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kingtomura · 8 months ago

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Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3 | Part 4 is here!

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up.

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears.

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched.

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it.

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating.

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you.

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes.

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud.

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it.

“No thanks.”

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course.

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one.

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage.

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again.

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies.

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun.

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon.

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment.

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun.

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral.

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies.

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot.

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t.

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him.

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen.

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again.

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round.

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions.

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close.

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain.

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune.

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.”

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely.

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both.

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face.

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.”

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.”

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.”

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.”

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.”

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience.

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last.

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not.

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win.

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line.

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again.

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.”

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.”

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that.

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place.

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up.

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment.

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm.

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks.

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation.

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute.

It's settled. You hate this man.

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head,

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now.

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?”

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you.

“I know why.”

You brace yourself for mortification.

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.”

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you.

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes.

God, maybe he’s an idiot.

You want to kiss him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice.

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match.

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up.

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.”

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up.

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first.

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone.

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed.

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out.

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room.

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely.

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips.

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him.

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties.

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there.

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today.

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch.

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out.

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure.

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver.

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt.

“Get this off.”

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do.

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices.

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine.

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made.

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer.

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more.

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours.

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze.

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious.

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other.

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?”

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words.

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?”

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.”

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake.

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties.

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close.

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there.

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild.

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm.

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release.

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side.

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them.

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you.

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation.

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation.

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket.

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..?

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head.

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.”

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out.

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation.

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip.

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves.

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure.

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again.

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax.

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh—

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you.

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.”

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you.

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance.

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt.

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch.

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined.

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.”

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside.

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again.

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.”

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.”

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words.

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder.

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today.

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family.

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet.

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out.

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent.

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle.

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.”

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you.

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you.

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you.

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy.

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child.

Even though you’re an adult.

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life.

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off.

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture.

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way.

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand.

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.”

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex.

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?”

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it.

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall.

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor.

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks.

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning.

It’s been a week.

A long, boring, drawn-out week.

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried.

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long.

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely.

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around.

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone.

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence.

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you.

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together.

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind.

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you.

Tomura.

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization.

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears.

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by.

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you.

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?”

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours.

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut

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doyoulikethissong-poll · 9 months ago

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Nirvana - The Man Who Sold the World 1993

"The Man Who Sold the World" is the title track of David Bowie's third studio album, which was released in 1970 in the US and in 1971 in the UK. Although no singles were issued from the album, the song appeared as the B-side on the 1973 reissue US single release of "Space Oddity" and UK single release of "Life on Mars?".

In his journals, Kurt Cobain of the American grunge band Nirvana ranked the album The Man Who Sold the World at number 45 in his top 50 favourite albums. Nirvana subsequently recorded a live rendition of the song during their MTV Unplugged appearance at Sony Music Studios in New York City on 18 November 1993 and it was included on their MTV Unplugged in New York album released on November 1, 1994, nearly seven months following the death of Cobain. The song was also released as a promotional single for the album in 1995.

Nirvana's cover received considerable airplay on alternative rock radio stations and was also placed into heavy rotation on MTV, peaking at number 3 on MTV's most played videos on 18 February 1995; it also peaked for two weeks at number 7 on Canada's MuchMusic Countdown in March 1995. Nirvana regularly covered the song during live sets after their MTV Unplugged performance up until Cobain's death. In 2002, the song was re-released on Nirvana's self-titled "best of" compilation.

Bowie said of Nirvana's cover: "I was simply blown away when I found that Kurt Cobain liked my work, and have always wanted to talk to him about his reasons for covering 'The Man Who Sold the World'" and that "it was a good straight forward rendition and sounded somehow very honest." Bowie called Nirvana's cover "heartfelt", noting that "until this [cover], it hadn't occurred to me that I was part of America's musical landscape. I always felt my weight in Europe, but not [in the US]." In the wake of its release, Bowie bemoaned the fact that when he performed the number himself, he would encounter "kids that come up afterwards and say, 'It's cool you're doing a Nirvana song.' And I think, 'Fuck you, you little tosser!'"

At a pre–Grammy Awards party on 14 February 2016, Nirvana band members Krist Novoselic, Dave Grohl, and Pat Smear teamed up with Beck to perform "The Man Who Sold the World" in tribute to Bowie – who had died the month before — with Beck performing vocals.

"The Man Who Sold the World" received a total of 77,6% yes votes! Dave Grohl has previously been featured in the polls with Foo Fighter's "The Pretender" at #111 and as a drummer on Queens of the Stone Age's "No One Knows" at #87, and David Bowie has been featured with "I'm Afraid of Americans" at #33.

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#finished #high votes #high yes #high reblog #90s #70s #nirvana #david bowie #dave grohl

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months ago

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Ok ok hear me out I have a different idea now after reading your phone sex blurb

What about after Eddie comes back from his tour they're out with friends and some other girl is chatting him up, trying to rub up on him in front of reader. And she wants to stake her claim but she can't because he's not hers, not technically; and he isn't into the other girl's attention because he just wants reader, but he can't be too earnest about that bc it'll scare her off.

Do I want them to grind on the dancefloor or have sex in the bathroom? Yeah maybe

foreword: more roommate!Eddie x reader filth. secret situationship fucking at a party style. ty anon <3

wc: 1.8k

cw: secret FWB, Reader with breasts + vagina, femme pet names used, fingering (R receiving), the return of Eddie Cums-In-His-Pants Munson, wee bit angsty, lots of hidden longing

____

This party is the most sound your apartment has ever heard- speakers thrumming bass lines through the floorboards, drunken friends’ laughter echoing off walls.

You and Eddie planned ahead, started plotting weeks ago to bribe various neighbors in the building to avoid catching a noise complaint- scratch brownies for the floor below, some pre-rolls handed off across the hall, party invites extended to whoever was in earshot.

Informal karaoke kicked off around midnight, as the room rose in heat from extra bodies and alcoholic flush; Robin and Steve are bringing down the house on the other side of the bathroom door, charming the crowd with a belligerently intoxicated rendition of a Beastie Boys hit.

Eddie’s got you pressed against the sink, your ass to the unforgiving marble of the counter while he teases his teeth over the skin of your neck.

“No marks,” you whisper, fist seizing up at the root of his hair, tugging. He stifles a moan into your skin while you continue to tell him off, voice just under the protective layer of music. “It’s bad enough there’s only one bathroom in this place. Someone’s bound to notice we’re both gone-”

Eddie suddenly drops to his knees, nosing at the strip of skin above your jeans that he lifts your shirt to reveal. Your breath stutters, and he grins before popping the button with his teeth, chocolate eyes eclipsed by the black-lust of his pupils.

“No one’s gonna hear you, ‘cuz you’re not gonna make a sound. Got it?”

The gush of arousal that meets Eddie’s fingers is invitation enough. You rock into his hand, and he angles his fingers up- you take two of them like a dream, as if your cunt had just been waiting to be filled by those long, dexterous digits, cold rings quickly warming to the skin-temperature of your thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie mumbles, never more mouthy than when he’s face to face with his favorite pastime. And then, as if reading your mind- “Been waitin’ for me all night, hm? Poor thing. So wet…”

Outside, the song rises into a fast guitar solo bridge, quickening along with your breaths. Hoping there’s enough sound barrier, you brace yourself with one hand on the counter while the other buries itself into the heat of Eddie’s scalp.

Soft, dark curls slip between your knuckles, your thumb brushing gently under the layer of bangs to touch the bare skin of his forehead. It’s too tender, too endearing for what the moment calls, in direct contrast with the way Eddie’s plunging into you, the insistent, budging slope of his nose near the pounding apex of your thighs.

“Becca’s gonna notice.” Your thumb tracks a path to Eddie’s temple, so now you’re just cradling his head as he fingers you into oblivion. “You know- ah- Becca? The girl from down the hall that you invited, specially?”

If it wasn’t for the public setting, you’d take more time to calculate which buttons of Eddie’s to push; as it stands, you’re sort of flailing around in the dark, hitting random ones and seeing what lights up.

Seems to do the trick, though- in one fluid motion, Eddie shoves your jeans the rest of the way down and takes one of your knees over his shoulders, giving himself enough room between your legs to dip forward and latch onto on your clit.

His plush lips suck, fervently, in time with the rhythm of his curled fingers, managing to hit into that gummy spot that buckles your knees.

“Well Becca- isn’t- here, right now,” Eddie says, around lapping mouthfuls of you, hand on your hip near-bruising with the force it takes to keep you upright. “Besides, she invited herself.”

“I dunno… you seemed pretty excited to see her.” The muscles of your abdomen clench, then release, your head tipping backwards to thunk against the mirror.

There’s an arch in your spine, now, enough space for Eddie’s hand to migrate from your hip to low back, pulling you more insistently onto his tongue and fingers.

In response, the spot behind your navel tightens again, pleasure swelling with the music. It’s irritating that Eddie thinks you’ll drop the subject in favor of an orgasm, so you aim for another button, lashes fluttering at the ceiling, voice stretched thin as your resolve- “She gonna stay the night? Use the same bathroom you’ve finger-banged some other b-”

The wet, hot pressure on your clit disappears, a whine of protest crawling from your throat before Eddie can smother it with his palm. Luckily, the living room speakers are kind of shitty, crackling with feedback as the song reaches fever pitch volume.

Eddie’s fingers still within you, stretching to depths that make your eyes roll back as he rises to cover the length of your body with his own. His hand is big and warm over the lower half of your face, breath an angry huff by your ear as he growls, low- “It’s probably in your best interest to not finish that sentence.”

It’s some consolation that you have the option to bite. Tempting as that is, you let your glare speak for itself, brows knitting together as Eddie draws back to look at you.

There’s a bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw, disappearing into the curls he’s let loose for the night. The eyeliner you’d carefully applied for him pre-party is blurred from the humidity and exertion, a rosy flush in his cheeks to match.

Eddie crowds your vision, close enough for you to note the tiny freckle under his left eye twitch, and for a moment, everything is just him- all you can see, hear, touch, smell, dopamine flooding in a head spin of hormones that respond despite your best efforts to tamp them down.

The background noise fades away, and it’s just you and Eddie, panting and straining against the other. A squelch, as he adds a third finger, your breasts pushing into the solid expanse of his chest as you squirm up, mindlessly seeking release.

“Be good and come ‘fore this song is over,” he’s saying, thick fingers scissoring, your resounding moan stifled by his palm. “Then I’ll kick everyone out and let you come again.”

It’s the promise of another that undoes you, thighs shaking with the growing wave, lashes tickling Eddie’s knuckles as your eyes slam shut.

He keeps all the points of pressure that you need, plus more- hips pinning the frenetic rolls of your torso, tips of his fingers coaxing bright spasms from the channel of your cunt, forehead pressed like an anchor to your own as your body sings.

The whole time, he’s talking you through it, deep timbre just for your ears with rasping praise and encouragement. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. That’s it. Good. Let it all out. S’just me here, yeah? Just you and me. Fuck…”

By the time your hearing returns, Eddie’s dotting soothing kisses up the curve of your neck, apparently trusting you enough to let his hand drop from your mouth. You take a few deep, shuddering breaths, hand still buried in Eddie’s hair like a lifeline.

He doesn’t seem to mind, taking his sweet time pulling out of you, disentangling himself with lingering touches to any remaining bare skin.

While he tugs your shirt back into place, you turn to face the mirror, smoothing over flyaways and making sure you look somewhat presentable. You let Eddie’s hands roam as your heart rate stutters, working itself back down to normal while he refixes the button of your jeans.

His chin settles on your shoulder, arms twining around your middle; you let him take some of your weight, relaxing into his hold, eyes catching his in the mirror as you ask, quietly, “You want me to wingman for you? She seems nice. And it’s never a bad idea to sleep with someone who lives in your building.”

Eddie snorts, your dry attempt at a joke working wonders, grin on its way to devastating greeting your reflection. “You seriously think I’m the one who needs help? After the time I just showed ya?”

“Well based on my limited data-” your hips grind backwards without warning, and Eddie stiffens, smile slipping from his face as your own wicked grin takes over- “-I’d say you’re the one who came in his pants just from touching me.”

You wriggle in his arms to turn around, noses bumping, lips hovering in a not-quite-kiss as you whisper, “Say please and I’ll run and get you some new pants. Hand-delivered.”

Even with the wall of party noise, there’s a distinctive click as Eddie’s jaw ticks. He acquiesces, though, stopping somewhere just shy of grateful to grit out, “Please.”

You hum, pleased and thoughtful, leaning out of his space to lift a brow- “I think Becca’s into blue-collared boys.”

This fact, you’re basing off the one time you saw a UPS guy at your neighbor’s door. Sounds a lot better if you act like you know what you’re talking about, though, as if the list of things you know about Becca is longer than black hair and occasionally receives packages.

Distance, safety, one and the same, even though what your body begs for is to get closer, to soak all your senses in Eddie again. You wind a particularly pretty curl of his around your index finger. “Those khakis you wore once to Robin’s grad party and then never again- bottom drawer?”

When Eddie nods, he fixes you with a glare, nostrils flaring like he’s about to tell you off.

Before he can, though, you’ve wriggled from his grasp, reaching for the door handle with strict, hissy instructions about locking it after you’re gone and only opening for your special knock.

He obeys, deadbolt sliding into place, door swallowing the noise of the party in your absence.

It’s just Eddie now, leaning into hands over the sink, breathing hard like he hasn’t already blown a load three minutes ago.

The entire length of his middle fingers shimmer in the light, still coated with your arousal.

Eddie’s mouth waters. He thinks about you; how for a second, you were the only thing on his mind, how rare that is, for him to be so singularly focused.

Then he thinks about Becca. And stupid tight fucking dress pants.

The sink water gushes to a start as he jerks the handle on, sudsy hand soap scrubbing away at the smell of you, carrying it down the drain.

By the time you’re back, dreaded pants in hand, Eddie’s fixed an easy smile on his face, bickering at the ready. Almost normal, and certainly familiar.

It’s just simpler to keep some distance. Close quarters aside.

#lu’s anons #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #roommate!eddie #roommate!eddie x reader #mdni #eddie munson x you

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purplecoffee13 · 5 months ago

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Nemesis with Benefits* - Part 3

Summary: “You go to your friend’s birthday party, and run into Harry. Naturally, the encounter doesn’t go very smoothly, and you are at each other’s throats in a matter of minutes. But the proximity transforms the anger into… some type of frustration.”

Wc: 4.7k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, smut, dirty talk, (heavy on the)degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m back with another NWB chapter! This took embarrassingly long to write. To be honest, I was in a bit of a rut, and then I was having too many ideas and thoughts at once, and not enough inner peace to sit down and write. But it’s all good now, I’m back, so enjoy!!!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

"Isn't it too much?" You ask hesitantly, staring at your dolled up reflection in the mirror of your vanity desk. Rebecca's head shoots your way, a deep frown on her face.

"Hell no! You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetie." She hurries over to you, putting her hands on your shoulder and crouching down to your level. She looks at you through the mirror, giving you a comforting smile, which eases your nerves a little bit.

"Listen, babe, this is your first real party since that troll cheated on you. It's your chance to show everyone that you are strong, and better than ever." Rebecca gives the pep-talk that you have been hearing seven renditions of for the past week. She turns you around so she can look you in the eyes. "Dylan was a deadweight. You are free of that imbecile and we're going to celebrate it by getting you laid."

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh at Rebecca's mention of her mission for you. "I don't want to get laid."

"Girl... trust me, you need to get laid." Rebecca says as she picks up her purse from your bed. Your mouth falls open at the insult.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" A chuckle escapes your lips as you ask your friend the question. She turns around, a mischievous grin covering her face.

"You have been so incredibly tense the last weeks, especially today. Seriously, did you have a deadline today or something? You have been incredibly tense all afternoon." Rebecca questions, grabbing both of your jackets and handing yours to you.

Your eyes widen for a slight second, but you quickly regain yourself. You shrug your shoulders, which, now that she mentioned it, are feeling quite tense. You hadn't realized how much effect your stress had on your body today.

Ever since that almost... whatever it was with Harry earlier today, you have absolutely been on edge. It's been difficult to brush it off, especially because the harder you try to not think of it, the longer it stays on your mind. Even blasting rock music didn't get your thoughts off him.

There are just a lot of questions that accompany the events that almost occurred earlier today. Besides the typical, 'why did he even initiate such a movement?', there is also the question of 'why did you almost go along with it?'.

Maybe Rebecca is right. Maybe, you do need to get laid. You are not going to say that out loud to your friend, though, because you know you will never hear the end of it. So instead, you lie.

"Yeah, had a deadline today. But I promise, I'm ready to party." You say. Technically, it a half-lie. You did have a deadline for an assignment today, but it was only a matter of getting your reference list right.

"Alright, let's go then!" Rebecca exclaims enthusiastically, walking out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment.

The frat house where Tyler's party is held is quite close to your apartment. You live extremely close to campus, and so you and Rebecca don't have to suffer through the cold breeze that dominates the night. You are glad, because your short, red dress and sheer tights aren't the warmest thing you've ever worn. You thank your lucky stars for the black knee high boots you paired the outfit with, as they manage to block the wind against your legs a little bit.

The change of temperature going from outside to inside the frat house is lethal. It smells of the standard odors that cover a party: sweat and alcohol.

You don't hear much of what Rebecca shouts at you over the loud music, but her pointing at Tyler tells you all you need to know. She grabs your hand and guides the both of you to your mutual friend.

Tyler grins like an idiot at the sight of you two, spreading his arms out before pulling the two of you into a bear hug.

"I'm so glad you guys came!" He exclaims, letting you pull away.

"We even got you a present." Rebecca says, and Tyler quirks up his brow.

"We think you're going to love it." You add.

Tyler's head flicks from Rebecca to you, and a sneaky smirk creeps up his face. In perfect timing, both you and Rebecca slap Tyler's arm before throwing some profanities his way.

"What?! You said it so suggestively." Tyler laughs, and you flick him on his forehead. He yelps out, and Rebecca and you chuckle at his dramatics.

"You are an idiot." Rebecca smiles sweetly at him, planting a kiss on his cheek anyway. She steps back and grabs your hand, nodding towards the kitchen. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Oh wait, come with me. I locked the good stuff upstairs." Tyler interrupts, and motions for you to walk with him. You look at Rebecca, and shrug before happily following him upstairs to his room.

You have been in Tyler's room plenty of times, one of which you almost ended up having sex with him. It was late and you were both high as fuck, and ended up falling asleep before anything really happened. You laughed about it afterwards, and besides flirty jokes, there is absolutely nothing between you and Tyler.

"Here we are..." Tyler turns around with three bottles of hard liquor in his hands. You and Rebecca cheer as Tyler pours some tequila into each red solo cup. The three of you make a toast to Tyler before downing the ridiculously large shot. You pull a sour face afterwards because you always seem to forget how nasty tequila is. It does the job of getting you drunk, though, so you don't dwell on it too long.

Tyler then makes you and Rebecca a rum and coke. You chat a bit about everything and nothing, but then Rebecca announces she has to pee, and leaves the room. You quite literally feel the air in the room changing as soon as the door is closed again. Tyler looks at you with sad eyes.

"So, how are you holding up?" He tries to be casual, but you roll your eyes because you know what he is aiming at.

"Stop it, I'm fine. He is a dick, and I am just fine." You say, sitting your self onto the bed. Tyler seats himself besides you.

"You can't blame me for asking, I feel like we haven't talked much since... you know. Just wanted to know if you're okay." He shrugs, and your heart melts ever so slightly. Tyler is a great friend, and he was right: you really hadn't spoke to anyone but Benjamin and Rebecca since the break-up.

And Harry.

"I promise, I'm fine." You say, but Tyler just squints at you. It makes you giggle a bit, getting nervous about idiocy. A short silence falls between the two of you, and you take a sip of your rum and coke.

"Rebecca said I should get laid." You confess, before taking a large gulp of your drink. You look at your friend, expectantly, wondering what his opinion on all this is.

"I mean, my door is always open—"

"Shut up!" You cackle, and Tyler laughs. He loves getting on your nerves. "But seriously, do you think that's a good idea?"

He shrugs. "If you're ready, then sure."

"Well, how do I know if I'm ready?" You ask him, your head tilted ever so slightly.

"You'll know." Tyler answer cryptically, getting up from the bed. You follow suit, knitting your brows at his vague words.

"That might just be the least helpful advice I've ever heard." You deadpan, and Tyler rolls his eyes at you.

"You're thinking about this too much. Just try and see if there is someone you feel attracted to, and just try it. If it's a simple hook-up, it's all about the physical attraction, nothing more. So don't overthink it."

You sigh, kind of bummed with the fact that his advice is actually really good and makes a lot of sense, because now you'll have to apply it.

"Now, let's go downstairs, because Rebecca is probably looking for us." Tyler suggests, and you nod. The two of you fill up your drinks before walking out of Tyler's bedroom. You're still laughing at a joke of his when you are met with none other than Harry standing in the hallway.

He looks surprised to see you, and the same can definitely be said for you. There is about a two second delay in his mood change from surprised to irritated, and the tension in your stomach stings.

"Hey bro." Tyler says, a bit unsure at how enthusiastic he can be towards Harry in front of you. You know they're actually good mates, but I think that lessened a bit since the break-up. Tyler is awfully loyal to you, in the littlest ways.

"Hey man, happy birthday." Harry greets Tyler and they do their little bro hug. You watch the interaction, a bit unsure of how to act in front of Harry now. Pulling out from the embrace, Harry turns to you. He greets you with the sole mutter of your last name.

"Styles." You say back.

You feel Tyler looking between the two of you, and you can tell that he is scared that you'll push Harry down the stairs at any given moment. You refuse to lose eye contact with Harry, however, and he seems to have the same idea. It takes about ten seconds of silently staring into each others' souls before Tyler speaks up.

"Y/N, shall we go downstairs? Find Rebecca?" He puts his hand on the small of your back. You silently cheer for yourself when Harry breaks the eye contact, his gaze shooting down to Tyler's arm, before looking at you again.

"Excellent idea." You agree, turning around and walking down the stairs without looking back at Harry. Your stomach is still upset and your mind is spinning; that was oddly stressful for no reason.

Once you've found Rebecca again, you both take to the dance floor. A typical party song plays and everyone starts to cheer and jump along. You and Rebecca dance with each other, laughing because of the alcohol and the guys who are dancing around you.

You try to scan the room for potential bachelors as much as possible, hoping there is someone who you find attractive. Unfortunately, you are a bit out of luck. You casually look further, but then your eyes fall onto Harry. He is standing against the wall, with a couple of other guys you know, but he is looking at you. You feel like you got caught, even though, technically you caught him looking at you. You don't have much to overthink it, however, because you quickly realize that Benjamin is one of the guys standing with Harry.

You pull Rebecca along and walk towards the guys. Benjamin shrieks when he sees you and pulls you into a hug that nearly chokes the life out of you. After pulling away, he goes and greets Rebecca. Your eyes float past Harry, who is so close to you that you can smell his perfume, but you quickly look away when you realize that, once again, his eyes were already on you.

Your chest feels tight at the knowledge that he is actively watching you, and you have to stop yourself from clenching your jaw out of the sheer stress it is giving you. Benjamin distracts you by asking if you want to go outside for a bit, and you nod, following him to the back yard.

But when you see Harry joins you, you make up an excuse that you have to go to the bathroom, and that they should just go ahead and you'll find them in a bit. The group agrees and begins walking outside, and you take it as your cue to hurry upstairs.

You enter Tyler's room, running over to his desk, where the liquor is still standing, and pour yourself another rum and coke. It is mostly rum with a splash of coke, but you really need it right now. You take a big gulp, sticking your tongue out as the bitter taste trickles down your throat.

"Hiding?"

You jump at the sudden voice sounding from behind you, and turn around to see Harry leaning against the doorframe. You take a deep breath when you realize it's just home, but then the tension settles in because it's him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, irritated. It is mostly to mask the nerves he gives you, and Harry doesn't seem to buy into your pretending. He shrugs.

"Was trying to find a lighter. Tyler said he had one up here." He answers, looking around the room. His eyebrows raise when he sees one on Tyler's nightstand. He leans forward, holding it up in the air so you can see it, then puts it in his pocket. "What about you?"

Getting away from you, you think.

Instead of saying that, you shrug your shoulders. "Just— getting a drink."

Harry nods slowly, not entirely believing you. You stare at each other for a moment, and the heavy feeling in your stomach is beginning to shout to get out. You swallow, your risen heartbeat telling you what you are trying very, very hard to ignore.

"So..." Harry starts.

"So..."

"You and Tyler, huh?"

Your eyes widen at the words that leave Harry's mouth, and before you know it, a loud snort escapes you. You slap your hand over your mouth, shaking your head profusely.

"C'mon, you don't have to deny it. So, the moving on going easier than you thought after all, hmm?"

There is a slight condescending tone that hides between Harry's words, and it makes your smile fade away. You set down your cup at the table and stride towards him until you are right in front of him. You look up and meet his gaze.

"What? Are you trying to say that it's easier, because I wasn't that in love with Dylan, so in the end it wasn't all bad? That the drama was for nothing?" You growl, blood rising to your cheeks as you speak.

"I didn't even fucking say that—"

"No, but you thought it. If you're being a dick, just be upfront about it. Don't act all sneaky about it." You say, and Harry clenches his jaw at your remark.

"Okay, you need to get off that fucking high horse of yours. Not every fucking thing I say is a hidden insult to you, because the world doesn't fucking revolve around you." He barks at you, getting closer. His height is intimidating, but you keep standing your ground and look up at him.

"Can't blame me for thinking it. It’s not like you’ve got anything else going on your life." Your tipsy mind decides to go in for the kill and just start shooting straight insults at him. Harry laughs coldly.

"Yeah? You think that all I do is think about you?" He takes another step closer, your bodies now partly touching. You don't move an inch, mainly because you don't want to let him win, but also because you just don't want to. "You think I wake up and go to bed wondering where you are, what you're doing, who you're with?"

You don't say anything. Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you clench your fists together. There is too much frustration in your body and too few ways to express it. Tyler's words hang in the back of your head, and they are getting harder and harder to push away. Harry leans forward, so he is on eye to eye level with you. His pupils are dilated and he looks just as irritated as you, if not more.

"Listen, darling. I meant what I said. You don't mean shit to me." Harry says slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You are not sure what brain cell lead you to make the decision, but in a matter of seconds, your lips are on his. There seems to be no surprise on Harry's side, because he leans into it immediately.

His tongue slips into your mouth without hesitation, and with a hand on your throat, he pushes you against the wall. All thoughts leave your mind as you kiss Harry, and 'not overthinking it' suddenly seems like the easiest thing in the world.

A sound leaves your mouth when Harry's grip on your throat tightens, and you find yourself arching into him. One of your hands is holding onto his shirt, and the other one to his hair, as you kiss the guy you hate most in the bedroom of your friend.

You feel the adamant bulge in Harry's jeans as the two of you grind against each other, in a desperate, pathetic need for relief. There should be at least a thousand different alarm bells going off in your brain, but there aren't. Not ones that give you enough strength to step out of this situation, anyway.

Your hand finds itself around Harry's throat as well, slightly catching him off guard. You take it as the perfect moment to push him onto Tyler's bed. By the time he's fallen back, you're already climbing on top of him, your hips moving against his crotch as your tongue re-enters his mouth.

It doesn't last long, though, because Harry has flipped the two of you around in no time. His hand back on your throat, and the other one's restraining both your arms above your head.

"Aw, you thought you were taking the reins? That's cute." Harry smiles patronizingly, tilting his head a bit as he scans your face. You clench your jaw, beyond irritated by the fact that he thinks he can just restrain you like this.

"Actually—"

"I don't think I told you that you could speak, now did I?" He interrupts you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

"I fucking hate you." You spit out the words, truly disgusted with yourself for being so incredibly turned on right now. You'd remind yourself to see a psychologist or something, this was not okay. Harry let out a bitter laugh at your remark, the hand on his throat squeezing tighter as he leaned forward. It made your head spin and your panties soaking wet.

"You think I don't loathe you? Because I do. But for some reason, I can't get the image of my cock ruining your pussy out of my head." He growls, equally bothered by the tension as you had been since earlier today. "So I suggest, I fuck you right here, right now. Get it out of my system."

Those words shouldn't have made you crave for him the way you are at this very moment, but for some twisted reason it does, so you nod.

"Words, honey."

"You can fuck me," You say, looking him in the eyes. "but I still hate your guts."

"Right back at ya, sweetheart. Now, take off your panties, gotta be quick."

With that said, Harry's hand leaves your throat, and he got up from the bed. You do as he said as he closes and locks the bedroom door. You are bare and ready for him by the time he turns around, and the smirk on his face makes you realize how much he is relishing in the idea of it.

"No foreplay, let's get this over with." You say, glaring at his smug face. Harry looks down at your sopping wet cunt, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"Not that you'd need it. Sole sight of me got you so soaked, huh?" He taunts, crawling up on the bed and climbing over you. He leans back a bit, grinning as you unbuckle his pants and mutter profanities aimed at him under your breath.

When you pull down his briefs, you have to actively stop yourself from widening your eyes. That is going to hurt. It is a prospect you are looking forward to a little too much.

You lean back, watching Harry stroke himself as he observes your wet hole. As if reading his mind, you tell him: "I'm clean, and on birth control."

"Y'telling me you want it bare?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders. Harry shakes his head, chuckling at your nonchalance. Then, without a word of warning, he pushes himself into you.

"Dirty fucking girl... just wants to feel it all." He says, pulling about almost all the way before thrusting into you again. You shriek from the heavy mix of pain and pleasure it causes you, so much so that Harry has to cover your mouth with his hand.

"You need to keep quiet if you wanna come." He growls, trying to sound irritated, but you can tell he is enjoying himself too much to really feign annoyance. You watch as he finds a rhythm that drives the both of you crazy, closing his eyes as he takes in the great feeling of it all. Your hands find your clit and automatically begin to rub in circles as you listen to the small sounds of pleasure that leave Harry's mouth while he drives himself into you over and over again.

Opening his eyes, he arrogantly smirks at the sight of you getting worked up because of him. He leans forward, his free hand finding your breasts and groping them harshly. A stifled moan leaves your mouth at the feel of his sensitive yet hard touch.

"Look at you, hmm?" He taunts. "One minute you tell me you hate me, and the next you're begging me to fill you up with my bare cock."

Since you can't respond to his teasing, you decide to do the next best thing, bite on his fingers. Harry's hand shoots away from you, looking shocked for the entirety of one second before he's back on track. Then, he laughs.

"Oh, you are a fucking brat..." His hoarse voice mumbles, pulling his cock out of you.

In a flash of a moment, you are turned around onto your belly. Harry scoots your hips up, lining himself up with you again. You use your arms to try and get on all fours, steadying yourself, but you fall face first back onto the mattress as Harry grabs your arms and puts them behind your back. He holds them restrained, his other hand on your hip as he pushes himself back into you.

A muffled moan leaves your mouth as Harry practically screws you into the mattress. His pace is immediately fast, leaving no time for you to take a breath or even think about what he is doing. Your mind gets a bit fuzzy, and you aren't sure whether it is the sex or the alcohol, but either way you are in a different universe right now.

"Biting my finger, thinking you can catch me off guard with the pain. Well, guess what, I like the pain." He says, and you yell when his hand forcefully connects with your ass cheek. You still feel the sting of it when he slaps on your other cheek too, you whimper at the pain, ashamed to admit how much closer it has brought you to your orgasm already. "And so do you, apparently."

"Fuck— I'm..." you try to tell him, but it is hard with your face duh into the sheets and your brain all fucked out from his dick hammering into you.

"I know, I can feel you clenching around me." Harry assures you, then fucks into you harder. The sound of skin slapping against each other takes over the room, accompanied by your increasingly loud moans.

"You are so fucking predictable, falling apart around my cock. Knew you wanted it." Harry holds your hips steady with his hands, and your arch your back for him to hit a special spot.

"Just— this. once." You clarify, hoping Harry has caught your words.

"Hmm, we'll see about that. But fine, just this once, come for me then. Put me away wet." You can hear the grin in his voice, and it is precisely what makes you fall apart around him. With a string of curses and repeats of his name, the euphoric release washes over you.

Harry's grip on your wrists tightens, his fingernails digging into your skin. Slowly but surely, his thrusts become sloppier, and soon enough you hear a groan. His hips still as he comes inside you, filling you up with his seed.

You clench around his cock a few times more as he comes, the idea of his sperm inside you making you hornier than it should. It doesn't go unnoticed by Harry, as he curses under his breath at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock.

After managing to catch your breath, Harry carefully pulls himself out of you. A whimper escapes you, not satisfied with the fact that you now feel empty.

"Don't pout, I filled you up just nice." He says as he turns you around so you are laying on your back. Your eyes meet his, and the reality of what you have done begins to sink in.

Oh my god, you just had sex with Harry.

Your hands fly over your face, shaking your head as you let out a shameful groan. You move your hands down a bit, so it covers everything but your forehead and eyes, and you observe Harry leaning down to grab your panties. You reach your hand out to take them from Harry, but he looks you dead in the eyes and stuffs them into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" You ask in a warning tone. He shrugs, waltzing towards the bedroom door and unlocking it. "Give me back my panties!"

"No, that's okay." Harry denies your request in the most casual way, turning around to look at you. "I'll hold onto them, for safekeeping."

"Harry!" You exclaim in frustration as he walks out the door. You quickly get off the bed, and follow him. He turns around, hand still in his pocket.

"Yeah, that definitely sounded less annoying when you were coming around my—" You intercept his stupid ass before he has the chance to finish his sentence, slapping your hand over his mouth. The sudden proximity makes your stomach tense up, but you keep a stoic face.

"I fucking despise you." You say lowly, glaring him down. You feel him grinning against your hand, but you ignore it as you let him go and walk towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. When Harry calls out your name, your body automatically stills. When you turn to look at him, that exact devilish grin coats his face just right.

"What?" You ask, a slight furrow between your brows as you stare at him.

"You smudged your mascara a bit." He gestures towards his face, referencing to your own under eyes. You say nothing, merely flipping him off as you enter the bathroom. Upon taking a look in the mirror, your eyes widen.

Your mascara is indeed smudged, and not a little bit. There are lines of multiple mascara filled tears that streamed down the side of your face. The weird thing is, you don't even remember tearing up. But it is there, right in front of you, the proof of what you did. The mascara around your eyes, his cum dripping from your cunt.

You sit down on the toilet, taking a deep sigh. You cover your face with your hands once again, this time letting out a frustrated shriek. And you realize that—out of all of this—the worst thing is maybe not the fact that you had sex with Harry and that the proof of it is on and in your body. No, the icing on the cake is that Harry himself has the other proof in his fucking pocket right now.

Shit.

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