red visor. You know those eyes. But how? How does the mass murderer of Evergreen know you?

He hooks his arms under yours, lifts you to your feet and wipes the smattering of blood off your face. Your heart is racing as you continue to stare at him silently, dumbfounded. You know you should be scared of this masked man, who’s wanted on multiple counts of murder. But here he is, claiming he knows you, making sure you’re okay.

“What do we do with her?” asks the bearded man with the chainsaw.

“Who, me?” you try and sound nonchalant. “I didn’t see anything. I’ll just get out of your beard- hair! I mean hair.” You go to put your headphones back over your ears but the blonde woman rips them off.

“Hey!” Vigilante steps between you and her. “Look, she’s cool. She says she didn’t see anything, so she didn’t”

“How do you know she’s not a butterfly?” she challenges Vigilante.

“X-ray helmet,” interjects Peacemaker. “No butterfly in that pretty little noggin.” He winks at you and Vigilante bristles, folding his arms in an irritated sort of way.

“Listen, I’ve got like four more deliveries today so…” You trail off as your body starts to go on autopilot. There’s an awkward silence as they watch you bustle around, stacking the blood-covered cases of water and soda back onto your cart.

“She’s clearly in shock,” says Adebayo, more gently than the blonde.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” says a muffled voice from behind you.

‘Hey, let me help you with that.’

In the exact same cadence as yesterday.

“A-Adrian?” you say hoarsely and you turn back around in time to watch Vigilante drop the case of water. “Adrian Chase?!” you repeat, your voice slightly hysterical.

“No!” says Adrian unconvincingly but at the same time Peacemaker says:

“Godammit Vij. How does she know you?”

Adrian groans in frustration. “She delivers drinks to my job too!”

“That settles it- she’s a witness and she knows Vigilante’s identity. Adebayo, you need to end this. Don’t make her beg for her life like the other guy,” commands the blonde woman, clearly in charge of the team.

“Nonononononono,” Adrian stands in front of you with his arms folded. “No way. I am not letting you kill her.”

“That’s an order, Adebayo. Vigilante- move.”

“Wait,” says the guy with the beard. “She might actually be useful, Harcourt.”

Harcourt raises her eyebrows. “Well?”

“We’re looking for other leads, right? Other places where the butterflies are?” He looks at you. “Hey, water girl. Does this company have any other locations?”

“Y-yes,” your throat feels dry.

“Can you tell us where they are?” he asks.

“Will you let me live if I tell you?”

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans. “Fine. But we’re gonna need to figure out what to do with her to keep her from blabbering.”

“C’mon, she already said she was cool!” says Adrian.

“And you trust her?”

“One hundo percent.” He gives you a reassuring thumbs up.

“I wouldn’t trust his judgement,” says Peacemaker and you immediately feel faint. It must be obvious on your face because he backtracks. “No! Not that we should kill her! Definitely not. But Adrian would trust any hot girl. We can’t just let her go.”

Harcourt pinches the bridge of her nose as she thinks.

“Vigilante,” she says finally. “I’m telling Murn that water girl is your responsibility. You’re going to keep her with you 24/7 until the mission is over. Any fuck-up, if she does or says anything that jeopardizes our objective, she’s dead and you’ll be doing black ops in Belize. Got it?”

“Cool, got it!” says Adrian enthusiastically, as if that isn’t the most horrifying thing he’s ever heard.

“Wait, don’t I get a say in this? I have a job! I have people who will be looking for me.”

“Do you want to cooperate or do you want to die?”

“Which one do you wanna do?” asks Adrian.

If you hadn’t already figured out that Vigilante was Adrian Chase, that would have been the dead giveaway.

A few moments later, Adrian is leading you by the hand back through the factory to where your van is parked while you cover your eyes with one hand. He had suggested it after your knees almost gave way when you saw the pile of bodies at the door. And he liked that you had rejected Peacemaker’s offer to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you out.

“Oh, no… Clive,” you whisper, making the mistake of opening your eyes and seeing the old man crumpled on the floor, next to the coffee machine. You cover your eyes again.

“Watch you don’t slip in the blood here,” says Adrian gently, guiding you to side-step.

You groan. You think you might puke.

“I can’t believe you killed all these people,” you whisper, wishing you could disassociate from this whole thing.

“We didn’t, not really- I promise. I’ll explain on the ride home.”

Harcourt instructs Adrian to drive your van, following theirs back to Evergreen. When you’re both out of earshot and in your van, Adebayo sits in the driver’s seat turning to Harcourt, Peacemaker and Economos. “Isn’t it kind of weird seeing Vigilante like this?”

“Like what?” asks Economos.

“Like, compassionate, sweet… not all hell-bent on murder?”

Peacemaker shrugs “He’s like this all the time. You should hear the way he talks about this other girl, his friend Taylor’s sister, or cousin, I think. He’s just a sucker for anyone who’s nice to him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, you’re sitting on the couch in your apartment, waiting for Adrian to finish up in the shower.

On the drive to their headquarters, Adrian had explained all about their mission and how an alien race called ‘the butterflies’ had taken over the bodies of (and, therefore, killed) all those people in the factory long before Adrian’s team had arrived.

At headquarters, you had told them everything you knew about your clients at Glan Tai and had given them the coordinates for their other delivery location- a small farm thirty miles north of the factory. Murn seemed to be satisfied with your intel and approved of Harcourt’s plan to have Adrian keep you under close surveillance. Great.

Adrian grabbed his go-bag from his Sebring and drove the two of you in your van back to your apartment, where you immediately ran to the shower, to try and rid yourself of all the negative feelings from today.

He now appears in your living room, fresh out of the shower in a pale blue t-shirt and jeans, looking much less out of place than when he was in his full combat gear. But he still stands awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself.

“Thirsty?” you ask him. “I’ve got wine.”

“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

You find two wine glasses and place them on the coffee table. He sits on the edge of your couch. “What am I gonna do, Adrian?” You open up a bottle of red wine and start pouring. “I could barely stand seeing all that shit at the factory. Do you really think I’m gonna kill you?” You slide a glass towards him and start filling your own.

He looks down at the wine but doesn’t touch it. You raise your glass. “To forgetting the worst day of my life.”

“The worst day of your life? Today was awesome!” He looks genuinely surprised that you’re not sharing his elation. “We killed a ton of butterflies, and now thanks to you, we know where they keep their cow.”

It’s a sentence that wouldn’t have made sense to you a few hours ago. And you hate that it does now.

“We’re saving the world,” he continues. “And you helped!”

You push his wine glass closer to him. “To saving the world, then.”

He takes a sip and screws up his face. “Do you have any beer? Ooh, or soda!”

“It’s in the van. And most of it’s covered in blood now.”

“Then this is great,” he says, a little too politely.

“If you’re not used to it, the first glass tastes like acetone,” you tell him, draining yours. “But the second one…” You pause, pouring yourself another. “The second goes down real smooth.”

Adrian copies you and gulps down the red wine. You refill his glass, and he takes another sip.

“The second one isn’t so bad, actually.” He sounds surprised.

You sink down on the couch next to him. “So now what?” you ask. He looks confused, so you elaborate. “What do you usually do with hostages all night?”

“You’re not a hostage!” He looks offended. “I’m more like your bodyguard.”

“Oh yeah? Who are you guarding me from? Your friends?”

He looks up over his glasses in thought. “Well, just Harcourt. And Murn. But it’s mostly to keep you safe from the butterflies.”

You take another drink of wine. Studying his face, you think he’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t consider you to be his hostage. As you look him over, you realise you’ve never noticed how curly his hair is before- he’s normally wearing that dorky little Fennel Fields hat.

You’ve always thought he was cute in a wholesome kind of way but now that he’s out of his work uniform, you can appreciate that he’s, like, ridiculously, conventionally handsome. You wonder if he knows it. You wonder a lot of things about Adrian, especially now that, come to think of it, everything you know about him is probably a lie to keep his secret identity hidden.

“Truth or dare?” you blurt.

“What?”

“Go on.” You gesture towards him with your glass. “We’ve got a long night. I want to find out more about you. Adrian. Vigilante.”

He looks excited. Maybe it’s the prospect of playing a game, or maybe he’s just happy someone wants to know more about him. Both sides of him.

“Truth then.”

“Does your pregnant ex-girlfriend exist?”

He groans and leans his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “No. I was just trying to cover how stoked I was that Peacemaker was out of jail.”

You laugh, but your eyes linger on his exposed neck and the way his Adam’s apple moves when he talks.

He turns his head to look over at you through his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think Taylor likes me.”

“Taylor likes you just fine,” you lie, sipping your wine.

“Truth or dare?” asks Adrian.

“Truth.”

“Has Taylor ever told you that you shouldn’t date me?”

“Ugh, fine. Yes. He told me not to give you my number.”

“Why?!”

“If you want to ask a follow-up question, then you need to take a drink. That’s the rule.” He does so- quickly. “Okay, fine. He says he doesn’t trust you because you’re always lying about things, and it kind of annoys everyone because you’re a bad liar.”

“Everyone?! I thought we were talking about Taylor?”

“If you want to be liked and have a secret identity, you need to be a better liar.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” admits Adrian, twisting the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

He thinks for a couple of beats. “I dare you to finish your drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“It was the only dare I could think of that wasn’t a sexy dare.”

The newly formed idea of Adrian asking you to do something sexy for him makes you pause. Warmth pools deep in your tummy as watches you, waiting. God, why does red wine always make you feel so slutty? You raise your eyebrows over the rim of your glass, and you drain the rest of the liquid. “Why don’t you want to give me a sexy dare?” you ask, setting your glass down.

“I dunno, don’t you think there’s kind of a power imbalance?”

“That’s true. You are my bodyguard after all.” You nod contemplatively. “And I guess it would be awkward since you need to stay here for a few more days.”

“Oh, I meant-” Adrian cuts himself off. What he really meant would sound incredibly childish now.

You get up from the couch to retrieve another bottle of wine from the breakfast bar that separates your kitchen from your living room. “Go on, what did you mean?”

“No, I meant what you said.”

No, he didn’t. What he meant is that you have all the power because he has such a huge crush on you. And the way the wine is going to his head, he’s not sure he trusts himself to give you a dare without it having an ulterior motive. Adrian watches as you twist the corkscrew into the bottle with precision. Your chest jiggles in your tank top with the recoil of your arm extracting the cork, and it makes Adrian blush bright red. He discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans.

You bring the new bottle of wine over to the couch and sit down cross-legged, your back leaning against the armrest so you can get a better look at him without constantly straining. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this, you think, as he gets comfortable, changing position so he can look at you too. In the soft light of your living room, you can make out that his cheeks are pink again. “Does wine usually make you flush like that?” you ask.

“Uh, I wouldn’t know. Can wine do that?”

“To some people, yeah. For me, it just makes me feel kinda sexy.” You clap your hand to your mouth, watching Adrian’s eyes widen. “Ugh! Sorry, I wouldn’t have said that if I hadn’t had two glasses already.” You scoff and shake your head. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

The wine is making you feel bolder. “Have you had sex in your Vigilante costume?”

“Today?”

You almost choke on your newly poured drink with laughter.

“Okay, that answers that question. In which case, I have a follow-up,” You take a sip, pointedly. “What’s Vigilante’s favourite sex position?”

“Oh, uh…” Adrian thinks back to when he last had sex as Vigilante, with Amber and Peacemaker a few days ago. “Any, I guess.”

“Any? C’mon, you picked truth!”

“It is the truth! I don’t take my mask off, or my suit if I don’t have to. So it always feels the same. Fun, I guess, but sorta uncomfortable. Funcomfortable.”

You smile and rest your head on your hand, elbow leaning on the back of the couch. “What about Adrian?”

“Is that another follow-up question?”

You acquiesce and take another drink but before you can even swallow he says “Missionary.”

“Boring,” you tease but he doesn’t seem fazed.

“It’s not. Not when you really like someone anyway. Missionary is fucking great - when you can kiss them, hold their hand, stare into their eyes…” He pauses, his green eyes burning into yours. “Boring is not being able to even taste someone because of my mask.”

You realise you’ve been holding your breath. You look away and exhale slowly, trying to steady the growing arousal burning hot, deep in your pelvic floor.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-” When you raise your head again, he’s still looking at you intently. “I just realised I haven’t been fucked like that in a really long time.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah right! I bet you go on tons of dates.”

“I do,” you admit with a tilt of your head. “But did you know that like 90% of women don’t orgasm on a one-night stand?”

Adrian’s eyebrows knit together “That doesn’t sound right. Women always cum when I-”

“That’s what all men say, Adrian. But honestly, I don’t think a man has made me cum in, like, the entire time I’ve been single.”

“I could,” he says, matter-of-factly. It’s not a boast, it’s a simple statement.

Honestly, you're not sure if it’s the alcohol or the vivid image you have of Adrian making you clutch at your bedsheets and moan his name, but something’s making the blood rush to your face and other parts of your body that you’re still desperately trying not to think about.

“I’ll do it right now if you want?”

He’s asking if he can try to make you cum as casually as if asking if he can help you restock the vending machine. It’s bolder than you’d expected from the shy busboy. Then again, you’d never expected him to be Vigilante either… maybe you should review all the preconceptions you have of him.

Your abdomen clenches. Fuck, you can feel how hot and sticky your underwear is as he blinks at you behind his glasses, waiting for your response.

You look at his face hungrily, eyes lingering on his lips, now stained with red wine. “Adrian, listen. I’m sure you’re very good, blah blah blah. But I just… I don’t want to set you up for disappointment. It’s kind of hard to make me cum.”

“Let me give it a shot. And if I can make you cum, you let me take you on a date.”

You stare at him, feeling your chest pounding as you contemplate his offer. There’s something about his voice that’s so sincere and so fucking desperate for you, your brain can’t think of a reason not to say yes.

“Truth or dare?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Truth.”

“Do you want me to go down on you? I’m really good at it.”

Yes! You want to scream- already stupidly soaking fucking wet at the mere idea of it.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut and nod. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“Yeah?” His tone makes you think that he wasn’t really expecting you to say yes.

“Yes, Adrian.” You laugh in disbelief. “If you make me cum, you can take me on a date.” He grins and you shift inelegantly, not sure how to proceed. “So… how do you wanna-”

Adrian pounces on you before you can ask the question, his red-stained lips crashing against yours. You kiss him back- hard. You’re thirsty for him, you realise, as you taste the alcohol mixed with the slightly metallic taste of his saliva. You want to drain him, drown in him.

He groans when you grab the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. He can’t believe that you’re kissing him like this- like it’s you who’s been pining after him and not the other way around.

You pause, lips barely touching his. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long,” you whisper.

“You- you have?”

“Adrian, I spend half my week trying to find you new kinds of speciality soda just so I have an excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns on him. All this time he just thought you were really, really into soda.

Adrian gives you one last deep kiss and pulls away. He gets on his knees on the floor, and the sight of him there, with his hands on your hips and his body between your legs, makes your cunt clench. You bite your lips in anticipation.

His fingertips hook the hem of your sweatpants. “Can I take these off?” You lift your hips, permitting him to remove them.

“Fuck,” he breathes, staring at your pussy.

“Adrian…” You mumble, suddenly self-conscious. Exposed. You try to bring your knees together, but he places a hand on each of your thighs, holding them firmly open.

“You’re wet already,” he says, in a self-satisfied sort of way that makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “When did that happen? Was it when I said I’d make you cum?”

You shake your head. “When I was wondering what kind of sexy dare you wanted to give me.”

He grins “I wanted to dare you to take your top off.” He traces a finger along your hot, wet folds. You gasp, feeling the calloused texture of his fingertip brushing up and down against your skin.

“Like this?” You lift your tank top up and over your head, tossing it aside and then you squeeze your tits together.

He sits on the floor, lips parted slightly in awe. You feel like he’s looking at you like you’re the most-

“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Now you really are embarrassed but before you can respond, he dips the finger that was sliding along your folds into your pussy. You bite your lip to stifle the vulnerable, blissful sigh that leaves you.

“It’s okay- you can moan for me.” He reassures, pushing a thick finger in and up. You feel your walls squeezing around him in response. “God, you’re so tight around my finger.”

“Fuck-” you plead, as he teases you, gently stroking your g-spot. His lips haven’t even touched you yet and you already feel like you’re having to consciously stop yourself from cumming.

“You needed this, huh?” he asks and you watch as he kisses your inner thigh, sucking the sensitive skin there. You have to look away- just the sight of his jaw muscles moving as he traces his tongue along the crevice where your thigh meets your body almost sends you over the brink.

“Adrian, I’m- fuck-” After all your warnings about how difficult it would be to make you cum, you’re are shamefully close already- and Adrian knows it. Everything below your waist is hot and shaking and swollen as his finger curls up inside you, tapping rhythmically.

“Wait not yet- I’ve got to taste you. I want you to cum on my tongue.”

Warmth envelopes your clit as Adrian opens his mouth and slowly glides his tongue over the bundle of nerves there, tasting you for the first time. He barely moves at all but you’re so close that just the pressure of his mouth on you sends the crashing wave of your orgasm rolling across his hot tongue. Your back arches and your walls clamp down around his finger.

He lets out a groan, sending pleasant vibrations across your clit.

“Shit, Adrian-”

Blinding lights appear somewhere between your eyelids and the centre of the universe. Your thighs tense as the pleasure shoots through your body, your pussy flooding his mouth between your legs.

When you finally stop twitching he removes his tongue from you, giving you a moment’s respite.

“That was, like, really easy,” he smirks as you run your hands through your hair in disbelief. “I didn’t even have to take my glasses off.”

“I’ve never-” You try to catch your breath, blinking at him. You’re not sure you’ve even made yourself cum that quickly before. “That’s never happened -so fast- ever.”

“I shoulda asked what two orgasms would get me.”

“Literally anything. Do whatever you want with me-” you babble, staring up at the ceiling. You pause to look down when you feel him remove his finger from inside you.

And he takes off his glasses, ready to make you a fucking mess.

It’s the singular hottest action you’ve ever seen anyone do in your entire life- Adrian Chase is going to be the end of you.

He hooks his arms behind your knees, lifting your ass off of the couch and pulling you towards him.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he says, mesmerised by the way your chest still heaves in the aftershock of your orgasm. Adrian buries his face between your legs, delving his tongue between your lips and exploring your entrance.

He pulls back for a second “I knew you’d taste so fucking good.”

Fuck.

You watch as he sucks on two of his fingers and sinks them deep inside you, up to his knuckles. When you repeat his name over and over, he answers by flicking his tongue over your clit.

You gasp at the sensation and grab a fistful of his thick, curly hair. His tongue rolls gentle circles around your clit as his fingers work in and out, softly stretching your pussy. Adrian takes his time now and it’s agonising.

For so long he’s been having sex as Vigilante. Adrian’s missed this, the freedom of having his mask off. Of taste. And he can’t believe that it’s you that he’s devouring.

Fuck, and you could lie here like this forever, just enjoying him exploring you, like he wants nothing more than to make you gush all over him and cry his name again. Normally you’d feel under pressure to perform, to give him that second orgasm he’s so determined to draw from you, but the way he’s taking his time, lazily swirling his tongue in circles, and curling his fingers into you makes you dissolve into a puddle.

“Fuuuck,” you whine helplessly, feeling the familiar sensation of you losing yourself, the heat that’s been slowly building deep in your core threatening to boil over. “Can we do this, like, the whole time you’re here protecting me?” Your eyes try to find his but he’s staring at your tits. His other hand is on your hip, fingers not quite stretching up towards you - as if unsure what the boundary is on touching you when it comes to this silly little deal you’ve made.

You pull his hand to your chest, encouraging him to squeeze you. He moans needily between wet, sloppy licks. The sound of him being so turned on just from touching your body, when you haven’t laid a hand on him yet sends ecstasy searing through you.

And it comes, whipping through your core and cracking like thunder. You squeeze your thighs around his head and he lets you set the pace, as you grind yourself wildly onto his tongue, his lips, his chin. Adrian groans in encouragement when you grip the back of his head, his fingers still pressing into your g-spot as you press yourself against his mouth.

You cum hard again, your rocking hips eventually shuddering to a halt as he gives you a few last long, slow licks. The faint prickle of embarrassment you feel from letting yourself come undone like that vanishes when you see Adrian’s face light up, his lips swollen and sticky, totally enamoured by your now slightly dishevelled appearance.

His mouth looks irresistible. You slink down off the couch to join him on the floor so you can kiss him desperately. Fuck, why did you ever listen to Taylor? You needed this. Needed him. You taste the sweet, salty juices on Adrian’s lips and on his tongue.

“I’ll admit-” you breathe, pressing your forehead against his. “- you’re like really, really fucking good at that.”

“Told you.” He leans on the couch and gets to his feet. “So, where’s your bedroom?”

“Uh, down the hall, across from the bathroom. Why?”

“Two orgasms and I can do what I want with you. Deal’s a deal.” Before your brain can catch up, he hoists you to your feet and over his shoulder, making you squeal involuntarily with delight.

Oh my fucking god.

Adrian slaps your ass and carries you through to your bedroom, tossing you onto your bed where you burst into a fit of giggles. He smells warm and clean, like your favourite shower gel he must have used earlier. He crawls on top of you and plants tiny kisses all over your lips, your cheeks, your nose- every inch of your face and neck peppered with his affection.

He pulls off his T-shirt and - Jesus Christ, he has abs. But you also notice his torso is covered in scars and bruises, the evidence of his double life painted across his body. A streak of white scar tissue here, a purple welt there-

“Don’t girls usually ask about all these injuries?” You ask, tracing your hand down his chest.

“I usually keep my suit on.” He shrugs.

And that’s when you realise- he doesn’t just happen to have sex as Vigilante. He only has sex as Vigilante. You feel a pang of understanding, thinking about the way he so wistfully described missionary earlier. You’re the only one who’s seen him like this. Both sides of him.

Adrian undoes his belt buckle and looks down at you lying spread out of the bedsheets in front of him, still flushed and glowing. He knew he’d be able to make you glow like that.

He pauses. “Do, uh, do you have a condom? I wasn’t expecting to…”

You find a condom in your bedside drawer while he undresses and then you help to put it on him as you kiss the small trail of dark hair below his belly button. He’s big- bigger than what you’re used to. You’d really, really like to suck it, you think. But Adrian has other ideas. He guides you back to lie on your pillows and climbs on top of you.

Wanton anticipation bubbles over inside you, you sigh needily as he kisses your neck and brings his calloused hand between your legs again. He slides his fingers into your folds and you hear the wet sounds of him rubbing your slick on his cock. It’s greedy but you’re already impatient for him- you want to cum for him again.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks into your eyes. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Fuck me- please.”

The way you plead makes him twitch- he can’t take it anymore. The erection he’s had since you opened that second bottle of wine is throbbing. Adrian’s hips press into you and you feel his cock pushing through your folds, into your centre. A soft whimper escapes your lips as you feel him filling you up, the walls of your pussy struggling to accommodate him.

Watching your reaction, he double checks “Sure you’re okay?”

You nod. Because it aches - but in the best kind of way.

“Good,” he says. “Because you feel so good. Your pussy feels so fucking good around me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. Fuck, he has such a slutty little waist, you think to yourself as he grinds into you, pushing deeper, the head of his cock pressing into your g-spot. You slip your hand between your bodies to touch yourself and he moans quietly in your ear.

“Oh my god, yeah. Fuck, rub your clit because I’m not gonna last long.”

He clasps your other hand, fingers intertwining with yours- half holding it, half pinning it to the bed. Your body writhes under him, leaning your head back into your pillows and he takes the opportunity to suck at your freshly exposed neck.

“You look so good taking it so deep like this,” he groans, tilting his head down to watch his cock slide in and out of you. “I can’t believe I’m fucking inside you.”

Everything he says makes the hairs on the back of your arms stand up. You feel so, deliciously full- the indecent slapping and squelching noises as he picks up pace and pounds into you only makes you wetter.

Your legs squeeze around his waist as your whole body tightens like a spring coiling, ready to be released. The friction of his body moves yours, driving you into your mattress, and putting even more rhythmic pressure on your fingers against your clit.

“Adrian, I’m- ah, fuck- I’m gonna cum again.”

“Fuck, look at me. I want you to cum when I cum. Let it all out for me.”

You try and keep eye contact with him while bliss rockets through your body as his hips slam into you harder. It spreads from your centre right down your legs, now in a vice-like grip around him. You curse his name incoherently, your pussy tightening and releasing as you cum around his cock.

“That’s it- fuckfuckfuckfuck-” His full weight collapses on you as he empties himself. You feel Adrian’s cock pulsing inside you as he groans your name and comes to a halt.

You both lie there for a few moments, Adrian breathing raggedly into the crook of your neck, his heartbeat and yours pounding against each other. Your euphoria is interrupted only briefly when he pulls out of you and disposes of the condom.

Adrian returns to your bed and pulls you into his chest.

“I am never listening to Taylor ever again,” you say, face pressed against his pectoral muscles.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, unless…” You tilt your head up to look at him. “You still want to take me on a date right?”

“Are you crazy? Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nevermind.” The dating scene in Evergreen has sucked so hard for so long, your first thought was that he might not want to see you again.

He grabs your face with both hands, trying to drum sense into you. “I’ve wanted to ask you out for months. You’re not getting rid of me.”

Adrian plants a kiss on your forehead.

Maybe there is a decent man in this town after all.

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