#one quirk about me: I can sleep just about anywhere and I can almost always drop off to sleep very easily

[aquitainequeen]

Discussing with the mother my plan to sleep on my living room floor if it gets too warm over the next few nights:

'You should probably take the cushions off the sofa to sleep on. Your living room floor is very hard.'

'This is true.'

'Although, really, you could sleep on a pin if you needed to.'

'This is also true.'

#my life #one quirk about me: I can sleep just about anywhere and I can almost always drop off to sleep very easily #even when it's warm #the mother often has trouble sleeping #especially in heat #few nights ago she took her yoga mat and sheets downstairs and slept in the hall of her house

[theostrophywife]

Hii! Az fluff request here.

I was thinking of the inner circle being out having dinner somewhere and the reader is exhausted. Az notices it and moves his arm for her to lean on him and she falls asleep there, head in az’s arm. Az being all cute w her in front of the inner circle. Or something like that!

Love your writing!!

wake me up.

author’s note: wake up babes it’s time to yearn. this drabble is brought to you by this song.

the shadowsinger could tell that you’d had a long day, but he didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you almost placed the chocolate cake in the sink instead of the dirty dishes. azriel took the dessert tray from your hands and handed you the dishes instead in one smooth move.

you blinked in surprise. “oh, thanks az. soggy cake would’ve made a horrible dessert.”

azriel frowned in concern. “you look exhausted. when’s the last time you slept?”

you wiped your soapy hands on the front of your apron. “always great to hear that i look haggard and tired.”

az’s eyes widened. “i didn’t mean— you always look great — i just…”

the soft little chuckle that fell from your lips instantly relaxed the shadowsinger. “i’m just messing with you, az.” you smoothed down the worried frown lines on his forehead. “don’t worry about little old me. it’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

“if you want to head upstairs and rest, i can finish cleaning up here. the others won’t mind.”

you stubbornly shook your head. “are you kidding? i’m not missing game night. the last time we played poker cas got so mad he flipped a table and got put in time out. it’s worth losing sleep over.” sidestepping the shadowsinger, you finished washing the rest of the dishes. you could’ve easily used your powers, but cleaning always made you feel accomplished. besides, it gave you an excuse to be alone with azriel for a little while longer.

“are you sure? i just don’t want you missing any sleep.”

as you racked the plates, you couldn’t help but smile. this was so typically azriel. always looking out for his friends. “you’re sweet to worry, but really, i’m fine az. now let’s go kick some ass at poker.”

halfway through the game, the shadowsinger was convinced that he should’ve insisted on marching you straight to bed. you were barely keeping your eyes open, yawning every now and then while stubbornly stating that you weren’t even a tiny bit tired.

as expected, the poker game had turned heated fairly quickly. cas and rhys were arguing about some trivial rule, while their mates sighed exasperatedly. mor and amren had completely abandoned their cards all together, choosing to drink their weight in wine instead. despite his brothers argument, the only one close to winning was lucien who winked at elain from across the table. his mate blushed and smiled back before turning her attention to azriel.

she nodded in your direction, slumped form currently growing sleepier by the second. elain patted her shoulder, signaling to the shadowsinger. azriel got the hint and scooted closer to you.

“looks like this game isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” the shadowsinger set his cards down and moved his arm over the back of the sofa. “you might wanna settle in, this might take a while.”

you watched through bleary eyes as cassian angrily waved his deck in rhysand’s face. the high lord looked affronted, which made you snort in amusement. those two were worse than children.

you yawned once again. “okay, but only for a little bit.” azriel nodded as you curled against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“finally,” lucien mouthed.

azriel glared at him, which only caused the redhead to smirk. elain elbowed him, but there was a quirk to her mouth that told azriel that she obviously agreed. luckily, you were too sleepy to notice the exchange with the meddlesome couple.

“promise you’ll wake me up, az?” you asked as azriel stroked your hair.

“i promise.”

he’d wake you up eventually. he just didn’t specify when.

within minutes, you were fast asleep on his shoulder. azriel pulled the blanket over you, making sure that you were comfortable and undisturbed. the shadowsinger rubbed circles against your back, lulling you into deeper sleep. you looked so peaceful in his arms. he was so engrossed in you that he didn’t even notice that the whole room had gone quiet.

“well, aren’t you two adorable?” rhys said with a smirk. at some point, him and cassian had stopped arguing and focused their attention on the shadowsinger instead.

“you never hold me like that nes.” cassian teased with a pout.

“that’s because you snore loud enough to wake up the whole damn house,” scoffed nesta. “plus, you drool in your sleep.”

cassian gasped in feigned outrage. the shadowsinger shushed him. “not so loud, cas. you’ll wake y/n up.”

“rhys is right, you know.” feyre whispered. “you two are so cute together.”

“it’s about time you do something about it, shadowsinger.” amren said pointedly.

“it’s obvious that you two have chemistry together,” mor added. “you should ask her out on a date. not your little “just friends” picnics. i mean a real date, like dinner and a nice restaurant and candles and everything. oh my gods, i’ll have to help her pick out a dress!”

“that’s a great idea, mor.” feyre agreed excitedly. “we can all go shopping together.”

elain clapped. “i can put together a bouquet for you! y/n adores roses. especially the ones from my garden.”

“name the place and i’ll handle the reservations, brother.” rhysand offered.

“you’ll have to take her to that new gelato place, too.” lucien suggested. “she’s been raving about it for days.”

azriel rubbed his temples as his friends planned out this hypothetical date that he apparently got no say in. the shadowsinger knew they meant well, but if he was going to take you out, he’d do it on his own terms. plus, it’s not like he’d been thinking about your first date for months now. agonizing, was more like it. everything was planned right down to the last detail.

he just had to suck it up and actually ask.

“thank you for the unsolicited advice,” azriel said dryly. “but i think i’ve got it.”

the shadowsinger lifted you up with ease and walked out of the living room, leaving the rest of his friends to their own devices. he quietly made his way up the stairs, taking great care not to wake you. azriel paused on the top step as you stirred in his arms.

“az?” you murmured softly. it was so quiet he thought he’d imagined it.

“yeah?”

you cuddled against his chest, curling your arms around his neck. “promise you’ll ask when i wake up?”

azriel’s heart stopped for a second. then, sunlight filled his veins as you smiled sleepily up at him. he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“i promise, y/n.”

#excuse me but what the fuck #i need to scream for a sec #azriel #azriel fic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger

[ethanmorales]

Misconceptions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4 - Air

Pairing: Ethan Morales x fem reader 4.1k words Requested Tags: @arij3lly@hitoshislut@bjrmaybank@ghostfaceorgirlfriend @in-silverlake @misacc08 Warnings: swearing, smut

It's the beginning of a brand-new school year at Sherman Oaks high. The last year for some of us; me included. But the start of my senior year, ironically, is not the reason my legs are wobbly. Nope, that was all because of Ethan, who had knocked on my window for a late-night visit about 6 hours ago. There were a few things he wanted to try so… let’s just say, it was a good thing my mom had the night shift at the hospital.

It’s only been a week since our first time. Only a week since he admitted having feelings for me. Unfortunately, we didn’t discuss the matter further. My mom had gotten home after his confession, and he practically had to take his clothes and run out the back door before we got caught. We’ve met almost every day since, but we haven’t talked about us. We kiss a lot and of course we have sex, sometimes we even cuddle, and we talk about our days, but we never talk about what we are to each other and at this point, I’m afraid to ask.

I loved every second of the time we’ve spent together. But now that school has started again, I’m afraid. Afraid that things will go back to how they used to be. Afraid that a new girl will catch his attention. I know it makes no sense, after he confessed to having feelings for me, but the heart is a treacherous thing. You can never trust it. I most certainly don’t trust mine. It always makes me feel crazy most times. Or maybe it’s my mind that’s the problem.

It doesn’t help that it’s almost time for first period and I’ve not heard from Ethan yet. He usually texts me as soon as he wakes up. Today? Nada. I even texted him first, but he left me on read.  So, I’m spiraling, just a little bit. I think I’m entitled to in this situation.

I glance around the hallway one more time as the bell rings. I don’t see him anywhere. At that moment, Devi links her arm around mine. “That was the bell ringing just now,” she said, pointing a finger in the air.

I ignored the sarcasm but let her steer me away to our first class.

“I was expecting some witty remark,” she said, when I didn’t reply.

I force myself to smile, “Sorry, head in the clouds today.”

“It’s okay, girl. The first day of school sucks. My sleeping schedule is so messed up from a summer full of all-nighters.”

I quirk an eyebrow at this, “Do these all-nighters have a name?”

Devi shakes her head furiously, “Nope. No name at all.” I pretended to believe her as our teacher walked in the door, closing it behind him. I look back to Ethan’s desk but it’s empty. I hide my phone under the desk and shoot him a quick text.

Skipping on the first day? That’s bad, even for you.

Devi smacks the top of my desk, eyes wide. I glance to the front of the classroom and see the teacher is staring right at me. “Sorry, Mr. Shapiro.”

He sighs, “You guys are lucky I am the coolest teacher ever,” he continues before anyone can respond. “Raise of hands if you completed your summer reading,” pauses, “Yes, the audio book counts. No, the movie does not.”

The rest of the class was a blur. A glance at my phone confirmed that Ethan hadn’t responded. The anxiety in my chest continued to grow as time continued to pass. At lunchtime I still hadn’t heard from him. At this point, I was angry.

Fuming, I stomped all the way to my locker, putting away my books and backpack for the hour. As I’m closing the door, Dominic Stryker leans against the locker next to mine. Dominic was an exchange student that started late last semester. Everyone was surprisingly welcoming to him, but that might have something to do with the fact that he’s hot. Mind you, I only have eyes for Ethan but if I didn’t, the windswept blond hair and bright blue eyes would do it for me.

But Ethan was very much the only person that I wanted, so Dominic’s presence only served to irritate me more.

“Yes?” I asked when he just stared at me, sweeping his hair back with his hand.

Unfazed by my tone, he smiles warmly at me, “Say, have you seen Ethan anywhere? He hasn’t been in any of our classes.”

I frown at this, “Of all the people you could ask, why would I know where he is?”

Dominic shrugs, “I just got a vibe last time, like you were into him or something.”

I huffed. “I am definitely not into him.” I say it louder than I intend to, and some people slow down to look at us. He waves at them, and they quickly carry on with their business.

“My bad,” he says, looking back at me, smiling wider, “Just a misunderstanding.”

I sigh, once I realize that I’m being snappy and rude. “I’m sorry. It’s not been a great morning, I’m a little on edge. There’s no excuse for taking it out on you.”

Dominic slides over the lockers a bit, cutting some of the distance between us; then lowers his voice.

“I forgive you,” he says, “but I might have to seek compensation for the emotional damage.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile does tug at my lips. “Whatever. I’ll buy you a soda. Is that compensation enough?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “How about a meal? After school?”

I suddenly realized that he was asking about Ethan to make sure he could make his move. And I basically gave him the opening. Horrified, I struggle to respond.

“I- uh

“She’s busy after school.” The voice was very close behind me. I turned around so quickly that I bumped into his chest.

“Ethan.” Even at my addressing him, he didn’t look at me. His eyes were fixed on Dominic. For the moment, I ceased to exist.

“I think Y/N can decide if she’s busy or not,” Dominic says, standing up straighter to look down at Ethan. But Ethan seems unfazed.

“I think you need to keep walking before I lose my patience.” Ethan’s words were calm, but I knew him well enough to know this was the calm before the storm. I’ve seen him fight before; Dominic did not stand a chance if it turned into that.

“Guys, please. Just stop. If you get detention this week, they won’t let you come to homecoming.” I was trying to be the voice of reason, but my reasoning was lacking in many ways. My audience could care less about homecoming, for one.

“I’m still waiting for a response, “Dominic says, ignoring my previous statement. “Food after school? I know a cool spot.”

Ethan pulls me to the side so that he can face Dominic without me being in the middle.

“I already told you that she’s busy.” Ethan’s voice was not as calm as before. His hands were balled into fists. I knew I had to stop this now or it would turn into a fight.

“I got a lot going on right now, sorry Dominic.” My words come out quick.

Ethan smiled at this, motioning towards me. “You heard her. Now go find someone else to hit on.”

Dominic’s expression was deadly as he stared back at Ethan, but then his gaze turned to me.

“I thought you were definitely not into him,” he said it in a mocking tone, air quotations in the air. I didn’t know what to say that could make this better, so I just looked at him with what I hoped looked like a silent apology.  He just shook his head in disbelief as he pushed past us, finally leaving us alone.  

Even with his departure, Ethan stays in place, still not looking at me.

“Ethan?” I finally say.

I jump in surprise as he slams his fist on the locker door and I see the metal bend.

“Oh my God,” I grab his arm and pull him away before anyone sees what he did. I haul him through the hallway and take a left, this part of school is empty during lunch time. I find the nearest door and push him through it. I lock the door behind us and turn around. It’s the faculty bathroom, I realize.

“Are you insane? Do you know how much trouble you could get into for damaging school property? You don’t need a vandalism strike on your records.”

He finally turns to face me, but the expression on his face is even angrier than before.

“What the fuck do I care about that?” he replies. Before I can start listing the reasons why he should care, he continues, “What the fuck was that shit about?” He points to the door, but I know he is talking about Dominic. I stay quiet for a moment, not sure how to proceed. I had never seen him this angry. Ever. But at the same time, screw him. I was angry at him myself.

“I should be the one asking you, what the fuck was that? I’ve been looking for you all morning and texting you and nothing. You ghost me and then have the audacity to throw a jealous scene over some guy asking me out?!” The volume of my voice rose with each word.

 I half expected Ethan to throw more angry words at me, or to yell back at me, but it was the opposite. His voice low, he responds. “I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning.”

I stare, waiting for the punchline but he doesn’t say anything else.

“You dropped your phone in the toilet,” I repeat, not sure if I believed it.

Ethan let out an annoyed breath, “I was going to respond to your text, and I dropped it. If you texted after the first one that I read, I haven’t seen them. I left my phone in a bowl of rice.”

I scoff, “Your phone is waterproof.”

Ethan gives me a pointed look, “Not if you leave it in water for a long time, apparently.”

“Why would you leave it in there at all?”

Silence.

“Ethan, I am trying to give you the chance to explain.”

He mumbled something under his breath.

I take a step closer to hear him better. “What was that?”

Ethan shakes his head. “My parents were fighting again.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say.

Ethan laughs, but the sound is bitter.

“Yeah. So, I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you then. But you letting this dick hit on you while I’m dealing with that shit. Fuck that.”

I suddenly felt terrible, even though I didn’t know what was happening until he explained. We kept ending up in this situation, always with a misunderstanding. But I knew the only reason this kept happening is because our communication was shit. Because I didn’t know where we stood.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he was hitting on me until it was too late.” I finally say.

Ethan scoffs – not amused.

“What are we?” I finally ask, exasperated. As soon as the words spill out of my mouth, I regret them. This was the last thing Ethan would want to talk about with everything going on.

Ethan just stares at me. Looking beautiful and tortured.

“Sorry. Forget I said anything,” my voice trembles and I hate it.

Ethan steps closer. “Are you serious?”

I meet his gaze, but I can’t decipher the emotion in his eye.

“I said forget about it!” I start turning to leave, embarrassed at my outburst. Ethan just pulls me into him and kisses me. I’m too stunned to respond to his kiss, which seems to upset Ethan more as he pushes me into the bathroom sink, kissing me more aggressively. I give in and kiss him back. His tongue quickly starts a tug of war with mine as he deepens the kiss. After a moment of this, I can’t remember what we were arguing about in the first place. All I can think about is the way his mouth moves with mine, effortlessly. His hands on my waist, then lower, cupping my butt. I pull away for a moment, “It’s the teacher’s bathroom,” I said, my voice breathless.

“I don’t give a fuck,” is all he says, as he kisses me once more, then stops, “You asked me a question. I’m making my point.” I try to remember what the question was but then we’re back at it and I forget to remember.

Ethan plops me on top of the sink as we continue kissing. I feel one of his hands on my thigh and then moving slowly up under my skirt.

“Fuck.” He groans against my lips. I smile, knowing that he has realized I’m not wearing underwear.

“This better have been for me and not for that asshole,” he says as his fingers caress my opening.

I look at him, annoyed. Smack him in the chest. “Do you really think I care about Dominic?”

Ethan holds my gaze steadily and my heart flutters. Stupid body. Why do you have to react in the most annoying ways at the worst possible times. Who cares about his beautiful caramel skin and beautiful brown eyes. He is a jerk.

“I hope not.” He finally says.

“What?”

“I hope you don’t care about him. I hope you only care about me.”

My heart speeds up. “I don’t care about him or any other guy.” I start to tell him that he was the only one I care about, but I don’t get a chance to tell him. In that moment, he slips a finger inside of me and I gasp in surprise. Ethan holds my gaze as he slips a second finger in. I let out a shaky breath as he starts moving in and out.

“I’m the only guy who’s allowed to do this, do you understand?” His tone was a mixture of anger and lust. I was holding on to his arms for dear life as he pumped his fingers in and out of me, then he presses on my clitoris with both fingers, which makes me moan involuntarily. I claw my nails into his arms to keep myself together.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. Fighting the ache building up inside me and breathing heavier by the second, I nod.

His fingers stop moving suddenly, leaving with their absence, a vengeful kind of coldness and I whine in protest. “Ethannn”

“Say it.” He demands. I frown at him, annoyed.

“Fine. You’re the only one who is allowed to do this.”

He smirks. “Yeah, I am.”

I think of an insult to throw at him but never get to say it. At my saying what he wants to hear, Ethan’s hands spread my legs apart and he kneels, his head disappearing under my skirt. Still, I’m not prepared for the attack from his tongue.

Ethan’s POV

I’m not proud at how I reacted about that dick hitting on her, but when I walked over and heard him flirting with her and then asking her out…  It felt like I was set on fire by some supernatural being. It took all of me not to pummel him right there. The nerve on this fucker; to ask my girl out. But what really fucked me up is that she didn’t immediately reject him. That felt like a stab to the heart. I wanted to burn the whole damn world down.

Once in the bathroom, as we threw angry words at each other I realized what the problem was. We both care too fucking much, but we also hold back even more.

Most of the anger in me dissipates at her words when she finally says what I want to hear, even if she only says them because I told her to. I don’t know how to say the things I want to say, so I decided to show her to the best of my abilities. I drop to my knees and in between her legs and under the shield of her skirt, I kiss her in her wetness. I hear her breathing pick up as I suck at her clit; her hand grabbing at my hair. I groan, turned on even more at the simple gesture. I loved it when she did that.

I pull away and she practically whimpers. “Don’t stop.”

I stand up and look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, her chest moving fast with shallow breaths. I feel more blood rushing to my dick. The pain is almost unbearable now.

“Hang on, baby.” I fumble with the button in my jeans. Once I pull them with my boxers, I let her look at me for a moment, the desire in her eyes just driving me to the edge. I pull her to me for a second, kiss her lips softly and smile.

“Now turn around,” I order.

She looks confused for a second, but she does as she is told. Her doing everything I ask her makes me so fucking horny, she has no idea how much power she has over me. Fueled by an animalistic kind of desire, I guide her to a bending position and hold her hips with both my hands. Without a word, I push myself into her. I see her grab onto the sink to support herself as I drive myself deeper inside her. I give her a moment to get used to the feeling since it’s the first time we have done this.

I can see her flushed face through the mirror and when she makes eye contact with me, I catch the silent plea. At this, I lose whatever is left of my sanity. I plunge myself inside of her. She moans and I follow, as I slip in and out. As I watch our reflections in the mirror, I see when she starts to close her eyes as the pleasure continues to build. I hate the idea of her not looking at me when I’m inside her. I pulled out and turn her around to face me.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

I lift her onto the sink again and hold her gaze as I shove my throbbing dick inside her again. At this angle, her head falls back when she screams. I grab her face to make her look at me.

“God, Ethan.” Her reaction eggs me on. I move faster, knowing I have a limited time to make her cum. I was barely hanging on as it is. Our breaths were labored as I continued to fuck her. You could hear her wetness as I moved, but her pussy continued to tighten around me so I knew she was close. I slid out a bit and positioned myself slightly to the left before I pushed myself in again. She screamed, loudly this time. I smiled at finding the right spot and moved faster. This time, as if we were in sync, we came together. Once we rode the wave, breathing heavily, I gently helped her off the sink. After pulling my pants up, I loop my arms around her and rest my sweaty forehead against hers. We both closed our eyes, trying to catch our breath.

“What I was trying to say is… you’re mine.” I finally found the words.

I open my eyes to find her watching me. Her face gets redder. I’m confused for a moment and then realize why she’s upset.

“And I’m yours. I thought that part was obvious.” I say.

Y/N narrows her eyes at me, and I laugh.

“How is that obvious?” she asks.

“I told you how I felt last week. If anything, I’m the only one that should be angry. You never told me how you felt about me.”

“I thought that part was obvious.” She throws the words back at me, her tone playful.  

I smile and kiss her deeply.

“So how do you feel about me?” I ask after we stop.

I didn’t want to admit that it had bothered me so much. We’ve spent the last week glued to each other and not once had she brought it up, so I decided to not bring it up and make an even bigger fool out of myself. But the more days passed, the more insecure I became. That’s probably why I lost my mind earlier.

Y/N smiles softly and cups my face with her hands.

“I’ve been crazy about you for I don’t know how long,” she says. I smiled at her words, the heavy feeling in my chest finally easing.

“Me? But I suck,” I say jokingly.

“Yet I’m still in love with you.” She pushes at me gently, embarrassed. I grin like an idiot at her declaration.

I grab her face and kiss her again. Once, twice, three times.

“Ethan,” she giggles. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her there too, holding her tightly against me.

“I love you too.” I say.

When she looks at me, I see stars in eyes.

A knock on the door makes us both jump.

“Shit.”

Y/N POV

“Oh God, we’re going to get expelled.”

Ethan chuckles at this and I smack his arm.

“Just deny everything. They didn’t see anything so it’s their word against ours.”

I shake my head, “But the door was locked.”

“Hey,” he says, lifting my chin up, “You trust me?”

I nod and he smiles.

“Then follow my lead.”

I do. I walk slowly behind him, fighting the soreness in my body and holding on to Ethan’s arm when I notice how shaky my legs are. Ethan looks beside me and realizes. He gives me what seems to be an apologetic smile.

We moved to the door, which was still being knocked on. He turns the lock and opens it.

We’re both surprised to see Paxton standing there, swimming coach uniform on. I don’t think Ethan was prepared to see him of all people. He stays quiet.

Paxton looks at him and then me, almost trying to hide a smile.

“You guys should go. Now. Be thankful it was me.”

I let out a sigh of relief and so did Ethan. We started moving around him and out into the hallway, but Paxton put a hand up to stop me as I was about to walk past him.

“You might want to try being a bit more… discreet next time.” I look at him, confused and he elaborates, stepping closer to not be heard. “You were loud. Like very loud.” I blush furiously at his words and speed away from him. I heard him chucking behind me.

The end of lunch arrives at the sound of the bell and suddenly the empty hallways fill up again, everyone going into classrooms and their lockers to pick up their stuff at the last minute. As we’re moving through the people around us, Ethan’s hand slips into mine and he interlocks our fingers. I quickly looked at him in a question. But he just smiles. We walk to my next classroom, and he walks in with me, hand in hand, even though we don’t share this class. We get to my desk, which coincidentally, is next to Dominic’s. I understand now.

“Thanks for walking me.” I say, shyly. I hear my classmates whistling and adding commentary in the background. I sit down but notice Ethan hasn’t moved from his spot. I look at him in a question. He then bends down and kisses me long. I vaguely hear angry muttering beside me, but I ignore it, lost in the kiss.

“Good afternoon Mr. Morales. I wasn’t aware I had you in this class.” My math teacher had arrived.

Ethan winked at me as he moved away to leave. “I’m out,” he tells my teacher, hands up in surrender, turns around and points at me, “I just wanted to take care of my lady.”

The whole class reacts loudly.

I sink lower into my desk. Still, I smile. He was announcing to the world that we’re together, claiming me in front of everyone.  I couldn’t imagine ever being happier than I was in that moment.

The End.

___________________

A/N: Thank you all for reading! You are bomb! Hope you enjoyed this little story of mine. I enjoyed writing it. Stay tuned for other fanfics and/or one shots about Ethan. ☺️

Stay awesome, much love xx

#ethan morales #ethan morales fanfic #ethan morales x reader #never have i ever #never have i ever season 4 #ben gross #devi vishwakumar #michael cimino #nhie #nhie s4

[heich0e]

dear liv,

thoughts on having threesome with suna and osamu, ( ONLY BC THIS MAKES ME SALIVATE WAY TOO MUCH )

best regards,

🌺 anon

babe i need you to know when you first sent me this ask it hit me like a SUCKER PUNCH!! this is close to what you asked about but it got away from me a bit lmao.

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

osamu would have to be blind not to see the way that suna looks at you, considering how shameless he is about it.

it's been going on for as long as the two of you have been together, lingering gazes when you're close to him, his eyes following the sway of your body as you leave a room, peeking (less than subtly) down your top when the cut is low and you're reaching for something.

and osamu ignores it, for the most part. suna's always been a bit of a weirdo, but he's harmless. he's his friend. and osamu certainly can't blame him for the way he looks at you, considering if the situations were reversed he'd almost surely do the same.

but he’d have to be deaf to miss it when he asks:

“if you ever died, would you let me fuck your girlfriend?”

osamu’s had a lifetime of dealing with atsumu to prepare himself for hearing some of the most heinous, shocking garbage imaginable come out of another human being’s mouth. but he’s still not quite prepared for this.

“what the fuck kinda question is that?” osamu asks, but for some reason it’s not as angry as it could be, just bewildered.

suna shrugs, taking a sip of the beer he’s nursing at the onigiri miya counter.

“wouldn’t you want her to be well taken care of in the event of your untimely passing?”

“by you?” osamu asks, setting aside the rag he’d been using to wipe the countertop to stare his best friend down.

the restaurant is closed, the staff is gone, the music that usually plays overhead has been turned off.

suna leans back in his seat under osamu’s gaze, seemingly not ill-at-ease in the slightest in spite of the tightening in the baseball-capped man’s jaw. he quirks a brow.

“would you prefer atsumu?” 

“i’d prefer neither of you scrubs ever put a hand anywhere near her,” osamu counters the preposterous suggestion. but then he pauses, and against his better judgement he considers it. 

he doesn’t mean to, really, it’s entirely an instinctive reaction. he pictures his twin sleeping beside you at night in your bed at home—under the blankets that osamu helped pick out, that osamu helps you put out on the clothesline on sunny days, that osamu clenches into tight fists as he fucks you down into the mattress—and it makes his stomach turn. 

his mind flickers next to suna. his best friend for more years than anyone has any business associating with someone so troublesome. he pictures you and suna in your bed, suna nestled in between your thighs on those same blankets in just the way you like, your knees looped over his broad, toned shoulders as he devours your sweet, sticky—

“you were totally just picturing it, weren’t you?”

god, osamu wants to throttle him.

“shut the fuck up.” he tosses his dirty rag at him instead.

suna laughs as he bats the cloth away. and then it’s quiet again.

osamu looks at rintarou's hands. his long, lithe fingers and the way they wrap around his can of beer.

he pictures them wrapped around your throat.

the hum of the refrigeration system, the faint sizzling of carbonation in suna's drink, and osamu's suddenly spiking pulse are the only sounds to be heard.

“i mean,” osamu sighs, his voice a little quiet, a little breathless, “better you than him i guess.”

suna blinks, a little shocked osamu gave him a straight answer.

“really?” he asks, his excitement not veiled in the slightest.

“if you keep askin’ about this i’ll put a clause in my will that bans you from ever comin’ within 10 metres of her.”

“alright, alright,” suna says, lifting his hands in concession, letting the matter rest.

there’s another one of those moments of quiet that osamu doesn’t quite like, because it gives him time to think. gives him free reign to picture you bouncing up and down on his best friend’s lap while you’re swallowing his own length down your throat.

that wasn’t even the question. he’s supposed to be dead in this hypothetical scenario—and he kind of wishes he were when he thinks about your sweet, tearstained face, begging him to let you cum on his best friend’s cock. when he picture’s rintarou’s fucked out expression when he desperately echoes your plea.

samu squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the palpable twitch his cock gives under his apron.

“you feeling alright?” suna asks, seeming genuinely a little concerned.

“yeah, m’fine,” osamu replies dismissively, running his hand over his face in an attempt to hide the blush he can feel creeping into his cheeks.

suna shrugs, reaching for his nearly empty beer once more.

“seriously though, if you think you’re dying let me know. i’ll need time to prepare.”

#osamu x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou #miya osamu #suna #osamu #suna x you #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #liv got mail

[heartfullofleeches]

Parasitic Angel

Yandere Incubus (Oc) x G.N Reader 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: Reader is implied to have depression, themes of masochism and gaslighting

It’s too loud. Music surrounds you; swarming every thought as it thumps loudly in your ears. You sit at the bar, nursing a watered down drink in your hands as the time passes. You don’t remember what you ordered, nor do you feel like trying it out. The remaining ice clinks against the glass as you stir it around, reflecting your distant gaze on its surface. All you wanted was a little fresh air, but it was starting to feel stuffier than back at your apartment. Maybe it was time to just head back. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” 

A voice cuts through to your left; a curious smile stretched across its soft features. You’re not sure how you failed to notice the chair pulling out next to you, nor the click of his heels on the mirrored floor; but one thing was clear. With his arm propped up on the counter, and his leg wrapped around the foot of the chair; he made it obvious he wasn’t going anywhere soon. His backpack hung on the chair's back; two wings sewn into its pink spine. 

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” His smile edges into a friendly grin. He turns towards the bartender and starts chatting with him. You try to think nothing of it, but he soon returns his attention back to you; straw nursed on bright red lips as he speaks. “So, what are you doing here all by yourself?”

You look around, unsure as to whether he was talking to you or not. The awaiting stare he gives when you look back leads you to believe so. “Nothing. I was just out getting fresh air, and thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to sit in here for a while.”

“That sounds nice.” He muses, voice shrinking as he carries on. I was here with a couple friends, but it looks like they ditched me.`` 

“Oh, uh, that’s unfortunate. I guess.” 

He perks up almost immediately.  “It’s okay. There’s lots of people to keep me company. Would you mind doing that for a few minutes?”

“I’m not sure if I’d be the best person for that.”

“It’s just a little conversing. I’m sure you won’t bite. You can start off by telling me your name.”

“…Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/n. Everyone just calls me C.C.” The stranger scoots closer to you; staring so deeply in your eyes it made you a little uneasy. “So, tell me a little more about yourself.”

Despite better judgment; you tell him a few things. That’s what places like this were for after all – to let loose a little. Nothing damming, just a couple facts to get the conversation rolling. He seems invested, but after a while you begin to hear the click of his manicured nails on the countertop. 

When it’s his turn; C.C opens up like a book. He likes sweets, hates things that are spicy. A lightweight when it comes to alcohol. He apparently has an occupation in music, and enjoys hanging out in various bars on nights out. Despite all that, he claims at the end of his rambling that he feels – lonely. 

You check the time on your phone after what feels like hours had gone by. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably leave soon.”

“Aw, but I thought we were having fun. Could we.. continue the conversation somewhere else?.” He leans in closer; the shine of the disco lights above reflecting in his large eyes. Swirling around in his green irises; lips quirked in an enticing snare – it's almost hypnotic. He continues to tap his nails against the bar; its rhythm in tune with the beat of your heart. 

“Nah.. I have work in the morning, so I need to get some sleep.”

He bites back a frown: shoulders slumping. “Oh… that makes sense. Will I see you around though?”

“I’m not sure, but talking with you was kinda.. nice. Do you want my number or something?”

“Sure.” C.C grins. You exchange numbers and leave him alone at the bar shortly after. He clicks his tongue as you leave; disappointed an easy catch got away. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been someone who could resist his charms in the past, but it was always a pain when it happened. Oh well. At the very least, he got your number and that meant you weren’t completely out of reach yet.

-

Life went on, and you with it. The encounter had honestly begun to slip from your mind; till the weekend you received a call around noon. You forgot to actually save his number by name, but as you picked up you knew exactly who it was.

“Heyyy, Y/n. Miss me?”

“Oh, hey. C.C, right? What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just wanted to see how my new acquaintance was doing. You haven’t called me so I was worried! Aaaanyway, I have reservations to this cute little café that just opened up, but the friend I was going with bailed on me. Are you free today?”

“I’m not doing anything specific, but-“

“Great! I’ll send you the location. See you soon.”

He hangs up before you could reply and sends you the information. You really had nothing better to do, so you decided it couldn’t hurt to go.

The café was a quaint little place. Styled similarly to a cottage in a way, and walls painted red. An outdoor section was gated off by a small fence; tables lined up with matching umbrellas overhead. You spot C.C at one of the vacant tables; excitedly waving to you as you cross the street. He gets up and meets you halfway, leading you back to the table.

“Thank you so much for coming, Y/n. It would’ve been too lonely to sit at a place like this by myself.” He laughs; wing shaped earrings hanging from his lobes bouncing from the motion. A few things about him were different from the last time you saw him. His once strawberry blonde curls were now a faded lavender color; his eyes hazel. He had a few piercings through his left eyebrow that were easier to see due to his hair being pinned back by a hair clip with a bow and arrow drawn through it.

“No problem.. I. like your new look.”

“Really?” He brushes a strand behind his ear. “I change it often, but just had this done before my roots came out. Life needs variety, y'know? How has it been treating you lately, by the way? I’ve been thinking about you a lot since our last meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, it just seems like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders or something.”

“I wouldn’t say that… Just going through like most people I do I guess.” 

“I see. Well I don’t mind lending an ear sometimes.” C.C beams. Even if he couldn’t get the direct source; there were other ways to extract energy from humankind. Humans are so full of emotion; practically spilling from their hearts at any given moment. Not his preferred taste, but one he could manage. And to him, you were like a buffet. 

-

After that little get together, C.C found himself calling you again – and again. It was slightly refreshing to do things differently, and talking with you actually relieved some of his frustrations during rougher patches. If someone were to ask, he'd almost warm up to the idea of calling you a friend. You open up more as well over the following weeks. Obviously you didn’t dump any issues or stuff similar on him, but it was nice to have someone.

You find yourselves in his bedroom on the top floor in some fancy apartment building one summer eve; the world at your feet from the full view window by his bed. Rain beat against the thick glass; skies clouded by a blanket of darkness. You lay on his bed; an earbud fit in one ear and his song of choice blasting. 

“This is nice…” You mutter.

“I know right? This is one of my favorite songs from this artist.”

“Well, that too, but it’s nice to be able to just lay back and relax every once and a while. Things can get really stressful sometimes.” 

C.C looks down at you; your body sprawled on his silky sheets. He couldn’t hide the curiosity he had in seeing you in another light. He wasn’t one to take much notice in the differences between one human to the next, but you were a cute little thing. He lays down beside you; far enough so there’s no tension in the air, but where you were still in arms reach. He walks his fingers towards your side, laying his hand flat on the mattress as they brush against your arm.

“There’s always other ways I can help you out, Y/n.. All you need to do is ask.”

You turn your head so that you can face him completely, a faint smile on your face. “I.. like things the way they are now.”

C.C freezes at the softness in your gaze. He pulls his hand back to his side of the bed like yours was suddenly made of fire. Have.. Have your eyes always been so bewitching? He found himself lost in them, like he had tried to get you to see in his. He takes note of the curve of your lips, wondering how they’d feel against his. He sits up; almost crashing back to the mattress from the dull headache that shoots through his skull. 

“Aha.. Fuck..”

“C.C? Are you ok?” You sit up as well, lightly grabbing his arm as you check on him. The skin to skin contact sends a jolt up his spine; burning in a symphony of pleasure and an excruciating sting. He rips his arm free; your worry turning to confusion as you look at him.  

“Do… do the contacts you’re wearing change color?”

“What?..”

You point at his eyes. “Your eyes. They're pink.”

C.C bolts to the bathroom, ripping his bangs from his face. Just as you claimed; his eyes were a soft pink; their true color. They had bled through the yellow contacts he had put in that morning; glowing fainting in the bathroom light. He shoves a finger in his socket, but the contact is completely gone. He breathes heavily; letting out a shaky laugh with each exhale. It was just his eyes acting funny. There was nothing more behind it. Nothing at all.

-

C.C grew distant after that point. You still talked from time to time, but he wasn’t always his cheerful self; letting a darker, anxious version of himself slip through the cracks. His stomach twisted into knots when he saw you; his throat dry no matter how many bottles of water he downed. What the hell were you doing to him? It had to stop. 

For the first time ever, you’re the one that picks up the phone to call. He doesn’t answer when the line connects; hesitant to answer at all. Your voice is quiet when you finally speak; quivering. It makes his knees weak.

“C.C?”

“…Yea?”

“Can you, can you come over?”

“Why?”

“I’d really just like to see you.”

C.C's heart beats so fast it doesn’t feel like it’s moving at all. His face is hot; blistering from the heat. He collects himself eventually and gives you his response. “Sure.”

As your front door clicks open, he feels like running away. Turning tail and never seeing your adorable face again. Your eyes were as dull as when he first met you. It makes him want to hold you. 

“Hey….”He doesn’t reply to your greeting, silently following you inside. He had been over a couple times, but never paid as much attention to the layout of your apartment till now. It was small, fit for one unlike his that could fit a small family. You sit down on the couch; neither of you finding words to say. As time clicks on; you finally wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Y/n?!” He squeals, your breath hot on his neck as you place your face in its crook. “I’m sorry. I just… need to be close to someone right now, and you’re the only one that’s been around for a while.”

“Ah…”He slowly brings his arms around you, resting against the arm of the couch for support. He can feel your heartbeat thumping against his chest, and wonders if you can hear his. It’s so loud he can barely form a thought. That tingling feeling has returned; spreading over every area where your flesh meets. As if to seal the final nail in his coffin, you stare up at him with a look of gratitude.

“Thank you, C.C.”

He still couldn’t understand what you had done to him. Why that one expression had him feeling like no crowd had ever before – the center of the entire world. He finally had your body against his, but not in the way he originally wanted – yet it was so much better. He liked the fact that you needed him. He wanted to feel that rush through him forever. He wanted you to need him more. In whatever way you wanted. No matter how sick or twisted. 

Hurt him.

Break him. 

Ruin him. Whatever you desired. Just don't leave.

He would never come to learn what these feelings were until weeks later. In the time he had distanced himself from you, you had made a few new friends through the fleeting confidence you had given him. It was just some folks at work and close to it, but they were nice. One in particular, however, was just a little nicer than the rest.

-

“I think I’m in love with someone, C.C.”

The thought came from nowhere. You were one his bed again, some movie playing in the background as you spoke your mind. You could consider him your best friend at his point, and you something else entirely to him. He rolls over onto his stomach; bile risen in the back of his throat. 

Love.

Even though you’re already past it, he can see the way you look at just the mention of this maybe crush. It disgusts him. What did this person do to win your heart? What did this maggot have that would make you fall for them like this? What did it have, that he didn’t?

“Are you sure, Y/n?”

“I said I think.. Why do you ask though?”

“I just want the best for my bestie.. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything like that. He’s.. nice.”

C.C's eye twitches. “Really? Well tell me all about him then.”

-

Peter whistles to himself as he walks down the dimly lit road away from the busy club he had been in moments prior. His face was flush with the buzz that ran through him, and his steps were staggered. He felt good. The kind of good that he would regret tomorrow. Hopefully there would be someone who could cover his shift in the morning. As he passes the alley by the club's back entrance there’s a small click. Like metal bubble wrap. He pays no mind and carries on, but the shadows had other plans for him. 

So this is the piece of shit that was trying to steal you away? He stunk worse than the garbage right at his side. C.C wouldn’t let this filth rub his stench over you. He was grateful that the pest came to him, but he still had to pay. The thought of him near you made C.C reach. They all needed to be gotten rid of. They need to stay away.

Stay away.

Stay the fuck away from his Y/n!”

-

C.C stabs the blade of his box cutter into the lid of a letter in hand, skimming over its contents before chucking them onto a pile on the floor.

“Fuck, this is so tedious. I’m almost done, so we can head out soon, Y/n.”

You sit on the edge of the bed beside him, your eyes still red and puff. Quietly, you mumble. “Do.. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

C.C drops his cutter on the bed as he pulls you into a hug. “Of course not, babe. Why would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know why he said all those things to me..”

“He didn’t deserve you, Y/n. There’s no need to get worked up over someone like him, because you have me and I’m gonna take you out on the best night of your life!”

His voice drops down to a whisper, body shuddering as he eyes the box cutter on the bed. “But you know… if you need another way to get that frustration out, I’m always here.” 

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere story #yandere male #yandere demon #tw yandere #yandere oneshot #yandere writing #yandere scenario #*throws him at the wall like a wet papertowel* c.c my beloved

[maiyami]

𝑀𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝐼𝓉 𝒲𝒶𝓈 𝒜 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

“She was there…I swear she was.”

Keigo Takami X Female Reader

One-Shot

Minors do not interact. 18+

Unedited, I’m very sorry about that.

Content: Mentions of past relationship, dream walking, nsfw, dreams, hawks believes he sees his ex-girlfriend, open ended ending, smut, adult language, sex, trigger warnings, etc.

———————————————————————————

It was just another night, crispy air surrounded Keigo as he made his way back to his penthouse. Back, wings, arm, legs…anything that could be sore and tired was. With a loud huff, he slid open the sliding glass door. Shimming his way through before taking in his now barren looking living room.

It actually sadden his soul, even though it’d been months…he still missed your presence. The scent of your vanilla perfume floating around your once shared space, and the way you beamed at him when he finally was able to come home. He wasn’t even sure he should still be this upset, one day you were here then the next gone. Never getting an explanation as to why you left.

With an even deeper sigh, he kicked his boots off. Shrugged off his jacket, throwing it over the couch before sulking off to the bathroom. Maybe an extremely cold shower will shake him out of the mood. Even though he knew it wouldn’t. He had become so accustomed to putting the water hotter than hell itself for you that it just came naturally once he started the shower.

A defeated chuckle left his lips, remembering how many times you’d both bicker over the temperature. Thinking how silly it all was now, how silly he was that he couldn’t just let you want to melt both your skin off with the heat. He remembered the little pout everytime on your adorable features when he even attempted to turn it cooler. Saying something along the lines of how your quirk didn’t keep you warm like his wings do for him. He always liked to play over that look on your face anytime he went into a too hot shower.

Exiting the bathroom now, he finally decided enough with these pesky emotions. Sleep will make it better, sleep always made things better for him. He can get lost in whatever his mind comes up with. Losing his towel that sat low on his hips, he planted himself flat on his stomach. Wispy hairs all over his pillow as slept took over his body.

———————————————————————————

Keigo blinked his eyes open, furrowing his brows. A dreamless night? That was new, even for him. A groan slipping from his lips, he turned himself to his back. Staring up at his ceiling fan, watching the blades turn ever so slowly until a giggle graced his ears. He shot himself upright, he knew that giggle anywhere. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim room, he saw you.

There you were, standing near the corner of his bedroom. Your bright eyes piercing through the darkness to lock onto his golden ones. Hair cascading down your back into a low ponytail just how you used to wear it. Not to mention the lack of clothing not snugging your amazing body.

Another beautiful giggle slipped from your throat before tilting your head. “Miss me, pretty bird?” The nickname you dubbed him many moons ago, it was music to his ears. You were artwork to his eyes. All he could do is sit there, in all his glory staring back at you with his mouth hanging open. Why were you back? You had quiet literally fallen off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you. But now here you are, standing naked in his room.

“Keigo…are you not happy to see me?” Your voice almost sounded innocent, maybe a little timid. You started toward, light on your toes as you came up on your knees at the foot of the bed.

Keigo couldn’t help but look over your body, your perfect skin. How your nipples hardened in the cool air of the room, or how your thighs looked so plush pushed together as your knees touched. He felt arousal build in his stomach, it tingled all the way down to his cock. The throb couldn’t be ignored, trying to push his lewd thoughts out of his mind to try and speak.

“Y/N…what- what are you doing here?” His voice almost sounded foreign to himself. It rang in his ears, made him flush from cheek to cheek. “You’ve been missing? Everyone went looking for you…why are you here?” He couldn’t wrap his head around this, he also couldn’t understand how he didn’t feel you come inside. He lays his feather out everywhere through his penthouse…he would have felt you come inside.

You sort of just sighed, looking over him before your eyes peered down at his hardening erection before trailing them back up to his face. “I’m missing, Keigo? Why haven’t you found me yet?” You felt forward onto your palms, crawling your way up to him. You could physically see his body freeze, almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Finally you sat perfectly on his lap, thighs caging him down. “Won’t you come find me?” You whispered this time, leaning forward to press your bare chest to his.

“Find you? But you’re here…here with me.” He whispered back, thinking this was just some game you decided to play. He hesitated to touch you, handing coming up before balling into fists. “You left me…without a word.” There was a little venom in that sentence, hurt flashing in his eyes. He felt you reach down, grabbing his hands to place them on your hips. You were here, he could feel your skin under his. In his palms, giving you a soft squeeze.

“I’ll never leave you again…never.” You whispered back, leaning forward to press your lips to his. That’s when the restraint Keigo was holding in finally snapped. He gripped you tighter, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Sweet, you taste sweet. Like cream and strawberries on his tongue, it was intoxicating. Your vanilla scent filled the room as Keigo broke the kiss off. Moving to plant kisses down your neck.

"Never fucking again..." He murmurs against your skin, lifting your hips up ever so slightly. Letting the head of his cock brush against your slick folds. The physical shutter you felt come out of him was something out of this world. How wet you were melted all of Keigo's fears away. This was no dream, you were here. In his arms, about to sit pretty on his cock. Bringing you down slowly, he split you in two. He wasn't sure if it was from how long it's been since he's had sex or that this was just the power you had over him, but he felt like he was hit by a truck of lust.

With every drag of his cock, your walls tightened around him. Sucking him in deeper and deeper. Your warm walls felt like heaven, at least the closest thing he was ever going to get that would resemble heaven. He looked up, watching the pleasure take over your irises. Watching your head fall back and be lost in the feeling of his touch. He wanted to savor this moment, replay it in his mind over and over again until the day he dies.

The way your slick cunt was moving up and down on him was breathtaking. So he gripped you tighter, deciding to thrust up into you with long and calculated strokes. Bringing you all the way down to his base, his head bullying its way against your cervix. If he died right now? He would be the happiest man that ever did walk this plain of life. The feeling of your nails digging crescent marks into his tanned skin was enough to drive him wild.

As you bounced up and down his cock, he let one of his feathers pluck itself out of his wings. Spreading them wide as that little feather slipped in between you both. Until it reached your clit, pressing teasingly slow circles against that extra sensitive spot of yours. The surprised moan that you let out brought a cheeky smirk to his lips.

"That's it baby...lose yourself on my cock. Fucking cum...make a goddamn mess...Y/N...fuck-" He moaned out loudly, thrusting up into you with a brutal pace. It was enough to make you see the stars in the sky, and feel every nerve in your body ignite.

As you cried out a gurgled mix of fuck and his name, you came undone on his cock. Your slick dripping down his cock, red marks deepened into his skin before your walls squeezed with all their power around his cock. A gasp left his lips, making him thrust even harder into you before sputtering out moan after moan.

"Fuck-FUCK...gonna cum...shit- baby bird I am going to fucking cum...can I-" Before he could even finish that sentence, you locked lips with him one last time. Not giving him any room to pull out of your already dripping cunt.

Feeling his whole body shake, he pulled you tight against his chest. Painting your walls white before finally breaking from your crushing kiss. His breathing was heavy, the room smelt like sex, and his vision was blurred. You leaned in, letting your lips just brush the shell of his ear.

"Keigo...I need you to wake up."

Suddenly, Keigo's eyes shot open. Sitting himself upright to take a survey of the room. The room smelt like clean sheets, with the underline smell of musk. His body felt hot, while the sticky feeling of his spent tickled his torso. Looking to the side of the bed that was once yours, you were still not there. Was it all a dream? It couldn't have been, he felt you in his hands, against his skin, and on his cock.

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

The next day, he returned to work as normal. However, your imagine was gnawing at the back of his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of you. As he sat at his desk, mulling over what he should do...an old friend decided to stop by.

Endeavor came stomping through his door, disappointment gracing his features as he looked at the Number Two Hero "relaxing" at his desk. His fire flared, slamming a hand onto the desk to get Keigo's attention.

"Hawks! How dare you sit around and do nothing. Shouldn't you be out on patrol." Like Endeavor had any right coming into Keigo's agency and yelling at him as if he was a sidekick. Keigo just glared at him, something that rarely came from the calm and cool winged hero.

"Y/H/N-" He started to say, getting a cocked eyebrow from the flaming hero. "She came to my house last night...she was there...I swear she was...standing in my room. In my bed-" Keigo cut himself off before finally making eye contact with Endeavor.

However, the flamed hero said nothing. He looked over at Keigo before motioning him to follow. Now the winged hero was raising a brow, lifting himself up to follow the Number One Hero out onto the balcony.

Once they were both finally outside, Endeavor let out a heavy sigh. "When Y/H/N first went missing, I sent out a sidekick to do some digging." This surprised Keigo, everyone had given up trying to find you. Even he himself had just given up, believing that you just didn't want to be found.

Endeavor handed a packet to Keigo, telling him to open it. What was inside it? Damn near made his heart stop. It was your cracked cellphone, with one half-typed text message that was never sent. It was to Keigo's personal cellphone number.

"I need help, LoV is after me. Dabi foun-"

Keigo looked at Endeavor, his fist gripping the cell phone tight. The rage in his eyes could stop anyone in their tracks. "Y/N- said to me that I need to find her. I thought it was real...but she came to me in a dream. She isn't missing, she's been taken."

#Spotify #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks smut #bnha hawks #keigo takami #mha smut #my hero academia #bnha #my hero acedamia #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #hawks #keigo takami fic #hawks headcanons #female reader #oneshot #keigo headcanons

[findmeabowlofundertale]

IT’S HERE, PART 5

MMMM the pacing and tone shifts are even worse but yknow what too diddly darn bad. As usual, this wasn’t meant to be so long, it got away from me, yada yada. But actually I’ve mentally worked out several plot things for… the distant future, and stuck some of them in here oh so cleverly. Like a sneaky snail. Ohohoho

…I am. So tired.

So I’ll probably edit this in the morning.

Edit: I did edit it.

Part 4 (prev), Part 6 (next)

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Alphys helped Asteri get Dr. Gaster to the couch. Despite Asteri being quite tall herself and therefore having furniture to match, he was even taller, and so his feet stuck off the one end. It didn't matter though, because he passed out almost immediately. (Despite his protests on the way to the living room.) That left the two women.

"I hope it's alright that you're away this long," Asteri worried aloud as they returned to the kitchen table. "I mean you don't have to stay, of course, but I assumed it might be a little strange to return to work sans your boss?" 

"Eheh, yeah... O-Oh! But if you, um, want me to go, I can! If you wanted it to be, uh, y-you know... Just you guys? When he wakes up?"

Asteri gave a dry smile and quirked an eyebrow. "What reason, exactly, would I have for wanting it to be just the two of us?"

Alphys' face went red, and she looked anywhere but at the shapeshifter. "W-W-Well!! Y-You know! If you... wanted to… talk…. a-about anything...?" She glanced back to Asteri, who looked tired but amused. "I-I-I don't know!!"

"Alphys, I'm not going to bo-- oh my god I can't believe I almost said that. I'm not going to sleep with your boss. I barely even know him."

The lizard monster sputtered in embarrassment at her apparent transparency for a few seconds before managing words. "W-Well I don't know! Y-You guys were all- all blushy and stuff earlier!"

"Because there was an embarrassing misunderstanding!" Asteri objected. As if to illustrate, it seemed the heat in her cheeks was returning again. "Other than that, there were a couple moments of emotional vulnerability that were necessary but still uncomfortable given the low level of familiarity between us." 

"...S-So you don't, um, h-have a... crush on--"

"I met him ONE other time, Alphys! Have you been reading romance novels or something?"

The way Alphys froze and the ensuing silence spoke volumes. 

"...I mean, no judgement." A beat passed. "He's not into ME though, is he?”

“I-! I don't... think so? I think he’s, um, I think he’s just happy to have a friend.”

Asteri smiled to herself. “A friend, huh? I can’t say I ever expected the Royal Scientist to think of me as a friend.”

A few thoughtful seconds passed before Alphys spoke. “M-Maybe that’s— um. A-Actually, n-never mind!”

“What?”

“N-No, it was kind of, um, r-rude, I’m sorry.”

“Well now you have to tell me.” Alphys looked uneasy, so Asteri smiled. “I won’t be offended, promise.”

Alphys sighed in defeat and fidgeted with her hands. “W-Well maybe, um. M-Maybe y-you keep- keep feeling like that, because, um... Do I have to say this??”

“Yes. Now I’m really curious.”

Another huff of resignation, followed by an awkward groan. “M-Maybe it’s b-because you… only, um. Only think of him like- like that? A-As “the Royal Scientist.””

Asteri made a thoughtful noise and leaned her chin on her wing.

“W-WHICH IS LIKE TOTALLY U-UNDERSTANDABLE!” Alphys hurried to add. “I-I-It’s really in-intimidating! I totally freaked out when I first met him! H-He’s this big, important figure who-who’s been around forever, s-so of course you wanna be, um, r-respectful, and stuff. But… I’ve worked with him f-for the last year, um, a-a little more actually, a-and he’s… really nice. H-He doesn’t treat anyone like- like they’re below him. Actually, he kind of? Does the opposite? He’s always in-incredibly careful with e-experiments that involve anyone else, but if he’s doing it by himself, half the time he won’t even wear safety gear unless someone reminds him. H-He listens whenever anyone has any concerns, he brings in snacks, he never yells at anyone— a-actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seem him mad, e-except maybe at himself? Everything he does is f-for the good of everyone else, to take care of us all down here. B-But… He doesn’t, um. H-He doesn’t really… have anyone to… take care of him? N-Not that he needs t-to be taken care of! He’s a g-grown monster! Obv-Obviously…”

“No, I know what you mean,” Asteri murmured. “Being alive so long must be… lonely. If all you have is taking care of others...”

She thought back to how he had mentioned that nobody asked him about skeleton history, or culture. How excited he was to share. If she stopped looking at it all through the lens of academia…

“He just doesn’t have anyone to talk to about his life, does he?”

“W-Well! Th-There’s us at the lab. B-But, um… no. He doesn’t… really talk, um, very much, about his life outside work.” She was quiet a moment. “I guess, m-maybe that’s why he… makes it his life.”

Asteri exhaled and slowly lowered her forehead to the table. “God, that’s so sad.”

She wasn’t pitying him. She wasn’t. But that was sad, that a person who had lived so long could give so much and receive so little. But it weren’t as if their… friendship (it really felt far too soon to call it that) so far were based on pity, or because she felt bad for him. No, the core of all of this was that he was extremely enjoyable to talk with. He was funny, too. Kind. Patient above all, answering her questions and explaining things thoroughly without ever being condescending. Their conversation at the donut shop was what she imagined it felt like when two gears fit together just so. A meeting of the minds, so to speak. Because, if she thought about it, if she took everything he had said as completely genuine, then it had been just as enjoyable to him. Come to think of it, it hadn’t felt like a superior trying to teach her something, even though he had taught her a number of things. It had felt like how she remembered college being, when she and her classmates would piece things together as they learned. It felt bright like that, warm like that. Their excitement built off each other’s. For as much as she had learned, with the way he spoke to her, the way he treated her, she felt like she had contributed just as much. She never felt stupid. Silly, maybe, but never lesser.

It was such a pleasant conversation that had she reflected on it this much before, she likely wouldn’t have been able to resist trying to call him, or at least emailing him. Which was why it was better, easier, to tell herself that it wasn’t genuine, just like all her colleagues. What a mistake that had been. If she set aside the fact that both of them were academics, and imagined that conversation between two people regular people, it was unquestionably the beginning of a potential friendship.

“Alright,” Asteri decided, lifting her head from the table. “That’s it.”

Alphys startled, voice fluttering as she shifted nervously in her seat. “W-What’s- What’s it?”

Asteri sat up straight. “I’m getting this man some friends. And I’m going to be one of them!”

The two seconds of silence were too long, and her face flushed blue-green.

“Not… sure where the sudden resolution came from,” she mumbled, hunching inward slightly. “That was weird. Ignore that.”

“N-No, it was cool!!” Alphys insisted. “Y-You’re like an anime character….”

That got a questioning (though not judgmental) eyebrow raise from the shapeshifter. This time Alphys blushed.

“W-Well, um! A r-really common, um, th-theme! Is! The- The power of, um, friendship. P-Plus! Y-You’ve got the colorful, spiky hair! Well, um, sort of. A-And, um… Uh. A-Actually that’s… mostly it. S-Sorry.”

Asteri smiled. Alphys seemed like a very earnest person. She liked that. “Don’t apologize. I said at the dump that I’d like to hear more about anime once we weren’t busy. We’ve certainly got time now, if you’d like to tell me more.” She gestured with the tip of her wing to the DVD cases and manga on still on the table. “Do you know these ones?”

Alphys looked like someone had just given her the key to breaking the Barrier. Those were the sparkliest eyes Asteri had ever seen on any monster, ever. And the biggest grin she’d ever seen on anybody with skin. “O-Oh my god, really?” she breathed with audible disbelief. “You really want to- to hear about it?”

“Sure! You’ve certainly listened to me enough today.”

“OMG, okay! S-So first you have to know a little about um, J-Japanese culture! I don’t actually know too much, because I haven’t found a lot of intact DVDs, or manga that hasn’t been totally waterlogged, b-but here’s what I do know…”

⁂

For the second time in two months, Asteri had a conversation that lasted until nighttime. Unlike in New Home, where sunlight from the surface did come through the Barrier in some places and indicated night and day, here in Waterfall it was always dark, save for the perpetual glow of the water, crystals, and mushrooms. The clock, however, was indicator enough. In the last several hours, Asteri leaned about: Samurai and ninja, magical girls, the Japanese system of honorifics (which had derailed into an intense linguistic interrogation for a while before returning to the original topic), cherry blossoms and their symbolism, why the eyes in the art were so big (windows to the soul, apparently, and more expressive than the mouth; having met a skeleton, Asteri felt inclined to agree), and a handful of popular Japanese foods.

She had also indulged Alphys by shifting into her best approximation of a few of the characters the younger woman had shown her pictures of. Alphys had squealed so loudly the first time that Asteri was surprised it didn’t wake Dr. Gaster. She decided to pass on the opportunity to make a joke about sleeping like the dead, given that she wasn’t actually sure on the origin of skeletons monsters, but had heard enough rumors to realize it probably wasn’t in good taste.

“So, on the surface, there’s enough water in one place to completely separate an entire society from another?”

“Y-Yeah! I can’t even- I can’t even imagine. I wonder if the ocean is like the lakes down here…”

Asteri made a face. “Which lakes, the glowing ones? Because if it glows and it’s that big, it would be so bright at night.”

Alphys hummed pensively, trying to recall whether the ocean had ever glowed in any anime she’d seen. “I don’t… think it does? The water that glows here does that because, uh, b-because of microorganisms, partly, b-but mainly all the leftover magic from us monsters. The same with a lot of- of the crystal formations. Th-That’s why the water in the dump doesn’t glow much; it’s coming right from the surface. I don’t think, um, very much stuff on the surface glows at all, actually. E-Except like lights a-and stuff.”

“Hmm, so no glowing oceans then… Wait, hold on. Are you saying that the water and stuff here glows because of dead people?”

“WHA-?! N-NO! I-It’s j-just ambient leftover magic, l-like from when bullets d-dissipate, or f-fire magic! Monsters t-turn to dust when they die, e-everybody knows that!”

“Right, but what’s the dust, if we’re made of magic, and magic dissipates over time?”

Alphys blinked. “W-Well, we’re actually just mostly made of magic, there’s a little bit of ph-physical matter, so— Oh my god.”

Asteri raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe the water does glow because of dead people.”

The horrified look on Alphys’ face made Asteri snort. “Well, if that’s the case, if the dust is the physical stuff, but our magic just kinda evaporates into the atmosphere and that’s the majority of the ambient magic, then dead people are also why the crystals in the ceiling and mushrooms glow, right?”

“W-Well the mushrooms… have some natural bioluminescence, I think, but… y-yeah,” Alphys answered weakly.

“Then…” Asteri smiled, lopsided but sincere. “Then isn’t it kind of nice that everyone we’ve ever lost is still around us, still with us? Even in the “stars”?”

Alphys stared, mulling that over. Then, she slowly broke into a smile. “Y… Yeah. Yeah, that is kind of a nice thought.”

Asteri shrugged her wings. “I mean, I’m not a biologist. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s kind of what I like to believe.” She looked up at the ceiling of her house, as if seeing past it to the ceiling of the cave beyond it, and all the crystals embedded within.

“I-I’m going to ask about that, now. Th-There’s a few biology majors I share c-classes with.”

“Let me know if I’m right,” Asteri hummed. “But if I’m not, don’t say anything. Unless the truth is even nicer, somehow.”

“O-Okay! Will, um! Will do!”

The conversation returned to lighter things for a short while, until they heard a groan from the other room, followed by what might have been some sort of confused mumbling, then a soft thud. Both women rushed into the living room.

“D-Dr. Gaster! Are you okay??”

“Mmmmnnnghh…”

Alphys cringed slightly. “U-Um, we’re at Asteri’s house, remember?”

“Yeah, I should have left a lamp on in here,” Asteri apologized, wincing. “My bad.”

A couple seconds of almost tangible disorientation went by, then blue, slightly glowing hands appeared. “Since when are you on a first-name basis with Ms. Asteri? …And what day is it?”

Asteri chuckled as she found the light switch and flipped it on with her tail. “It’s the same—“

“You’ve been asleep for TH-THREE DAYS, sir!” Alphys flat out lied, doing a remarkably good job at sounding equally panicked and frustrated. “This is w-why you’ve GOT to take better care of yourself! W-We’ve all been so worried!”

Dr. Gaster immediately scrambled to his feet, eyelights flaring with yellow and purple as he gasped in abject horror. “It’s been WHAT?!”

“It has not been three days, it’s been a few hours,” Asteri corrected, sounding somehow both chiding and amused.

Alphys giggled behind her hands. She looked only a little remorseful.

His eyes faded back to normal. “Alphys…”

“T-To be fair, sir, I wouldn’t have been able to do that if you just slept every night.”

His cheekbones practically glowed red. Even so, he didn’t seem about to back down. “Every night?! That hardly gives me any time to work!”

“How about every other night, then?” Asteri offered. Both scientists looked to her like they had forgotten she was there.

“That does seem m-much more reasonable than what you do now,” agreed Alphys.

The skeleton crossed his arms, like he was sulking, and used the blue hands to sign instead. “I will consider it…”

“By the way, you’re welcome to call me by name as well, Doctor,” Asteri commented, recalling his waking question. “Just Asteri is fine.”

Though a bit taken aback at first, he soon broke into a smile, attempt at sulking already forgotten. “Just Asteri… In that case, please feel free to forego the honorifics on my part as well.”

She tilted her head. “Just call you… Gaster?”

He nodded. “I have told Alphys that she is free to do the same, but she insists. Some of the others at the laboratory do as well, but there is really no need for such formality. They know who I am.”

“I-It’s a respect thing, Doctor,” insisted Alphys.

He frowned slightly and blew air through his nasal cavity. “I don’t need my colleagues to call me “Doctor” to know that they respect me. Actions are far more important than words.”

Asteri smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Bold words coming from a man standing in a linguist’s living room.”

Gaster’s eyelights disappeared. If an exclamation point could be a facial expression, he would have had it right then. Alphys laughed into her hands. “She’s got you there, sir.”

“I meant—” He tried to backpedal. “Ms. Asteri, I meant no disrespect to your work! In the context—”

“Hey. Hey, relax. I’m teasing you,” Asteri cut in gently. “I’m not offended. I know what you meant.” His eyelights flickered back into existence. She smiled softly. “Sorry, I should probably go easy on that until we know each other better. I’ve been caught up talking to Alphys, so my tongue is a little sharp from the banter.”

“Oh.” He blinked, then slowly returned her smile. It was more grounded. The way he had smiled earlier today was excitable, like unraveling string, pulled taut and fraying. (Likely because earlier, he hadn’t slept yet.) But now it was softer. “I am relieved. I don’t mind the teasing, sometimes it just takes me a while to get the sense of it.”

“Having just woken up probably doesn’t help. But uh, about what you were saying before, I get it. About not wanting the people you work with to use titles. Words have power. So sometimes, it’s better to forego certain ones. They can be a shield, and if you want familiarity with someone, you can’t have a shield between you.”

“Yes.” Gaster straightened. “Yes! Exactly! That is exactly what I meant! How can we be fa— friends if they feel the need to restate their distance in every other sentence?”

Asteri didn’t miss the way he almost signed “family” instead of “friends,” and she doubted the younger scientist missed it either.

Alphys’ eyes widened at what he said. Evidently, she hadn’t realized he felt that way. “D-Dr. Gaster…” He looked to her, and she must have realized that she just called him “Doctor” again despite everything, because she flushed slightly. “Uh! I-If it’s— I mean, um, f-for me…” She shuffled closer and took a deep breath. “Y-You’re so nice to me! And! E-Ever since m-my dad… f-fell down, I-I’ve really missed talking with him. He always… always supported me. I used to, um, tell him about- about this kind of stuff. E-Engineering, and programming and…” She trailed off and shook her head, ignoring the way her eyes stung with the threat of tears. “H-He, um, he didn’t really get a lot of the m-more technical stuff, but he always l-listened. M-My mom was always busy, but-but he was s-so patient, and kind, a-and fun, and w-we were…”

She had kept trying to ignore the threatening tears, until it was too difficult and the emotion thickened her voice.

“We were really close,” was all she managed before her voice hitched, and she covered her mouth to swallow the feeling. “I-I’m sorry, th-this wasn’t supposed to turn into this!” She tried to hide it all with a laugh, and it did help her regain her composure some. “I-I-I didn’t mean to get a-all emotional, I just- I just wanted you to know that, u-um, I don’t k-keep calling you D-Doctor, and sir, b-because of… I-I’m not trying to, um…! It-It’s not that I…!” She swallowed the words she kept tripping over and screwed her eyes shut.

She took a deep breath.

“I-I can’t just call you Gaster b-because it’d be like calling my dad by his name!”

Alphys had her whole face covered with her hands. Gaster looked absolutely blown away. Asteri felt like she had just witnessed something extremely personal, but sensed that if she moved at all it would only draw attention to herself and make her presence more awkward.

Gaster stepped closer to the younger woman and gently set a hand on her shoulder. She peeked through her fingers, and he smiled at her, eyes full of hesitant warmth. “Alphys… You truly think of me like that?”

She nodded and glanced away, embarrassed.

But he beamed so brightly, so warmly, he looked like he might cry himself. His eyes burned green. “I have not had any family for a very, very long time. I have never wanted to overstep. But you are… like a daughter to me.”

They shared a meaningful look and then each made slight, unsure arm movements until they both managed to telegraph that the intention and desire for a hug was mutual. Alphys yelped slightly as she was pulled into it, evidently not expecting however it felt to hug a skeleton, but settled into it. Asteri smiled at the exchange. She had tried not to just stand there and watch, but it was difficult not to given the size of the room. It made sense why Alphys had had nothing but good to say about Gaster. Asteri didn’t doubt that it was all true, of course, but a young monster who was still grieving her father’s death, and subsequently found another father figure in her boss was bound to be a little biased. Not that this wasn’t absolutely tooth-rottingly sweet.

She glanced at the nearest clock. It was almost 8:00PM. Surely they were hungry; she certainly was. She and Alphys had only had a handful of snacks, they had been so busy talking. So while the two scientists hugged it out, Asteri slipped back into the kitchen and rummaged through her pantry and refrigerator to assess what she could make quickly. Gah, she really should have realized the time sooner. A box in her freezer caught her attention. Oh, that would work.

As she busied herself with dinner, she thought about her conversation with Alphys earlier about whether or not “the water glows because of dead people” and winced. Whoops. But… Alphys had seemed to appreciate her take on their loved ones who had died still being with them in the crystals and ceiling stars, and, yes, the glowing lakes.

She wondered how many people Gaster had lost.

A few minutes later, Alphys and Gaster stepped through the doorway into the kitchen, smiling. Asteri turned to greet them, but Alphys spoke first.

“Asteri I’m, um, I-I’m sorry… f-for almost crying in your living room. I didn’t- I-I didn’t mean to… do that.”

The shapeshifter turned and offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t sweat it, Alphys. It seems like you guys had a… good talk?”

They both nodded.

“You have been more than accommodating, Mi—” Gaster stopped halfway through signing “miss” and corrected himself. “Asteri. You tolerated me making a fool of myself multiple times, invited us to your home, made us tea, let me sleep on your sofa for—“ He checked the time— “almost six hours, and led me to having a touching conversation with Alphys. …Also in your living room. I cannot overstate my gratitude for your hospitality.”

Asteri smiled, a little shyly, and shrugged one wing, trying to be casual as she moved about the kitchen. Here went nothing. “Well, hey… what are friends for?”

His eyes widened, flashing pink. He went from surprised to touched instantly. “You would consider me a friend after everything?”

Her face warmed, just a bit, tail flicking slowly back and forth against the floor. “If you’d like to be.”

There was no misinterpreting a smile like that. “I’d be honored.”

She laughed, turning to rinse something off in the sink. “I don’t know if I can live up to being an “honor” to be friends with, but I’ll do my best.”

“Y-You’ll have to get better about sleeping if you’re going to start spending time with other people, you know,” Alphys murmured as she elbowed him. He chuckled guiltily.

“It seems so… Speaking of which, I am sure we have more than worn out our welcome. We should be on our way.”

Asteri turned all the way to face them and gestured behind her. “At least eat first. Please. I’ve got dinner in the oven, it’ll be done soon. I’m not going to make you two walk all the way back to the capital on empty stomachs.”

“Well, technically speaking,” Gaster began with a grin. Alphys groaned. “…My stomach is always empty.”

Asteri snorted a laugh. “You know what I meant. Sit, I’ll get the rest of that sea tea. It will be plenty cold by now.”

They did as asked, and made small talk as she finished cleaning up a few things.

“So, um, what are you making?” Alphys inquired.

“Just pizza. I had a frozen one. It’s just vegetables, I hope that’s alright.”

“Th-That’s fine with me!”

“Same here.”

As she pulled it out of the oven and set about cutting it, she started to wonder how, exactly, Gaster ate. Obviously with magic— monsters with less solid forms absorbed the food right after swallowing rather than have it go down their throat and into their stomach— not unlike herself. Sometimes her neck wasn’t even attached to her head or body. And her torso was in at least two separate pieces most of the time, more often it was in three. But how did Gaster even get to the swallowing step? She had never seen him open his mouth, even at the donut shop. It was like she happened to be looking away every time he took a bite. This time she was going to pay attention.

She dished up the pizza onto plates and handed it out, passing each plate to the table one at a time as her tail spanned the distance between there and where she stood at the counter. Once that was set, she finally sat down. Unlike when cooking with fire magic, the oven made food too hot to eat right away, so they had to wait. The anticipation was killing her. But they made conversation in the meantime.

“Now that everything has gotten sorted out,” Asteri began, looking to Gaster, “do you want to plan to get together again sometime? That way there’s no, uh… misunderstanding phone calls or the lack thereof?” She rubbed the back of her head guiltily with her wing.

“I would like that.”

“Maybe somewhere between here and New Home? That way neither of us have to travel the entire way.”

“I do most of my work at the CORE, or the laboratory in Hotland, so visiting Waterfall is no issue. I only ever go to the capital to meet with the king, or buy donuts,” Gaster explained.

Asteri and Alphys both gave him a look.

He looked back and forth between them and tugged at his collar. “And other… meals.”

“And to go home?” Alphys prompted.

Gaster’s cheekbones flushed with magic. “Yes, yes of course! Obviously that!”

“I am more than happy to meet wherever if it means not repeating whatever sleep deprivation led to you almost passing out at my kitchen table,” Asteri intoned.

He got even redder. “I… will endeavor to get more sleep. For the sake of friendship.”

She smiled contentedly. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

Alphys had started eating, so the pizza must have cooled off enough. Asteri took a tentative bite. Yes, perfect. In her peripheral, she saw Gaster move to pick his pizza up. Immediately, her eyes flicked up to watch whatever happened next.

…And then Alphys started coughing, which involuntary drew her gaze away. The other woman was fine, her sea tea just went “down the wrong tube,” fortunately. But when Asteri looked back to Gaster, his slice of pizza was all but gone.

Oh go figure.

She gave up after that. It didn’t really matter, and she was sure she would see him eat eventually. Just not tonight, apparently.

They set up a day and time to meet again. Alphys had her classes, but they hoped to include her another time. They also established that texting was likely the way to go for future communication, in order to eliminate Gaster needing someone to talk for him. With everything worked out, they finished dinner and Asteri bid the two of them farewell. She wished Alphys the best in her classes, and told Gaster to get some sleep, with the promise of meeting again in Hotland the following week. And then they were off, and that was that.

Now, after a pleasant but still long, emotionally draining day, Asteri could just rest. She was exhausted. Under the covers, she let the events of the day replay. The misunderstandings, especially, stood out, and she mentally patted herself on the back for getting through it all. Things like miscommunications were difficult, and required a lot of mental presence and fortitude to endure setting straight. If it weren’t for her parents, she would never have made it to this point in life. She missed them, but she thought of the comforting feeling of their magic around her and how she swore she felt it reflected in the stars that surrounded her here. She was grateful to her parents for many things, but today, she was especially grateful that they had inspired her to have so much

PERSEVERANCE

- - - -

NOTES:

HAHA YEEEEAAAAH, PERSEVERANCE! BET YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING! Bet you thought it was gonna be kindness, with all the green. HEEHEEHEE

Anyway, yeah, several things here will come back later. ALSO I’M SO GLAD THE NAME THING IS OUT OF THE WAY, it was killing me to keep writing “Dr. Gaster” in the narration.

The part with Alphys’, uh, thing with Gaster and her dad just sort of. Happened. Also I copped out on the pizza scene because I realized a way better point in the story for Asteri to see how he eats. Heheh. But yeah, no, I know the end is rushed, but I am SO TIRED, and I wanted to get this finished tonight, so… yeah. I’m getting a bowl of ice cream and then going to bed, it’s 12:30.

Oh also Asteri almost said “bone” at the beginning, that’s why she cut herself off and said “sleep with” instead, lol

#⁂ fic #Asteri backstory #gaster #⁂ gaster #seeker oc #asteri #seeker writes #*screams* #im so excited for where this story is going you guys don’t even know #long post #⁂

[sirlordevil]

🙈 (ignore how late this is please)

The worst thing I've ever seen? I've seen so many terrible things and yet I can pick one out so quickly and easily it almost astounds me.

I watched him die and there was nothing I could do about it...

The blood pouring from his stomach... The shredded shirt and skin... The torn apart flesh.. the organs... bones... so much blood....and worst of all his eyes. His eyes growing dimmer, losing the bright glow of life as the color in his face drained. It was all almost as if as to taunt me. To rub it in that he was going to die. As if to show me how powerless we both were. His hand slumping down and his body, usually full of bounce and energy, growing still. I couldn't even scream when I looked at him... I couldn't.

Then seeing that wretched woman with his child, our child. Her face made my stomach sway with the way he looked at him. Her nose scrunched up in what seemed to be disgust and the way she looked up at me. Her deep blue eyes full of a sick delight, her lips quirking up in a grin. I see that face in my nightmares the same way every time. Smiling, blurring as she darts out of the window. Always just out of my reach.

That smile....oh how I could cut her lips into a frown after that smile...

After I had repressed that memory it would surface in small flicks...

I would see his eyes losing life shifting so suddenly into that wretched woman with her wretched smile. I would see his impaled corpse and try to wake myself up. "It's not real! Wake up it's just a dream!" But I couldn't wake up, so I'd stand there staring as the blood kept spreading across the floor and a baby's shrill cries echoed in my ears.

I can't ever unsee it. For weeks after it occurred, each time I'd blink I'd see it play out in flashes. At the funeral I felt my stomach twist at the sight of him. They say they look like they're sleeping but... they just look dead... I know how he looked sleeping. Hair tossed about, drooling, limbs snaked out taking up room anywhere they could. Him in a suit so still, so so still, laying face up arms over his chest conservatively was just dead. I gave a speech and after...I cried...I cried so hard I puked. And I stayed indoors and each time I saw the kitchen, floor still stained from his blood, the pit of my stomach would sink. I'd see it. I'd see it over and over again until I lost my mind.

There was no more light in the world so I turned to the dark.

#ask game #((i meant to answer this but then I totally forgot and then i saw it and then wrote all this angsty crap down)) #cw: gore #cw: death

[sirthisisa-wendys]

His Partner (Part 1): Keizo Arashi x Fem!Reader

synopsis: no one dares touch Redcliff's girl. he's the only one who has permission.

wc: 926

tw: angst

masterlist

You hear him before you see him.

Big, clomping footsteps paired with long strides - you'd know the sound of his arrival anywhere. Especially here, in the brothel.

There's a pause at your door, and you look up from the mountain of paperwork to watch the door creak, maybe. To watch him stride in and take claim to his domain once more. But all you're met with is a timid knock. Odd.

"Come in," you mutter just loud enough for him to hear outside of the door, then return your eyes to the papers, pen poised to initial on the documents. The door opens slowly, and you catch his scent - which always preceded him - before you see his shoes step through the door. You try not lose yourself in the smell of expensive cologne, focusing on the blurring words in front of you with extreme concentration. "Wonderful of you to stop by, Redcliff."

"I got your message." You drop the pen in exasperation and look up at him, noting the out-of-place look he's giving you. Why the hesitation now? Wasn't this where he showed his strength, his dominion?

"I need you to sign the lease renewal and the checks for the previous month's utilities." Keizo nods, standing in front of your desk with his hands stuffed in his bomber jacket pockets. "Is it cold in here?" You wonder, standing up from your seat and moving to the thermostat.

"No," he answers quickly, walking closer to the desk. "It's fine."

"Good," you quip, turning the heat down. "The girls complain about the temperature all the time." You take another look at the man, his ice blue eyes looking at you intently. "What?"

His lips quirk at your snapped remark. "The papers?" Your feet carry you back to your desk and you quickly push the items over to him, sliding the cheap pen across the space before turning to your computer.

"Backdate the checks." He bends over to take the pen in his massive hands. You clench your mouse a little tighter.

"You're upset."

"No," you answer. "Not at all."

"You're being short with me."

"I just need you to keep your end of the business running."

"Well," Keizo sighs. "I'm here now."

"Three months too late," you grunt, typing away at an email before sending it off. Keizo's since stopped signing.

"It's been that long?" You turn your head toward him, a scowl marring your features. Keizo looks at you with empty eyes, and your skin bristles.

"Do you not know how long you spend away from this place?" you inquire nastily. "Three months and we've been festering without your presence."

"I thought you had control--"

"To a point," you gripe, gripping the armrests of the seat as you sit back in the office chair. "I can't fight off the men who come and harass the girls every single time." Keizo's face screws up in confusion. "Of course, you didn't know. You only show up when it suits you to fuck and leave."

"I'm here now," he repeats, but this time it sounds hollow, almost like he doesn't believe it himself.

"Just finish signing so you can disappear like always and leave me to do the dirty work."

"I'll send more guys to guard the place," Keizo murmurs, dropping the pen back down on the desk. "I'm sure that'll help with some of the issues."

"And can you be on time with the rent?" you add, defeated.

"You need to start paying those bills online," he retorts, straightening up.

"I'm not going to do that. You know people can hack into--"

"It's the business bank account--"

"You can't seriously think that shit is sec--"

"And a check in the mail is? Come on, y/n--"

"Everything okay in here?" you both hear, watching a blonde head peek past the doorframe.

"We're fine," you both say at the same time, suddenly realizing how loud you'd gotten. The door shuts once more and you sigh, slumping in the chair.

"What's this really about?" Keizo whispers, leaning a bit closer to the desk. "You haven't been sleeping well. And my absence has never really... bothered you. You keep busy while I'm away, I'm sure. What's different this time?"

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you scoff. Keizo points at the half-empty prescription bottle on the nighttable in the corner of the room, near your bed. You look away and shrug.

"Talk to me." Keizo reaches out to turn your chin toward him, and you shiver. He looks so earnest, so concerned... "Whatever you have to say, I can take it." You try to hold back the flood of emotion, but it comes out in a rush.

"Last time you were here, you left me alone. You didn't even say goodbye, you just up and left and--" You almost choke on your words. "I felt so used, so discarded, and you didn't even... I felt like a cheap whore."

"You're not a whore," Keizo murmurs, shaking his head. You swallow hard as he walks around the desk, crouching down to look you in the eye and holding your hands in his. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I thought would be easier - that you preferred it that way - but I see I was wrong." You nod, and he stands up, holding your chin in his palm. "That's my girl. All you needed was for me to show up, huh?" You nod again, and he smirks. "Don't worry, babe. I'll make things right."

#arashi keizo x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #keizo arashi x reader #keizo arashi #tokyorev smut #keizo arashi smut

[babblydrabbly]

all-nighter || eddie munson x reader || oneshot

a/n: requested by @a-reader-and-a-writer. My first Eddie fic! As much as a adore confident Eddie, I'm a puddle for a that little sliver of self-doubt that takes over too. no season 4 spoilers!

eddie munson x gn!reader - fluff - 1.2k words - warnings: first kiss. briefest mention of drug use.

"Person A and B staying up way too late watching a movie/binge watching a show but having no regrets" 

[ I do not give permission to repost my work anywhere. ]

You don't care about small town reputations. Not when you've been smitten with Eddie Munson since you met him outside an away-game sophomore year. But he'll figure it out.

Eddie stirs when morning light finally breaches the thin blinds of his living room. He swipes at his eyes and begins to sit up, when a solid weight stops him. 

It’s a familiar situation. Eddie Munson has spent plenty of all-nighters in front of his small television instead of getting some proper rest; has almost made a whole high school career out of it, in fact. His limbs are a little sore from his position on the threadbare couch. And the rough material of his baggy jeans scratches as he shifts carefully- incrementally.

You murmur in your sleep. Half on the other side of the sunken couch and half atop Eddie, your arms wrap around his middle as you unconsciously press your face against his t-shirt covered stomach.

Eddie blinks, confused at this slight deviation, then he remembers the night before. 

It had been one monster movie. Then two. Then you both got a little hungry and went out to grab a slice of pizza. 

Eddie half expected you to call it quits when you tossed your greasy napkins and sticky trays in the trash. Instead, he watched you walk backwards toward his van with a smile, curling a mischievous finger to beckon him.

He hustled after you without any fuss. Just a wide, toothy grin. You weren’t sick of him just yet.

Eddie’s lips quirk again at the memory. 

You had made yourself look right at home on the cushion beside him as he turned the tv back on, this time flipping through the static until he landed on a rerun of Growing Pains. You slipped off your sandals and tucked your feet under yourself coyly. 

The mood had shifted then. This wasn’t a rowdy, fantasy-driven game night. Nothing like the band stopping by to turn up the rock and fill his living room with the dense curl of smoke and conversation.

The din Eddie chose to drown out any reminders of his less-than life was replaced by a new, unspoken conversation. An exchange of soft quips and fleeting glances that made him suddenly feel noticed. Eddie glanced over, drawing your attention away from the blue light of the television.

Full of good food and more comfortable with your second time stepping inside Eddie’s home, you scooched closer, sending the teen’s heart rate skyrocketing. 

It was one thing to get along with you out there- at the mall, at each other’s schools. Always in passing. Always in front of friends and decidedly not-friends. But with just the two of you, the abnormally over-confident Eddie Munson’s eyes flickered over to you, his expression a touch sheepish then. 

You make a sound in your sleep again, waking yourself up. The arms around Eddie’s waist flex as you nuzzle at the soft cotton of his shirt. 

He’s got the perfect combination going on in the middle- a little soft and a little firm. You burrow your nose against him as you exhale deeply.

“What time is it?” You drawl. And Eddie half-wishes he got to see you looking so peaceful just a moment longer. He reaches up to brush your hair back behind your ear. He shrugs.

“Don’t know.” He chuckles. 

“Jeeze.” You pull away to sit up stiffly- still tucked partially against Eddie’s lap. “My neck is killing me.”

“I’m the one that can’t feel my legs.” He teases. You blink and realize how on top of him you really are. Heat rises to your cheeks. 

Before you can scoot off, Eddie’s arms wrap around you swiftly, that wide grin returning to his face. Tsking and squirming, you shift until he has you tightly in his arms. He’s surprisingly strong. Perhaps from never putting down that electric guitar of his. Eddie’s callous fingers press into your soft skin, and a different kind of heat pools inside you. 

“Uh uh.” He chides, emboldened now. “Not yet.” 

His lips press against your neck as he speaks. You let out a soft noise of surprise as he pulls you back down to properly lie on his chest. Face inches apart, your eyes flit up to his mouth as he stares back at you, waiting. 

“I have to buy the groceries every Saturday morning.” You try. Your weak excuse makes the two of you laugh. “I should at least call my mom.”

“Let that dumb brother of yours run the errands for once.” Eddie counters. You’ve complained enough to Eddie about how much is expected of you at home. You roll your eyes. Reaching up, you drag some strands of his curly bangs down to obscure his view. “What?? You said it yourself. How much basketball practice does this guy need if he’s sooo good.”

You snort as you watch Eddie comically try to blow the fringe from his eyes without letting you go with his hands.

“Come with me.” You offer.

Eddie stills. The thought of you willingly pushing a shopping cart around in the middle of a supermarket with him in tow just doesn’t seem to click. Not even if you lived a whole town over from good ole Hawkins. Not when he was Eddie The Freak Munson any way you sliced it. Averting his eyes, he brushes it off. “How about I pick you up again tonight?”

You take Eddie’s chin between your fingers and look into his brown eyes. You catch a flash of something guarded there for a moment. It’s all you need to lean in and plant a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. Eddie squeezes you firmer in response, eyes half-lidded. 

You mean it to be something brief. Something soft. But a thrill soon runs through you as Eddie tilts his head to the side and recaptures your lips with a quiet moan. Your knees bracketing Eddie’s thighs press together with a spark of want.

It takes everything to pull away- to catch your breath and open your eyes again. Eddie’s own pupils stare back at you, much wider now than they were a moment ago. 

“Come with me.” You say again. You give your eyelashes an over-exaggerated bat. That seems to coax the Eddie you know back out again with another chuckle. “Let’s go!”

Before you can drag him to his feet, however, he surprises you again by taking your face in both hands and pulling you in for another deep, languid kiss. This time with a swipe of his tongue teasing your mouth, licking slowly once, twice. You keen before you can help yourself. 

Pulling away hurriedly, you pat your hair back into place while he expectantly drags his nails lightly across your thigh. You ignore the way it sends jolts of electricity up your spine with every inch.

His wide smile matches yours. He was never going to say no, he realizes. Not when you’re asking him to stick around. To keep seeing him. 

He knows the time will come when you’re ready to toss him. But for now, the idea of one minute, one more meal, one more day with you is so bizarre, he can’t help but follow as you tug at his arm.

With one last moment of hesitation, Eddie’s chest heaves with a sigh. A mixed sound of relief and feigned exasperation.

 You smack his chest playfully. 

“Okay! Alright!” He laughs. “.....Five more minutes.”

“Eddie!”

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #mywords* #requests #reader

[flutteringfable]

so the 'get to know your character' questionnaire thingy... (cracking knuckles /lh)

1- fable & nagito

2- scara

4- kirishima/bakugou/kento

6- cael

8- venti

autism BLAST!! autism ATTACK!! >:D

1 - go-to drink order

fable ~ irl i really love sweet drinks! i think any of my self inserts’ go-to would be either honey milk tea with tapioca or warm vanilla black tea with lots of sugar and milk!

nagito ~ sharply contrasting me, he doesn’t like sweet stuff very much. he canonically likes anti-energy drinks (i guess thats what theyre called?) but i think he would like plain green tea a lot. maybe with a little honey?

2 - grooming routine

scara ~ i think even before he has a more chill domestic life as wanderer, he’s pretty neat and likes to stay clean. i always think of him with doll joints so i imagine he always has to scrub around his elbows, chest, knees, etc more than anywhere else because dirt probably gets built up there. this might just be me projecting but i think he tends to feel gross pretty quickly even after a thorough bath (like, the next day, if he ends up getting too hot during the night, etc). i don’t think his hair would get tangled easily, but he likes to brush it a lot. he’s constantly fighting static electricity to keep his hair flat lmaooo. he doesn’t rly need to sleep but he always feels more at ease when he has the chance for some self care after a long day.

4 - scars/tattoos?

ohhh boy. this one will defs be the longest one XD

all of them have scars from each other (bites, cuts, and burns respectively), and kiri and kento have stretch marks from their own quirks.

i don’t wanna drop manga spoilers so some of the headcanons for bakugou i can’t say quite yet lolz. i think he probably has burns from his own quirk, and ive always enjoyed the headcanon that he has a semi-permanent line over his nose where his mask sits. i think he would absolutely have some tattoos, as well. obvs he has an all might one, it’s probably something small on his shoulder or back, and i also really love the idea of him having tattoos of kiri and kento’s logos too (maybe near his heart because cute).

i have a headcanon that kiri’s skin breaks slightly in some places when he uses his unbreakable form for the first few times, so he has some almost invisible lines all over him where the breaks have healed. there’s obviously the canonical scar over his right eye, where he accidentally cut himself when his quirk first developed, too. his scars are fewer and less intense than bakugou’s and kento’s because of his quirk, but he has a major one on his shoulder where bakugou grabbed him during a spar. i don’t think he would have a lot of tattoos, but the idea of him with a crimson riot one is really cute to think about.

kento. where to begin with this guy. i think when he initially escapes the lab he has a lot of bruises that last a lengthy amount of time, but those do eventually heal. the fireballs he can summon with his quirk left burns on him when he was still getting used to the powers. he has a tattoo of the number ‘014’ on his right wrist (his experiment number), but later on i think he would have lots of pretty and intricate tattoos. he seems like the type to have the spiderweb neck/shoulder tattoo thing, and maybe a half sleeve of roses? idrk what specific ones i want him to have, but i think he would have a lot of really pretty ones.

6 - oldest/middle/youngest/only child?

cael is an only child with older child energy. i think it would be super sweet if he used his cafe as a safe space for others, where he meets other trans people and offers all the support he can. local trans guy takin care of his family yk <3

8 - place where they sleep

i think that most frequently, venti sleeps in the windrise tree. he brings blankets and pillows to the place in the center where the tree disperses into limbs, and makes a sort of nest. during naps he usually sleeps without all the cushioning, but he likes bundling up and being surrounded in soft things. the breeze is usually stronger around windrise, but the tree acts as a buffer so it doesn’t disturb him or make it too cold. he probably does have a house somewhere, but he much prefers to sleep in the open and feel the wind around him.

#fable answers 💫 #kenribaku #kento sasaki #oc x canon #bnha oc #venti the bard #scaramouche genshin impact #nagito komaeda #genshin oc #cael osman

[zaewriteshere]

Guardian of the Protocol

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A few days went by since that event, and it brought you to this situation where…

You couldn’t sleep.

The fact that the Hive was here was keeping you awake… And the prospect of coming home.

So, instead of sleeping, you meditated in the lounge area, finding comfort in this familiar place. 

Though, despite all the serenity you could muster, your meditations didn’t really work as well, if at all.

You were too troubled by the recent events.

You could almost hear Ikora’s voice, telling you about her stories and experiences, and what she learned from it. She was the wisest person you’ve ever known, and you really looked up to her. 

She was the best warlock you’ve heard of, and her title of Warlock Vanguard – the role overlooking every warlock and leading them – was well earned.

Despite being your superior – and by a long shot – you felt… Like you were very good acquaintances, maybe even friends, with her.

Though, you would never admit it, especially to her. 

Would you ever want to come back home ? If you were honest-

You heard a footstep, which immediately snapped you back into reality. Summoning your grenade, you held it in your right hand, ready to throw at the intruder.

Wait, you recognised that silhouette…

“Ryo ?” You questioned in disbelief, dismissing your nade. “You scared me – why are you still awake ?” You continued, lowering your guard.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He answered, stepping into the light so you could see him.

He was looking bothered by something, but that wasn’t his “I am annoyed” expression, it was more… Anxious ? Doubtful ?

“Are you okay ?” You tentatively asked, worried. 

“Are you going to answer my question ?” He replied, not answering yours, again. 

Okay, this wasn’t really going anywhere, so you decided to open up first, sitting down on a couch nearby.

“I… I just, I don’t know. The fact that the Hive can be arriving here at any moment is… It concerns me. Not only that, if there’s a way in, there’s a way out,” You blurted out. This entire can of worms was hard to deal with.

Silence met you, and you glanced at your friend, who’s thin lips were shut, his brows furrowed.

It made your lips quirk up, just for a quick second.

“Those ‘Hives’,” He started, after another long minute of silence. “They are… From your world, right ?” He observed you out of the corner of his eyes. As you nodded, he fell silent once again. “Are you going to go back there ?” He questioned, hesitant. 

You thought about your answer carefully, especially when you realised that you didn’t have one immediately. Bringing your knees to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your leg and looked in the distance.

“I don’t know,” Was all that you were sure of, at this moment. 

It was scary, to not know if you wanted to come back to what you considered your home.

You didn’t want to think about it.

But you knew you had to, at some point. 

Maybe the best time was now, in the middle of the night, with the company of what you considered your best friend.

“What would you do ?” He turned to you with an interrogating glance. “If you were in my shoes, right now ?” Ryo seemed taken off guard by this question, if you could trust his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“I would ask myself what I consider home, I guess,” He answered after a moment, breaking eye contact.

There was something he wasn’t telling you.

“You’re hiding something from me,” You stated. He snapped back at you, taken aback by the confidence in your tone.

“What makes you say that, weirdo ?” He exclaimed, a bit too loud for both of your comfort… And probably the one of everyone else at HQ. He closed his mouth immediately after realising. 

“I’ve known you long enough to be able to read you, Ryo,” You started. “You’re always acting like this when there’s something bothering you,” You studied his face and its expressions, having to look up seeing as you were the only one sitting. His mask broke, ever so slightly. 

He looked… Defeated ?

“When will you be going back ?” He muttered, so low you barely caught it, as if scared to say it too loudly.

You were taken aback by the question.

Was that what worried him ?

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully, though you knew that wasn’t satisfying. “Probably once we make sure that the portal cannot be re-opened anymore ?” You thought out loud, hugging your legs a bit more tightly.

He didn’t express any signs of acknowledgement at first, as he sat down next to you, like he needed to process the information before doing anything else. After a while, he simply nodded.

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’ll still be here.

But you couldn’t genuinely do that, especially without lying.

Because you didn’t know.

So instead, you chose to tell him the truth : 

“Ryo,” You called him, and he turned his attention to you. “For now, I am not going anywhere, and that’s for sure. So, let’s enjoy our time together while I’m still here, okay ?” You smiled gently at him. 

For the first time, he returned that smile, way smaller, but genuine.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks warm up ever so slightly.

The dim lights of the HQ were faintly shining on him, making his features softer, erasing the hardness it tended to have.

“Alright,” He agreed, his smirk widening ever so slightly.

You could only nod, not trusting your voice.

You realised you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and so the two of you just looked at each other for who knew how long. 

You didn’t complain, though.

You enjoyed this little sense of privacy, as if there wasn’t anyone else in the world but the two of you. 

You felt at peace, and even… At home ?

You tried to ignore the latter, it was too early to make your final decision. You were just putting the thought into the backburner for it to cook. 

As Yoru suppressed a yawn, you said : 

“You should go to sleep.”

“Will you ?” He retorted, studying you for any lies. You shrugged.

“I don’t know, I’m not tired,” You replied honestly. “You sound exhausted, though,” You continued, worried.

“I’m fine,” He replied, scowling.

You decided to drop it. 

You didn’t mind spending more time with him, not at all.

Scooting closer to him, you put your legs down and hesitantly put your head on his shoulder.

You felt him tense, but relaxed shortly after, and you felt the weight of his head on yours. 

You stayed like this, enjoying each other’s warmth.

You jumped when the lights suddenly came on, and you heard a chuckle. Turning to the source, you saw Ryo looking right back at you with a shit eating grin.

“You truly are a weirdo,” He stated, amused. You couldn’t hide the look of surprise, but before you could say anything, Cypher entered the scene. 

“Oh my, I didn’t expect to see any of you awake yet,” He said, taken aback, before realising something. “Did you even sleep ?”

You pointedly avoided his glance while you noticed your friend just staring blankly at him, as if his eye bags weren’t telling enough. 

“You didn’t, got it,” He chuckled, which made you smile. You really enjoyed Cypher’s little laugh, as creepy as others may say it was. “Alright, can I make something for the two of you ?” He asked, turning to the kitchen.

“Whatever he’s having,” You pointed to Ryo, who you were still leaning on. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Coffee,” He chose, mumbling his answer. Apparently it was loud enough for the other agent to hear it, since he nodded and disappeared into the cooking area. 

You relaxed once again, melting on Yoru’s shoulder. 

He didn’t seem to mind, however.

Cypher came back with the hot beverages, and you noticed that yours was done just how you liked it. 

You never told him how you drank coffee.

You guessed that was one of Cypher’s quirks, to always know mundane – and not so mundane – things about people, if you could trust what the other agents have told you.

Though, they’ve been warning you about Fade – Hazal, you remembered. Your friends have told you that she blackmailed the protocol before entering it, which was… So very Liam of them. 

Well, you knew where to ask if you wanted some dirt on people, but you weren’t exactly the type to need it.

You were more confrontative, preferring to tackle the problem intelligently but without any bullshit like blackmailing.

You took a sip of your drink, and smiled in delight.

Cypher’s drinks were always the best.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #x reader #gender neutral reader #valorant #yoru x reader #yoru x you #destiny 2 #gotp #long fic #slow burn

[sporadicthingcollection]

Did Irno have breatafeeding troubles with other kids? 🤔 Like with Win maybe better or same but with twins she might over produce as she had twins instead of one? 🤔

Oh, she'd definitely overproduce. Her body loves to spite her. Luckily, that's something that there will always be a demand for.

---

Bane is flipping an egg when Bambi slinks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and clutching his teddy bantha. Bane wonders if he should still be sleeping with a stuffy at his age, but there's probably no harm in it. Nothing wrong with soft, warm, fuzzy things.

"Mornin', boy," he says.

Bambi lets out a loud, tooka-like yawn. "G'mrrnll," he mumbles, setting the stuffy on the table.

Bane can't help but snicker. He got the worst of both worlds -- your compulsion to be up early, but Bane's slow start. It takes him a half an hour to be fully awake.

"I'm almost done here, if yer hungry," Bane says.

Bambi yawns again. "I'm just gunna have cereal."

Bane quirks a brow at his son. It's not like him to turn down hot food. "Feelin' alright?"

"Didn't sleep good," he murmurs. He pulls a box from the cupboard and takes a bowl from the drying rack. "What do you do when you just can't sleep?"

'Wake your mother up for a quick screw' is his first thought, but he keeps it to himself. "Get up. Stretch. Walk around. Check on de girls." He returns his attention to his egg, giving the yolk a poke. Almost done. "Den go back to bed an' cuddle yer momma."

He hears the clatter of pouring cereal. "Must be nice havin' someone to share a bed with."

The clattering continues, and Bane turns. Half of the box must be in that bowl, and it's not the healthy kind of cereal -- there's no way something called Sugar Crunchers is anywhere in the same star system as healthy.

"Dat's why ya can't sleep," Bane says. "All ya eat is sugar!"

Bambi wrinkles his rostrum. "Nuh-uh," he says. "I eat pasta, too!"

Bane had no idea if the boy is being a wiseass or if he's actually that dense. "You're gonna get fat, kid."

Bambi snorts. "You're one to talk, ol' man. Y'ain't exactly a twig right now."

Is he wrong? No, but Bane has got a good reason for the paunch he's sporting. Hormonal surge during a mate's pregnancy makes male Duros store fat so Mom can go hunt after the baby is born... Or that's how it was eons ago. Not much hunting happening on orbital cities, but biology is always slow to catch up.

He levels a finger at the boy. "Don't get fresh. I'm still faster'n you."

Bambi blinks, then mimes pulling a blaster. It's a game they've played since Bambi was knee-high to a blurrg. First one to say 'bang' wins. Both amusing and good training.

But Bane is wearing his gunbelt. He pulls his LL-30 and has it levelled before Bambi's even extended his trigger finger.

Bambi yelps and jumps so high that he falls out of his chair, landing on the ground with a thump. "Yer makin' breakfast at six in the mornin'! Why d'ya even have that on?!" he squeaks.

"In case I need to remind ya who yer daddy is." He twirls the blaster and slips it back into its holster. "Now shush before ya wake de girls up."

The boy mutters something about shoving cotton up Bane's blaster barrels as he clambers to his feet. He heads for the refrigerator as Bane turns to slide his egg onto the plate.

He does feel a bit bad for that stunt. But Bambi knows he'd never hurt him on purpose. And a little spooking every once in a while never hurt anyone.

"Any plans today?" he asks.

"Nuh-uh." The fridge opens and closes. "Mez wants me to help with her math homework, but that won't take long."

If Bambi was any other teenage boy, he'd know he was lying. But he's got a mind for math like Bane's never seen. The kid can calculate fuel costs, compound interest, and figure out how much to tip the waitress entirely in his head. He wonders if he and you made the wrong decision in pulling him out of school and not pushing him to be an accountant or something.

But then he remembers how miserable the poor boy was just in primary. Constantly forgetting assignments. Constantly being reprimanded for not listening. Constantly getting low marks in everything and being picked on for being Bimbo Bambi.

Faking a stomach ache. Begging him to let him stay home. Sobbing into his shoulder. Trembling like a pitiful little leaf. Day after day after day.

He thinks he made the right decision.

"Yer sister payin' ya fer yer services?" he asks.

"I never work for free." Liquid pours into the bowl. "Ten creds an hour."

Bane whistles. "Nice gig."

"It was thirty, but Momma made me give her the 'friends and family discount," he says, "but her friends are comin' over, too. They're payin' triple."

Bane grins to himself. Attaboy.

He switches the stove off and turns to join Bambi at the breakfast table, only to notice the empty glass bottle on the table and the cereal bowl full of liquid. Bambi is shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth like a starving man.

"Winrel," he says slowly. The use of his given name makes the boy pause, and he glances up at him. "Why'd ya put dat in yer cereal?"

"...'cause it's polkweed milk?" he says.

Bane turns the bottle around so that the label faces the boy. It used to be polkweed milk, but a piece of tape covers the label with writing in bold, black letters.

100% ALL-NATURAL ZELTRON BREAST MILK, it reads. PUMPED ON PRIMEDAY. SELL BY THE 5TH. DO NOT DRINK ME.

The blue drains out of Bambi's face. The spoon clatters to the ground as he vaults out of his seat.

He nearly crashes into the Little Lady as she pads through the doorway. She blinks at him, then at Bane.

"Is he okay?" she asks. "And are you okay?"

"Yep," he croaks. He glances down at his egg and his stomach churns a bit. He doesn't want to eat anymore. "Made ya breakfast."

Her little face lights up. "Thanks!"

She sits down to eat while Bane disposes of the cereal. Drain the liquid then the rest in the trash.

You poke your head through the doorway, your hair still in curlers.

"Cad, why's our son losing his mind in the 'fresher?" you ask flatly. He jabs his thumb at the bottle on the table, and you slump. "Bimbo Bambi?" you ask.

He nods. "Bimbo Bambi."

"I'll go calm him down," you say with a sigh. "Scramble me an egg?" He nods, and you depart.

It's a mean thing to call him and he'd never say it to his face, but damn if it doesn't sum that boy right up sometimes.

---

"Catch Us If You Can Masterpost" | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#cad bane #dad bane #cad bane x reader #catch us if you can #star wars #irno favara #thanks for the ask! #emberly writes

[whatstheproblembaby]

Fic: Getting a Grip

So uh...who wants some Turnadette smut? ~1900 words, part hurt/comfort, part filth.

Also on AO3.

“I can’t tell if this is more your Christmas present or mine,” Shelagh teased as they entered the house. “You’re happy to have your arm out of that wretched cast, of course-”

“But you’re happy you won’t have to chide me about potentially soaking it whenever I do so much as attempt to pour my own coffee,” Patrick said, finishing her thought fairly accurately. Shelagh watched as he swung his coat off unencumbered for the first time in weeks, matching smiles blooming across their faces. “I’m not sure I’ll ever take my freedom of motion for granted again. Or at least not for a few months.”

“That and your dexterity,” she said, hanging up her own coat and swapping her shoes for her house slippers. “I shudder to think what your handwriting’s going to look like on your next few prescriptions.”

“Can’t be any worse than the ones I tried to scribble out with my right hand!” Patrick followed her into the kitchen, where she reached for the kettle. Timothy had promised to pick the little ones up from school and take them out for the afternoon so Shelagh and Patrick could get his cast removal and introductory physiotherapy done without having to wrangle three children under the age of ten, and they had just enough time for a quick cup of tea alone before meeting their family for a celebratory dinner at Nonnatus. “Here, let me get that.”

Shelagh watched as her husband grabbed and filled the kettle, clearly enjoying having his dominant hand restored to him. He hadn’t bothered to roll his shirtsleeves down after their appointment at St. Cuthbert’s, and the sight of his forearm, paler than usual but still strong and capable, moved her to unexpected tears.

“Shelagh?” Patrick quickly set the kettle on the counter and gathered her in his arms. “Darling, what is it?”

“I’m being silly,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ve known you were going to recover perfectly well for ages, but you’re finally out of your cast and concussion-free, standing safely in our home-”

She broke off, unable to speak through her tears. Patrick tightened his hold around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I was so scared I was going to lose you that night,” Shelagh murmured eventually. “I’m sorry, I know you were actually on that train-”

“Don’t apologise.” She felt Patrick shift their stance so he could look her in the eyes before he continued. “You weren’t in the crash - and I thank my lucky stars daily for that - but I can only imagine how stressful that night was for you, Shelagh. Told your husband and dearest friend were unaccounted for, trying to perform triage on no sleep, worried about what to tell our small children at home. And then you get sent home with an injured husband, those three lively children, and an eldest still recovering from glandular fever. You’ve risen to the challenge like you always do - but I should have provided you with the opportunity to process your feelings far sooner than this.”

“Well, you did have concussion,” Shelagh said, one corner of her mouth quirking up even as she sniffled. She stepped back into his loose embrace, her hands trailing up his chest almost of their own accord. “You get some grace when you’ve suffered a head injury.”

“I don’t have concussion anymore,” Patrick said. His voice was low and fervent, and it made her toes curl. “Let me take care of you.”

In the space of a breath, he leaned down and kissed her thoroughly, his big hands hitching her hips up so there was no space between their bodies. A fire stoked low in her belly, and she gasped into his mouth.

He broke away and put his lips against her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed.

“I’m right here, Shelagh.”

There was a kiss to her temple.

“I came home to you.”

A kiss to her cheek.

“I would never go anywhere you couldn’t find me.”

To her other cheek.

“Of that, I am completely certain.”

At the echo of his long-ago words on the Columbia Road, she snapped, surging up on her toes and growling as she dragged him into another kiss. Her hands grasped the hair at his nape while his caressed her bottom, sending the flames from earlier crackling through her veins.

Shelagh tugged at Patrick’s hair once before scraping her nails gently over his scalp just the way he liked it, making him shiver and squeeze the curve of her ass.

“I have always been completely certain of you,” she said, mouth a hairsbreadth from his. “But I’m holding you to that promise not to leave me.”

“As long as that’s not the only part of me you’re holding,” Patrick wisecracked. He moved his mouth to her throat, trailing suckling kisses down to the neckline of her dress.

“Shouldn’t you be holding me?” Shelagh pointed out. Her tone was dry - or at least as close to dry as she was going to get in the moment - but she couldn’t keep from arching her neck and giving Patrick more access to the skin of her collarbone. “You were just prescribed strengthening exercises, after all.”

“Excellent point, my love.” Patrick shot her a saucy wink before scooping her up and depositing her on the counter, spreading her legs wide enough that he could stand between them. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my favourite nurse.”

He leaned in to kiss her, hands looping back to unzip her dress. When she felt it loosen at her waistline, she pulled free just long enough to remove her arms from the sleeves, not wanting her own mobility impeded.

“Now for the dexterity practice,” Patrick continued. He helped her wiggle out of the top half of her slip before reaching back to undo the clasp of her brassiere and pull it off of her in one fluid motion. “Your assessment, Nurse?”

“Full marks,” Shelagh said on a gasp, Patrick already lavishing attention on her breasts. Her head knocked against the upper cabinets as he alternately kissed and bit at her left breast, stimulating and soothing all at once. His left hand tweaked her other nipple, and she let out a soft ohhh of pleasure before reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

“Not yet,” he said, gently restraining her wrists. She couldn’t keep from frowning slightly, and he relented with a laugh. As he undid his own shirt, he continued, “I suppose fair is fair, but I said I was going to take care of you, remember? Ladies first.”

His shirt fell to the ground, followed shortly by her slippers.

“Well, if you insist,” Shelagh said as Patrick lifted her hips and pushed her dress down. She took care of her own stockings, figuring she may as well assist with the proceedings.

“That’s my girl,” Patrick rumbled. Her stockings, underwear, and garter belt joined the rest of her clothing on the floor, and for a long moment, Patrick just gazed at her bare body, devouring her with his eyes.

She couldn’t blame the responding goose bumps on the December chill.

He seized her mouth once more, left hand sinking into her hair as the other braced them against the counter, and she whined, wishing for more friction. With him between her legs, she couldn’t press her thighs together to soothe the growing ache in her core.

“Is this what you want?” Patrick teased, removing his hand from her hair to cup her mound. He pressed gently against her clitoris before grinding the heel of his hand in a lazy circle, and she moaned. “Or would you prefer…”

His index finger entered her, crooking forward to find her most sensitive place.

Shelagh couldn’t control the litany of sounds coming out of her throat. She clung to his shoulders, vision starting to go hazy as Patrick rediscovered her body and all the ways he could make her whimper, groan, and sigh.

“You’re never…allowed…to get another arm injury,” she informed him brokenly. “I can’t…can’t-”

“Shh, that’s it, darling,” Patrick said, kissing her again. “I know. You can let go now.”

Now three fingers deep, he bent them inside her and rubbed his thumb over her clit, and Shelagh did just as he said. When she regained awareness, she nuzzled her face into the jointure of Patrick’s neck and shoulder and squeezed her arms around his waist before dropping her hands to his belt.

“My turn,” she said, pushing all the clothing at his hips down. He stepped out of his shoes and socks before dragging her off the counter.

“Not here,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the settee. “I don’t want you smacking your head.”

“We’ve had enough injuries in this family for a while,” Shelagh agreed, laughing once. “I think we deserve a little tenderness, don’t you?”

With that, she pushed Patrick down, straddling his lap as he let out a surprised oof! Before he got his wits back about him, she cradled his face for a kiss and slowly, carefully took him inside of her.

“Shelagh,” he groaned, throwing his head back. She took the opportunity to kiss down his throat, circling her hips gently as she set an easy rhythm for their union. His hands settled more firmly at her waist.

“Oh, Patrick!” His support helped her take him a little deeper, furthering her own pleasure that much more. “Oh!”

“We can be tender later,” Patrick said, rolling his own hips. “For now, I want to show you how much I missed you.”

Shelagh increased her pace, keeping a close hold on his shoulders as he clutched her hips fiercely. She suspected she would have bruises there later, and though she would never admit it to anyone outside of the room, she relished the prospect.

Electricity crackled down Shelagh’s spine. “Patrick!”

“I’m close,” he said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “So close.”

She cried out with her second release, soaring high above the room. Patrick held her close before twisting to lay her flat on the settee, driving his hips inside her a few seconds more before he shuddered with his own climax.

“I missed this,” Shelagh said once they had both regained their breath, curled into Patrick’s side.

“We’ve never been able to be in the habit of making love on the settee,” Patrick said wryly, stroking her hair. “Or the kitchen.”

“Not these locations!” Shelagh playfully swatted at his arm. “I missed being able to be near you. Especially at night. We may have been able to keep sharing a bed, but with those pillows between us to keep you stable…I missed being in my husband’s arms.”

“I missed having you there,” Patrick said, drawing her closer. “Hopefully you’ll never have cause to leave my side again.”

Shelagh hummed in agreement, perfectly at ease. She felt herself slipping into sleep before a thought shattered her newfound peace.

“Dinner! The children!”

She almost tumbled off the settee as she and Patrick tried to get up and gather their clothing, hoping beyond hope they wouldn’t be unforgivably late. She suspected her hair would look like she had tried to re-pin it in a moving car (since, well, she had), but she couldn’t make herself regret it when Patrick’s newly freed hand slipped into hers as they walked up the front stairs at Nonnatus. She could weather being slightly disheveled if it meant her husband was hale, healthy, and, most importantly, hers.

#call the midwife #call the midwife fic #turnadette #turnadette fic #jen does words #g: smut #g: hurt/comfort #oh god i never write smut i hope you all enjoy this!!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

RESTORATION AND 18TH CENTURY LIT. - COLLEGE AU!TOMURA X READER

✧ pairing: college student!shigaraki x fem!reader | a little bit of shigadabi

✧ word count: 21.3k  | AO3 Mirror

✧ warnings: Shigaraki being an asshole, lowkey kinda hates women, fem reader only because he refers to her as female (derogatory) like once gender neutral pronouns for reader though the few times its used, Angst and Fluff and Smut Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, college au no quirks, dabi is a little shit, dirty talk, swearing, like so much, vaginal se, vaginal fingering, oral sex, virgin shigaraki, loss of virginity degradation, mentions of lactation kink, brief exhibitionism

✧ summary: He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch.And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. Fucking disgusting.

Or Tomura get's paired up with you for a big final project in some bullshit English class he needs to graduate and quickly discovers that he even though he kinda hates women, he hates you a little bit less. And also really wants to stick his dick in you.

✧ a/n: First off yes this is a repost. Second: Happy birthday to the best boy and happy birthday to this fic (and also this blog)! In celebration of all the occasions and because I didn’t have time for anything else, I’ve compiled the entire R18CL main series here in one place. It was the first real shigs fic I’ve written and still one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever done. I think you can tell how much my writing has improved just in this year from reading this, but I love it how it is, so enjoy~ And finally, it goes without saying, don’t fucking rec this anywhere else.

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates. 

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking clorox wiped down the seat before sitting. 

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with baited breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable. 

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Sent at 2:47 pm:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

---

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleep time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit afterall. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion. 

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin’ study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

---

Dabi’s mouth was wet and so fucking warm as he swallowed around Tomura’s dick. 

“Oh fuck…” he groaned as Dabi hummed around his length and did that thing where he flicked the ball of his tongue ring over Tomura’s slit. 

Bright blue eyes stared up through deceptively long lashes, smirking at the way Tomura drooled as he got his soul sucked out the tip of dick. The mattress underneath him creaked at the negligible weight of both their bodies. Dabi settled on his stomach between Tomura’s pale thighs leaving fingerprint bruises in soft flesh. 

They did this sometimes, though he wasn’t not quite sure when exactly it started. Dabi had been his randomly assigned roommate freshman year and he grew so used to living with him that the two of them had just silently, yet mutually agreed not to fuck something up that wasn’t broken. They both berated each other for their strange and somewhat disgusting habits—Dabi would say that Tomura was a gross shut in creep who needed a fucking shower and Tomura called Dabi out on his slutty pastimes and obsession with piercing the hell out of every available inch of skin. 

And sometimes they sucked each other off. 

It was overall not a terrible arrangement—Dabi got his fill of dick and Tomura could no longer be made fun of  for being completely inexperienced. Plus, as much as he was loathe to admit, Dabi was really fucking good at oral. Like, demonically good. He’d been going down on Tomura for so long now too that he’d learned all the things that had him spilling onto that pierced tongue in minutes. 

Tomura jerked from his thoughts when two, lube slicked fingers prodding at his ass. 

“Dabi, what the fuck are you—” he protested, wiggling his scrawny hips up the bed and inadvertently letting his cock slip out of the inviting heat between his roommate’s lips. 

He couldn’t see much other than the shaking mop of black hair and pale hands with chipped black nail polish digging into his legs and yanking him back. 

“Shut up freak,” Dabi slurred, words slick with spit and Tomura’s precum. Dabi said it tasted like battery acid, but it never stopped him from guzzling it like he did with cheap whiskey and cigarettes on the weekends. “I know you like it.” 

He did like it but he wasn’t about to contribute to the fucking manic grin Dabi was giving him as he circled the tight ring of muscle, slipping in a finger to the first knuckle. 

Tomura’s head flopped back on the pillows as he bit back a low moan, “Fuck off.” 

“If you say so,” Dabi shoved his finger in roughly, squeezing a second in behind it and letting Tomura bask in the burn of being stretched too quickly before ripping his hands away. 

“No!” Tomura wailed pretty fucking shamelessly and grabbed the retreating wrist, placing Dabi’s tatted hand back on his dick that throbbed and leaked painfully. 

“Dude, what’s gotten the fuck into you?” his roommate asked, smirking still, but pumping his cock loosely nonetheless. “Our walls are thin as hell, you know I can hear you jerkin it in here every night, and now you’re practically begging for me to suck you off. Usually I gotta come to you.” 

He was infuriatingly right again.

Tomura had indeed asked for him to do this, which was definitely out of character for him. Most of the time they ended up in this position, it was because Dabi spent hours hounding him about it or just fucking dropped to his knees and whipped Tomura’s cock out in the middle of a movie night or snuck into his room while Tomura was gaming and swallowed him whole just to laugh at the way his online friends reacted to the noises. 

He’s just been so pent up lately, and you insisting on fucking touching his arm or sitting on the floor between his feet at League meetings was really not helping it. 

“I don’t know,” Tomura lied, both to Dabi and himself in the hopes that the head of black hair would just go back to bobbing on his dick like he so desperately needed it to. 

“Bro, I have fucked with enough people to know when they’re wishing I was someone else,” Dabi scoffed and ran a blessedly hot tongue from base to tip and suckled softly at the blush pink head before pulling back with a wet pop. “So who is it?”

“I’m not fucking thinking about anyone,” Tomura hissed, fisting Dabi’s spiky, black locks and thrusting into his mouth till he felt the contractions of Dabi gagging around his length. “Usually you're jumping at the chance to get dick in your mouth, so why does it matter?”

Dabi pulled back, wiping the silvery string of spit leaking past his lips away and scowling as his fingers ghosted over Tomura’s balls and sank back into his pliant ass.

“Seriously creep, I’m five seconds away from ghosting and you can fuck your hand like the sad little bitch you are. So tell me their name or I’m walking right now.”

Tomura huffed as he felt Dabi’s long, rough fingers pulled from him again and the heat of his mouth growing farther away. 

“Ugh fine, it’s that bitch I’ve been working on the English thing with.” 

Dabi made a face like his brain was buffering. 

“Seriously?” he asked, mouth gaping in a way that had Tomura even more furious his dick wasn’t buried in it. 

“Yes!” he shouted and grabbed Dabi’s cheeks in both hands, sinking past his waiting lips and practically purring when he felt them close around the base as his long tongue massaged the shaft. “Oh god yes…” 

Dabi rolled his eyes, managing to look smug even with a cock stretching his lips taught against the piercings. He used to try and tease Tomura about how small his dick was, but it was hard to believe him. Especially with how he choked sometimes when Tomura got rough with him despite his boasts of lacking a gag reflex. Not to mention how he looked now, jaw probably aching with the stretch and loving every second of it. 

Tomura lazily bucked his hips up and whined high when the fingers in his ass curled and thrust against that fucking spot he hadn’t known was there until Dabi found it for him. 

The pleased sound he made tapered off into a growl though, when his roommate with questionable benefits pulled off again to run his slutty fucking mouth. 

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled, kitten licking at Tomura’s cock and running the ball of his piercing through the slit again. Tomura gulped when he pulled it back into his mouth to swallow the bead of precum he’d collected. “I’ve seen your fucking paramour around before, pretty serious about school though. And Kinda out of your league too, not gonna lie. So, what would you do if your cute little partner was here instead?” 

Tomura bristled at the insult but couldn’t keep his pissed off look when Dabi went back to sucking his cock like a pro and curling those fucking fingers against his prostate. When he did speak, he blushed hard at the way his voice cracked and sounded like he was crying. 

“I don’t fucking—holy shit—know,” he gasped and Dabi hummed both to egg him on and to get a whole new wave of precum gushing out of Tomura’s dick. 

“C’mon man,” Dabi groaned, and Tomura distinctly heard the sound of a pants zipper and felt Dabi’s hips canting against the sheets. 

That fucking masochistic whore. He would get off to Tomura dirty talking about someone else while he sucked his dick. 

He considered stopping the whole thing right there, but then Dabi was sinking a third finger into his ass and thrusting hard while he hallowed his cheeks around Tomura’s cock and sucked— 

“Tits!” Tomura cried and covered his burning, red cheeks with his hands. “I want to put my fucking face in them and taste them in my mouth. Sometimes I can see the outline of their nipples when we’re working and the air conditioning comes on and I want to suck on them so fucking bad I can’t think about anything else the whole night.”

Once he got started, Tomura found the words just spilled from him like a dam had burst. Dabi, the depraved bastard, groaned loud and ground his pierced dick harder against the mattress as he continued to deep throat Tomura’s cock and fuck his ass at the perfect angle. 

“Sometimes when they drag me to their stupid club I lose the rounds cause I—oh god, oh fuck—just imagine them in my lap, sitting on my cock and fucking writhing and squeezing me while we face off. Such a fucking—Dabi more!—stereotypical try-hard, bitch but I want to be inside them so fucking bad,” he felt actual tears stinging the raw corners of his eyes when Dabi sped up on his dick. 

Tomura scrapped his nails against Dabi’s scalp, holding on for dear life as his breathing became even more ragged than usual. His friend’s cruelty streak reared its ugly head as Dabi sensed the tensing of Tomura’s balls and the clench of his tight ass and slowed down a fraction, keeping him teetering on the edge of an explosively pleasurable release.  

“Fucking asshole,” he growled, but didn’t dare try to fuck Dabi’s face lest he make good on his threat to leave Tomura high and dry. “I just—shit, ah, don’t stop—they talk to me sometimes and I just wanna suck their tongue into my mouth so they shut up and I need to hear them fucking falling apart for me or using that stupid, stuck up teacher voice on me and fucking my ass—Dabi Fuck—is that what you wanted to hear?”   

Dabi, because he got off on being a little shit, gave him one last delicious swallow before pulling back and fisting Tomura’s sopping wet cock. The fingers had stopped thrusting and were now pressed hard against his prostate, sending shocks through his body and making him twitch violently as his blood rushed with endorphins. He never stopped grinding his own dick against Tomura’s cotton sheets the whole time. 

“You got it bad huh, don’t ya creep,” he mused, letting a fat glob of spit fall from his lips and keep his palm slick. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about fucking anything, much less another actual person.” 

“No I fucking don’t, “ Tomura writhed against the pillows, giving in to the undeniable urge to simultaneously fuck up into Dabi’s hand and ride his fingers. 

“Who knew you were such a desperate whore, falling for the first person to show you a modicum of attention,” Dabi jeered and squeezed the tip of his dick hard, listening to Tomura let out a choked sob. “I’m actually kinda proud of you, bro. My little neckbeard baby’s growing up.” 

Dabi cooed at Tomura, sinking sharp teeth deep into the meat of his thigh and sucking a bruise into the flesh. 

“You’re the one—nghh—getting off on it,” Tomura clapped back but didn’t bother denying it again. 

There was a sense of dread growing in his gut alongside the mounting pleasure of his orgasm that Dabi was currently holding hostage. Dabi may have had  a dickish personality just as massive as the actual dick that was currently painting Tomura’s comforter in stains, but he knew him. 

And he did, admittedly have much more experience with these types of things than Tomura. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Dabi grunted. “Last time I let you return the favor you bit my fucking cock. I gotta get off somehow.” 

“Don’t say rude shit to me and I won’t bite you.” 

“Watch it, Tomura,” Dabi huffed and nipped at his thigh again. “You should be thanking me for my services.” 

“Not if you’re gonna keep running your mouth instead of sucking me off,” he tried to sound intimidating but he was well and truly wrecked and couldn’t find the energy to give his words an edge. 

“You should ask them out,” Dabi continued, ignoring Tomura’s failed attempts at banter. “Bring ‘em over or some shit. Maybe then if I lock down that blonde piece of ass I’ve been talking to, we’ll both have much more interesting things to go down on.” 

“Your whore ass is the one always jumping me, don’t act like it’s a fucking chore,” Tomura groaned as Dabi started licking at his cock again, pressing sloppy, half kisses on the tip as he jerked it in his fist. 

“Not my fault I get bored sometimes,” he replied and closed his eyes as Tomura clenched particularly hard around Dabi’s relentless fingers. “But seriously, you should go for it. I’d kill to find out if you’re just as bad at eating pussy as you are sucking dick.” 

“Fuck y—” Tomura started to say when Dabi reared up till they were chest to chest and their foreheads knocked together. 

“I fucking will if you don’t shut up, creep, and I think it’d be so much better if you handed your fucking virginity to that pretty little partner bitch instead,” he said and stunned Tomura into silence when he licked into his mouth. 

Dabi had kissed him before, but Tomura could count the number of occasions on one hand and almost all had been when his punk ass roommate was drunk as hell and in his feels about some tortured past. But Dabi’s eyes were bright and lucid now, blinking down at Tomura as he dragged their tongues together, flooding his mouth with the faint taste of cigarettes and jizz. 

Their cocks brushed together too, the stimulation making Tomura whine into Dabi’s lips, who dropped a merciful hand down, taking them both in his fist and began pumping. 

He didn’t stop as he pulled back, grinning down at Tomura like a fucking maniac—all shitty tattoos and silver piercings. The little barbels that stuck through Dabi’s nipples brushed against his own and made him moan at the cool metal and hot skin on his sensitive chest. Tomura was fucking sensitive everywhere, as Dabi had helped him discover, probably from a lifetime of being touched more by cheap sweatshirts than human hands. 

“Now,” Dabi grunted as he thrust loosely against Tomura’s cock and his own fist before pulling away to settle back between his legs. “Shut up and cum down my throat—gotta give your virgin ass a refresher on mind shattering orgasms, so you know if that bitch is any good or not.”

Tomura’s tongue was halfway around a witty comeback when Dabi swallowed him to the hilt once again and started working his ass even harder. He really fucked hoped the neighbors were not home to hear him get his shit rocked at 2pm on a fucking Tuesday, cause Dabi might have been flunking out of his classes but he’d get a goddamn a plus for sucking dick. 

The hand on his thigh, spreading him open, migrated to his hip so that Tomura could snap his legs shut hard around Dabi’s ring littered ears as he guided Tomura to grind down on his hand. The pressure in his gut built up exponentially higher now that Dabi wasn’t trying to hold him on the edge of climax. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to acquiesce to Dabi’s request, as he tightened up in a full body clench before gripping Dabi’s hair and spilling rope after rope of hot, sticky release straight onto his roommate’s tongue. 

Dabi, the fucking slut, made a show of swallowing every drop that spilled from Tomura’s abused cock, milking his prostate the whole time and only letting Tomura slip from his mouth when he was soft and finally spent. 

The fingers in his ass remained though, still for the most part and slowly dipping in and out every so often. Tomura whimpered and clenched but was somewhat thankful for the remaining feeling of fullness. 

“So, did you really mean all that?” Dabi asked with his signature smirk. “You really want your group project partner to cockwarm you and fuck your tight little ass?”

“Fuck off,” Tomura scowled and smacked Dabi hard across the face with an errant pillow. 

Dabi yanked it from his grasp and tossed his ammunition onto the floor. “Hey, it’s not actually too bad in here,” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis which elicited an embarrassingly high gasp from Tomura, “give ‘em my number if you need a reference for asshole tightness.” 

“Get the fuck out of my ass and my room,” Tomura kicked at Dabi’s back as it shook with laughter that lacked it’s usual sneering bite. 

“What? Saving the cuddles for your new S/O?” he shot back and nuzzled his cum and spit covered face into Tomura’s neck. 

With their chests pressed together, Tomura could feel the cooling, sticky remnants of Dabi’s own  release coating his stomach. He squirmed against the feeling and pushed at the offending chest until his friend flopped down onto the scant space left between the mattress and the wall. 

“Ew,” Tomura ran a finger through the mess Dabi had left smeared on him. “I’m taking a fucking shower.” 

“God, finally!” Dabi exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and producing a cigarette from god knows where. He let the paper rest between his lips unlit. “I should have thought about getting you fucked out on the reg earlier, creep, if it’ll stop you smelling like ass.” 

Tomura launched the discarded pillow which hit it’s mark with a dull thump. 

“You better be fucking gone when I get back,” he hissed and stumbled naked, on shaking legs into the hall and to their shared bathroom. 

Dabi’s cackling followed him until the door shut and the lock clicked behind him. Tomura turned the water on quickly, letting steam cloud the mirror before he jumped under the spray. The only products on the shelves were Dabi’s for the most part with the exception of a store brand bar of soap and some 3 in one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. 

Tomura new he should clean himself more often, but his skin was so fucking raw all the time it hurt to do, so he mostly avoided it unless the smell got really unbearable—or Dabi was painting him in jizz whenever the opportunity presented itself. 

He tried to get in and out as quickly as possible so he didn’t have the opportunity to think too hard about the admission his fuck buddy roommate had pulled from him mid blow job. Because if he did, in his post nut, clingy state, he’d most certainly imagine you were with him, tits pressed against his back and your soft, insistent tongue dipping past his lips, tasting like fruit gum and expensive cafe drinks instead of nicotine and cum. 

And he really couldn’t handle that, cause Dabi was right, he had something fucking bad for you and the thought of another rejection loomed large. 

When he did towel himself off and shuffle, still naked back into his bedroom Dabi was nowhere to be seen. Tomura’s phone however, was left sitting right next to the jizz stain on his sheets. He frowned at the open balcony door where Dabi was no doubt smoking and snatched the device before tumbling onto the pillows. 

He powered it on and scrolled through his notifs before one caught his eyes. You and Dabi were really the only people that ever texted him, but the contact name above this one had changed. 

bitch (endearing)

— hey, starting an impromptu round of Smash soon if you’re interested <3

The stupid text heart made his chest throb and he stared at Dabi’s new nickname for you, not even noticing the fucking grin that tugged at his cheeks. 

He bit his lip to stop the twitching when it pulled too hard at the chapped skin and scrambled for his clothes before shooting a quick confirmation text back. Tomura opted for his only pair of black jeans this time instead of sweats and the least stained sweatshirt he owned. 

Dabi peaked around the corner when he heard the clink of Tomura’s keys. The bastard was smoking in just a pair of underwear that left half his ass on display for all the whole fucking street. He smirked, quirking his eyebrows and bringing his hands up to slip his index finger through the circle of his middle and thumb on the other hand in a silent, vulgar gesture. 

“Screw off,” Tomura shouted over his shoulder and made for the door. 

“Wrap it before you tap it, bro!” Dabi called after him, cut off by the slamming door. 

Tomura took the stairs two at a time, pulling out his phone and tucking the hood over his damp hair, this time to hide the growing smile playing at his lips. 

---

Your project was almost complete. 

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was, by nature, a creature of habit, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair. 

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out. 

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down. 

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait. 

hey would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?— 

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop— 

It wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like. 

bitch (endearing) 

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way. 

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner for you to text back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside. 

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table. 

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in. 

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink. 

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over. 

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot. 

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward. 

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe. 

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat. 

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.” 

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye. 

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked. 

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar. 

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and loose tank top. He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate. 

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door. 

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips. 

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off. 

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—” 

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door. 

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face. 

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird. 

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment. 

“Yeah…” 

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls. 

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony. 

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it. 

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his work, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was lit only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light. 

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them. 

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program. 

And just like that. 

It was over. 

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered. 

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he just rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded. 

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk, hands resting way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product. 

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a little swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition. 

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah. 

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it and used your position as an excuse to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff. In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder. 

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be. 

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.” 

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath and he knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that tis was just a thing people say when they’re relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in. 

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before. 

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer. 

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see the way he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up just enough scant courage to maybe close the gap, but then you started laughing? 

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else. 

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but— 

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him. 

You were fucking kissing him. 

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones, like he was supposed to. 

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning. 

God but when you pulled back and just enough to look him in the eye— 

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main character’s look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes— 

Yeah. 

Yeah he got it now. 

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting. 

“Eager are we?” you have that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.  

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him. 

And Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when your licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle. Did other people always taste this good or was it just you? 

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you licked at the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress. 

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again. 

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.” 

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum. 

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that sorta thing.” 

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you. 

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?“ you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was kinda a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.” 

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character. 

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.” 

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, towing with the pooling saliva. 

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.” 

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman. He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe  him unless he walked through the door right now. 

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist. 

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled away, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest. 

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

---

“I don’t—”

He couldn't finish the sentence, not when you were grinding down on him like that. How the hell did you even know how to move your hips in those little circles? Was there some Being a Massive Slut for Dummies book he was missing out on or?

“C’mon, Tomura, we’ve been through this,” you sighed and leaned down to such a trail of sloppy kisses from his jaw to his ear, biting down on the soft flesh, “I know you’ve been thinking so much nasty shit about me, the least you can do is let me hear it.” 

Those hands on his chest were moving again, curling into the hem of his t-shirt and tugging until it was over his head and tossed aside on the floor. On an embarrassing instinct, Tomura’s hands shot up to cover himself, only stopped when you leaned onto your haunches and tugged off your own. 

“Shit,” Tomura whispered. 

You weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

He drank in the sight of those cute fucking tits he’d only ever caught glimpses of through those low cut tops you always wore. You grinned down at him, both hands coming up to play with your chest, fingers pinching and rolling the pretty buds. Tomura felt drool slip from the corner of his mouth. 

“Is that all you got?”

He wasn’t completely in control of his body as it catapulted off the bed to smash his face between your squished up tits, but neither of you were complaining if the sounds that followed were any indication. You hummed happily as he pressed his cheeks to the warm, soft flesh and his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and laving his tongue over the pebbled skin. 

“You really wanted everyone to see these, huh?” he meant the words to have more bite but it was hard with your fucking boob in his mouth. 

And he wasn’t looking to stop suckling at you anytime soon so….

“They’re nice tits, what can I say,” you shot back and he couldn’t wait to have you fucked so stupid all those witty one-liners would die on your tongue. 

You fucking tasted so good. He hadn’t ever thought that tits would have a fucking taste but it was like some odd combination of skin and spit and it was addictive. 

“Got a whole fucking eye full that first time you talked to me in class,” he growled, sinking his teeth in hard enough to leave a mark around your nipple. “Fucking parading them around every time you leaned over. Thought you were so fucking desperate for attention.” 

If you really wanted to know all the vile, gross shit he thought on the daily then who was he to deny you that pleasure. 

Cause you were definitely feeling some type of way about it based on the way your fingers threaded through his hair and held him to your chest as he tongued and bit at the skin. 

“Think I’m just a stupid attention whore, is that it?” you moaned when he switched breasts, palm kneading at the one he’d abandoned. 

“I think you’re a useless slut who’ll do anything to get a guy to fucking look your way,” Tomura gasped and sunk his teeth in again. 

A shiver ran through him at the whine leaving your lips. 

He did that. 

He needed to do more of that immediately. 

“You like it when I call you a fucking slut?” 

Tomura didn’t know what came over him in that moment—what weird spirit of horny confidence possessed his body—but suddenly, with a surge of motion, his hand left your chest and latched onto the smooth column of your throat. The move had actually been quite graceful until he tried to flip your positions and got his legs tangled with yours, resulting in more of a...sexy pile than the smooth transition of power he was going for. 

You didn’t seem to mind though. 

You never did.

Tomura guessed if he was going to admit something nice about you, then it would be that at least you were consistent. 

“I do like it when you call me that,” you breathed into his ear, hands under his arms to haul him back over top of you and replace the hand at your throat with a smirk, “and you love that it’s true.”  

Fuck. 

He really did, now that he thought about it. All those message boards always talked about finding virgins who you could mold to your dick just like they were meant to be, but…he was so fucking anxious at the best of times, having those eyes that pissed him off and knew it made this so much more fun. 

There was probably a more eloquent word than that, and you would probably more than willing to supply it, but the goal was to shut you up and he wasn’t gonna be okay with just coasting this time. 

“God, you need to learn how to shut the fuck up,” he spat and subsequently yelped as you leaned forward, licking a wet trail up his chest before latching onto one of his nipples. 

The flushed, pink skin disappeared into the heat of your mouth, leaving his dick twitching violently in his pants that had grown too tight and damp for comfort. The languid motion of your tongue over the rapidly pebbling flesh and the goldilocks perfect way in which you nipped at him was enough to corroborate all your claims of experience. With the constant, electric spark pleasure running from his chest to his pants, Tomura found formulating sentences a little challenging, so he just said the first thing that came to mind. 

“Why don’t we give you something even better to with that fucking whore mouth, hm?”

It was cliche as hell, stolen straight from one of the admittedly plentiful pornos he’d watched in his day, but you just grinned and popped off his nipple, nodded frantically at the innuendo. 

Those clever little fingers that seemed to type without ever stopping dropped to the waistband of his sweats and tugged them down his thighs. He kicked a bit awkwardly to get them off his ankles but you were already yanking the elastic of his boxers. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you tucked the fabric just under his balls and let your eyes wander slowly from his splotchy red chest to the patch of hair just at the base of his dick. 

If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought you were drooling. 

Tomura felt a bit more in his element here, having had some actual frame of reference—as his asshole roommate was so generous to provide—so he didn’t waste any time. Falling onto his back, he squirmed up the sheets until his head was resting on a pillow and you were crawling between his thighs. God and you and you had your ass up too, wiggling it back and forth like you were wagging your tail at just the thought of getting his cock in your mouth. 

Well, since you were so eager, Tomura decided to jump right in. You seemed to like things a bit rough anyway, so he reached out, burying a hand roughly in your hair and plunging in. 

The cute and kinda disgusting choking gasp you let out was addictive. 

And now he fucking knew Dabi was lying about his dick being small, cause you had a big fucking mouth to talk all that shit and it was absolutely stuffed full. Your lips were stretched obscenely not even halfway down his shaft and your eyes were already pricked with tears at the edges. The fucking feel of your mouth was like how he imagine silk might feel, if it was soaked and scorching. Your throat constricted around him as you gagged and oh it was fucking cock sucking heaven he was in. 

Tomura was almost tempted to grab his phone and snap a— 

Actually, that was a fucking great idea.  

His free hand fumbled for his pants, closing around his phone and unlocking it while you hummed and pulled back, bobbing your head twice before sinking back down, Your eyes flew open when the camera flash lit up the dark corner of his room. He could feel you trying to move away, to snap at him for taking his little keepsake but he quickly fisted your hair and bucked his hips up to keep you firmly on his dick. 

“Oh no, you were so eager to suck me off, you’re gonna finish the fucking job before you breathe again,” he panted, holding the sides of your face and fucking your mouth in earnest. 

He’d found it easy to simply follow the instinctive rhythm of his hips, constantly seeking out the wet heat source. Your eyes rolled back in your goddamn as his length slid past your lips over and over again 

Holy shit it felt so good. 

And it felt even better when he could see how much you loved it. 

How much you loved his filthy fucking almost virgin cock shoved down your throat and he finally felt the vulgar dam in his mind break. 

“I think about you all the time,” he gasped, keening high when you ran your tongue over his slit on ever upstroke, just how he liked it. “I lay here at night and fuck my hand and think about sinking into your tight fucking cunt. I wanna fill you up so bad, it’s the only thing on my mind whenever I talk to you.” 

The only thing stopping him from cumming straight down your throat in that moment was sheer horny force of will. 

“When you mouth off in class, all I hear is you just begging for someone to bend you over and fuck that cocky fucking arrogance right out of you,” below him, you reached a hand up, pinching hard at his nipple and humming at the squeal he made. “Fuck, and I want eat your pussy while you’re up there presenting this shit, so I can watch you try and keep it together so know one else knows what a fucking whore you are for me. Such a fucking slut for me.” 

Something was washing over him, some weird, intense revelation of something that perhaps he’d always known but just needed the motivation of a fucking earth shattering blowjob to work out of him—that he wanted you. Really wanted you. Felt entitled to you. He’d spent so much mental energy obsessing over it, that really, no one else fucking deserved to touch you but him. 

No one else would want you this much. 

No one else would want him this much.

Your hands had found their way to his thighs and they were rubbing sweet little circles into the soft skin. 

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” his voice was wrecked, even more than usual, from the near constant string of high pitched whining “You’d love to have me fucking ruin you, make you cum all over my tongue in front of everyone. Let them fucking know who does that shit to you.” 

You managed a nod, even with his cock buried deepdeepdeep in your throat. And Tomura was fucking twitching at the thought. The muscles in his legs jumped under your touch. A slimy mix of spit and precum was gushing down his length, slipping over his balls and slicking his ass. It was sloppy and the room was so full of the wet slap of his hips against your mouth. 

It was so much, too much, oh shit, shit he didn’t want to cum like this— 

“Wait, wait!” he cried, back arching with the agony of leaving the plush paradise between your lips. “Please—I wanna cum in you.” 

You looked up at him, head hanging from his grip in your hair, with your jaw slack and dripping and nodded. He felt as though his ribs were lined with magnets that pulled him into your outstretched arms, kneeling as he pressed his mouth frantically to yours, uncaring of the mess of the faint taste of bitter precum. 

There was something frantic in the air, like a switch had been flipped. The need to feel you, to be connected at every point— to get just a little bit more of what he’d earned—grew stronger with every passing second. 

His lips were rough and raw and stung when you licked them but that only made it sweeter. You tongued at his teeth and sucked him into your mouth like he was warm food after months without. It was needy. Needy and ragged because you needed him. 

You needed him. 

What a fucking thought that was. 

Your pants were quickly discarded along with his boxers, and for the first time in his life, Tomura didn’t care about all the exposed skin. He didn’t think about all the unsightly patches of irritation or scaring, because you never had. Not once had you ever stared or commented and you weren’t starting now. Your hands smoothed over every inch of him, just as desperate like he always knew you would be.   

Because you were so— 

Perfect. 

Fucking disgusting. 

Tomura let you fall back onto the mattress and whimpered at the feeling of your thighs hitched around his waist. He made the mistake of letting his eyes leave your mouth to glance down and oh, oh he was enraptured. 

Dabi was right, he’d never actually seen a pussy in real life and holy shit. 

His fingers gravitated immediately to your lips, fucking soaked, soaked in arousal that had smeared on your thighs. 

“You get this fucking hot just from my cock in your mouth?” he asked, grinning as he collected some of the slick on his fingers and brought them curiously to his mouth. 

Delicious. 

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you whined and pulled him closer with your thighs. 

“You want me to fuck you that bad?” his fingers ghosted over where he thought your clit might be and was rewarded when you moaned low as he brushed over a raised little bud. “Does this nasty little slut want me that fucking bad?”

“Please Tomura…” his name on your tongue was better than any crazy ass party drug Dabi ever brought home, “you have no fucking idea how long I’ve been wanting you so fucking deep in me—”

Your words cut off with a sob as he ran his fingers down, searching for your entrance and sinking in hard when he found it. And it was so nice in there. So fucking hot. 

“What are you?” he asked, thrusting his fingers in and out, trying to remember how Dabi did it to him and what felt good.

He plunged them deep and curled up towards your belly and you sobbed, “A fucking slut!” 

God he was so glad no one else was here to hear that. 

This was just for him. 

“And who’s fucking slut are you?” 

He really could help himself, he just wanted to hear it so fucking bad. 

“Yours,” you whined and rolled your hips down so his thumb caught on your clit and. “I’m your fucking slut!” 

“Shit,” he rasped and ripped his fingers from you. 

He wasn’t entirely conscious of his movements. There was just one, very loud voice, screaming in his head to bury his cock in that perfect fucking heat and suddenly his was gripping himself and pushing in and— 

“Ahh, fucking god,” Tomura whimpered, body going limp as his tip was sheathed fully inside you. 

His forehead dropped down to rest against yours, arms like half cooked pasta on either side of your head, failing to hold him up. You brought your arms up, sliding fingers through his hair and down his back as your ankles locked right above his ass to urge him forward. 

Tomura’s cock sunk in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a groan. His mouth moved even when the rest of him couldn’t

“So tight…” he mumbled, head slipping into the crook of your neck and sucking lightly at the skin, feeling the comfort of it in his mouth. “Didn’t think it’d be this tight.” 

“Are you trying to insult me or were you just a virgin?” you huffed out, but there was a laugh bubbling just behind the words. 

He weakly held up to fingers to indicate the second, dropping them immediately to clutch at the sheets when you clamped down on his cock, nestled sweetly against your cervix. 

“Wait really?” you asked, hands skimming up his back to grip his cheeks. 

Tomura tried to hide himself in your shoulder, because the fucking dopey ass smile on his face would surely feed your ego and he didn’t need you knowing that your pussy had him fucking higher than a goddamn kite. 

If only his bones hadn’t suddenly taken on all the physical properties of jello. 

“I’ve fucked around before,” he said, which was technically true, “just never...like this.” 

He didn’t even need to move—which, well, wasn’t entirely true he was burning with the urge to drive himself frantically into your dripping cunt—but he was so blissed out from just the soft, warm, tight hug of your walls around his cock that pulsed precum with ever clench, was enough. 

What he wouldn’t give to have this all the time. Have you constantly sitting on his cock, keeping him warm and hard and cumming inside you. 

At the reminder of why exactly he’d set out to do this, his body regained a bit of it’s former solidity. 

“Oh,” you began, voice strained and hips shaking with the effort of not rocking back on his dick. “Well, you feel fucking amazing—”

Tomura cut you off with an experimental thrust. He pulled all the way back, watching as his tip just nearly popped out of your cute fucking hole and then snapped in again. You were a fucking mess above him, gripping at the pillows and then at his arms, dragging red scratches down the pale, fragile skin there.

It only spurred him on. 

“You like that? Like my huge fucking cock in you?” he growled, flopping down so he could feel your nipples brush against his while he railed into you. 

As much as you apparently enjoyed hearing all the filth that spewed from him, he really liked having a receptacle for it all. It had been hidden inside him for so long, the release was only made sweeter with the addition of your slutty fucking pussy clenching at every word. 

“So fucking big, Tomura—”

You rocked up to slip your tongue into his mouth again, sucking softly at his rough lower lip and drinking down all the less than dominant cries that poured from him as his release grew again. He wasn’t really sure how to get you off, but you seemed to understand the intentions behind his hand wandering to nudge at the space he was driving his cock into. 

Those soft fingers held his and guided them up to that nub he’d found before and moved his hand in little, rhythmic circles that had you fucking sobbing into his mouth. 

Real tears streaked down your face as you moaned into him, “Oh fuck, yes Tomura, baby, just like that…!”

And for once, he had absolutely no qualms with doing exactly what you said. He wanted—needed—to know what it would feel like for you to cream all over his dick. Wanted to see the stupid fucking face you would make as he ripped you apart on his definitely massive length. 

You were rocked back into ever thrust, drinking in the sound of slapping skin, mouth permanently attached to his—tongues locked together.   

The taste of fruit gum mixed with salty cum and the smell of sweat and sex and cleanlaundryshampoo was fucking everywhere. It was intoxicating and heady and all he had ever needed. 

Really, you weren’t so bad when you were crying on his cock.

And you were fucking crying, screaming for him—his name, calling him ‘baby’ in a way that had his heart stuttering uncomfortably in his throat and babbling about how good, how fucking perfect he felt inside. 

“C’mon,” he grunted, “c’mon, I wanna see my fucking slut cum for me, all over my cock.” 

And for once, you actually followed an order. 

His fingers on your clit never gave up and he could fucking feel the orgasm wash over you. Your cunt spasmed and clamped hard like a vice, tighter than anything he ever could have imagined. And you choked out his name, so desperate:

“Tomura, fuck yes baby!”

God your face was so good, all scrunched up and then relaxing into a blissful, panting, open-mouth grin.  

It was sort of beautiful. 

But he wasn’t gonna fucking say that. 

“Good fucking slut,” he said instead, and arched his chest into yours so he could feel the swell of your pretty tits against his chest. 

And he almost fucking lost it right there but he needed more, needed to feel full too. The clenching of your pussy was so unmatched by any sensation but he guessed Dabi always called him a greedy whore for a reason. 

His hand grabbed at yours—hips only letting up when he couldn’t actively get his dick out of you as you came—and brought it roughly to his lips. Tomura was still slick, covered in spit and sweat but he sucked two of your fingers into his mouth anyway. His tongue delved between them as you watched with wide eyes as he spat onto them and whined.

“I need—oh shit—inside, inside...fuck…” 

He could fucking get his tongue to make words but he dragged your hand to his ass and prayed you’d get the hint. Prayed you’d fill him up too. 

And you certainly delivered. 

His hips started up their unforgiving rhythm again now that you’d rode out your release, slipping even more easily into your pussy with all the slick spilling out of you. God that would be his cum soon—his cum dripping out onto your thighs. Your feet dropped to the bed and Tomura grabbed your waist for leverage. 

Your clever little finger circled his hole, wrist bent from the awkward angle below him but working nonetheless. His spit and precum made less than ideal lube but he welcomed the burn of you entering him. A second one joined behind the first and it was rough going for a moment until he was able to rock back fully, finding a certain bend of the knee and half thrust that had him simultaneously grinding into you and fucking himself on your fingers. 

And then you managed to get deep enough to brush against that fucking spot, that magic fucking spot that had him seeing stars and screaming your name—not slut, not bitch, not some other fucking cruelty—your name and spilling rope after rope of hot cum against your walls. 

Your eyes did that thing where they rolled halfway up and crossed like this was some fucking hentai and you weren’t knuckles deep in his ass while he came inside you. 

Tomura went completely limp then, boneless like a cheap chicken wing and collapsed onto your chest, whimpering when your fingers left him empty but comforted by the rhythmic clenching of your cunt, warming his cock and keeping his cum safe inside. 

“So good,” you whispered into his hair, soft palms smoothing over his back in slow circles. “Felt so good, Tomura. You were so good.” 

He shivered in your arms, lulled by the feeling of your breasts under him and breathing in the mixture of soap and sex that radiated from your skin. Everything about it was strange, but in that wonderful kind of way that new games sometimes were. A tingling at the prospect of a new adventure, a new world, and a new journey to embark on. 

You pressed your lips to his sweat slicked forehead and didn’t turn away in disgust. 

No, instead you just held him on his cum soaked sheets and slept. 

---

Tomura woke about an hour later, dick finally soft and tangled in a knot of limbs with you on his bed. You’d stretched and let him kiss you without asking, accepting his tongue on yours just as easily as you had before. 

After detangling yourself from him, you left to take a shower and Tomura found that he couldn’t bare the notion of being apart from you for more than twenty minutes now even more than he couldn’t fucking stand showering, so he’d joined you anyway. 

You didn’t talk much and neither did he, but it was that same comfortable silence you’d formed in your little study room hideout. He let you drag him under the spray just long enough to wash most of the jizz and spit from his thighs before he stepped back to lean on the tile and watch as you rinsed yourself. 

Only once did you mention the rough, scaly skin on his neck and face. Your hand was gentle, roving over the cracks and asking him if he’d tried any soap for sensitive skin. That yours was like that too and you’d let him borrow some to try out. He blushed at the implication of seeing you again after this. 

It was well past midnight when you toweled off and dried him as well. He lent you one of his few clean t-shirts and you wore it without any underwear. Tomura shameless stared at your bare ass when you bent over to strip the ruined comforter from his bed. 

He thought about burying himself in you again, and because he hasn’t dressed yet—and you don’t push him away when he presses against you—he does. And you moan for him again when he fucks you from behind, just as rough but it all comes easier the second time around. 

You told Tomura, later—when you were both exhausted again and stained with release—he was kinda a natural and something about the praise really got to him. 

“You’d fucking know,” he snipped at you, curled on his side with his face in your tits. 

This was his new favorite position, he’d decided and he snickered at the thought of planting his face right in your chest while you were both in class. He’d pay money to see the horrified look on your prim fucking face. 

“Yes I would,” you hummed into his hairline, mouthing softly at the baby curls around his crown. “So, when are you gonna take me out?”

Tomura felt the loading circle of death spinning in his brain for a moment. Like a 404 error had occurred somewhere in amongst his neural pathways. 

“I thought you said you were a slut?” he asked and almost immediately wished he could quit the game, even if it meant he had to replay all the scenes before this moment. 

But you didn’t pull away. 

You really never do.

He thought idly that you both must have some weirdo bug making you enjoy all the disgusting bits of the other. 

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take me on a date if that’s something you’d like,” you chuckled and he felt your chest rise with it and the breath on his forehead. 

He nestled his face deeper into your tits, “yeahsurefinewhatever.”

The lips pressed to his head smiled but you didn’t say anything again for a long time. Not until both of you were drifting off again, falling into the trap of shared body heat and the odd human craving of skin against skin. 

“Your freaky roommate isn’t going to walk in right?”

Tomura grumbled, mouthing at your nipple and suckling softly, “no, you’re mine now, he can’t have either of us.” 

You signed contentedly for a moment, moaning lightly as he swiped his tongue over your sensitive skin before the words caught up to you. 

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go to sleep.” 

You didn’t push it any farther, or remove Tomura from his sucking at your tits. It was quite possibly the most peaceful night of sleep he’d ever gotten, which only ensured the fact that you would never be allowed to sleep anywhere else. 

This was your responsibility now, after all, and you fucking loved responsibility so he didn’t see any problems. 

Shockingly, Tomura did let you leave the next morning to grab some things from home and change clothes. He watched you walk down the sidewalk from his window and only meandered back into the kitchen when you turned a corner out of sight and the front door slammed open. 

Dabi was plopped on the couch when he ventured out, shirtless and absolutely covered in hickeys. Tomura would have commented on it, but he knew he didn’t look much better and didn't want to invite the comparison. 

“What the hell got into you, creep?” he asked incredulously, leering from the cushions, looking him up and down. 

“I got into bitch (endearing),” he cupped his hands to form parenthesis in the air and grabbed a Monster from the fridge. 

Dabi gaped, pushing himself up and not so subtly limping over to cage him against the counter, “No you fucking did not.”

“Did so,” he shot back, knocking his shoulder roughly into Dabi’s chest so he could stalk back into his room. “Looks more like someone got into you.” 

You’d put him in such a weirdly pleasant mood, he really didn’t want to give that up, but Dabi was present, the bitch. 

“We got into each other,” Dabi huffed, flopping down on Tomura’s bed and ruining your scent on his sheets, “No fucking way you had the balls dude.” 

Impulsively—in part because he really needed to ego boost of proving Dabi wrong and to convince himself as well that last night (and this morning) had really happened—Tomura whipped out his phone, flashing that pretty picture of you choking on his dick right into that smug bastards face. 

The fucking grin only grew wider. 

“I’ll be fucking damned, creep,” he stood from the bed to get a closer look, but Tomura locked the screen quickly and shoved it back in his pocket. “How much did you have to pay her?”

“I don’t know what you have to do to get some,” Tomura scoffed, “but mine was free.” 

Dabi looked like he had something smart to say back to that but Tomura didn’t want to hear it. 

“Get out,” he called over his shoulder as he took Dabi’s place on his bed, inhaling the little wisps of you left over on the cotton. God he was never gonna wash these. 

“Aw, don’t wanna give me all the details?” 

He peaked up at Dabi, leaned against his doorframe. 

“No, I have to get dressed,” he paused before the next words that left his mouth, hiding his face in the pillow so Dabi wouldn’t see the furious red of blood rushing to his cheeks. “I have a date later.” 

---

“Stop fucking squirming,” you leaned forward to bite at Tomura’s lips as he shifted under you.

Your hands were gathering his hair and pulling it in twists to the side, tying the strands away from his face. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but your legs wrapped around his waist as he sat in his desk chair, cock soaked and deliciously warm in your pussy was harder to ignore. Especially when you clamped down on him every time he moved while you worked.

“Then get off my dick,” he snapped, leaning back in the chair for better leverage as he snapped his hips up. You looked straight out of those hentai memes, eyes almost crossing when he pushed you down to meet his thrust. “Fucking greedy slut.”

“Excuse-ah,” this time it was you bouncing on his length unprompted, “me, but I wasn’t the one with my cock out begging cause it was so cold.”

Your tone was entirely too even for his liking, and Tomura frowned as he dug his hands into your hips and made you grind into his lap. He really was dating such a fucking whore.

“Well, if you hadn’t fucking insisted we go to this dumbass party, then I could have fucked you hours ago,” he knew he was pouting, but you’d started meeting every roll of his hips halfway, using your thighs now to start up a slow rhythm. “Maybe don’t take so long picking an outfit next time.”

“I was picking yours asshole,” you caught his lip between your teeth again and sucked.

Joke was on you though, the more you tried to fucking tease him, the deeper he was gonna fuck you.

How d’you like that, bitch?

“What—don’t you dare fucking stop—was wrong with my outfit?”

He could feel spit pooling under his tongue. Your fucking pussy always did this to him, made his mouth water and this thighs shake while you rode him in earnest now, moaning into his ear as he made sure you felt him in your fucking guts.

God, he was never gonna get over that—the sounds you made. The sounds he pulled from you.

“Tomura, baby,” every word was punctuated with a gasp, one of his thumbs drawing those little circles on your clit that he figured out pretty quick made you cry. “I love you—and the easy dick access sweatpants provide—dearly, but your ass looks so fucking good in these jeans.”

Something weird always happened to his chest when you said stupid, cheesy shit like that. He knew that was thing fucking normies said all the time, and he used to gag whenever he heard people in the halls professing their feelings to each other. But whenever you did it, Tomura’s lips just instinctively fought to turn up at the edges and his lungs suddenly forgot what air felt like in favor of dedicating ever braincell in his body to memorizing whatever dumb as hell, sweet thing you said.

“Why does—mm yes fuck...” he stared entranced at his lap where your slutty goddamn pussy swallowed him up and pulsed around his cock with every tight circle drawn on your clit. “Why does it matter how my ass looks?”

You paused while he fought with the neckline of your top so your tits bounced free and he could suck at your nipples. And holy shit, you could call him a baby all you wanted, but he’d never get tired of the fucking taste feel smell of your chest filling his mouth and pressed so nice against his face.

Shit, he’d fucking live in your tits if he could. Suckle at you endlessly until you poured sweet fucking milk onto his waiting tongue.

Cause you told him one time that was a thing that could happen. Swatted his head away when he pawed at you for too long cause apparently if he sucked hard enough all the time—

“Listen, if your cute little boyfriend had the tightest ass on the fucking planet, wouldn’t you want to show that off to all your friends.”

His face lit up. Tomura could feel whatever blood left not pumping through this dick, rush to his cheeks and he buried his face more resolutely in your tits so as not to give you the satisfaction of flustering him.

You fucking cooed at him every time and squished his cheeks up, calling him your baby boy.

Fucking disgusting.

But damn if he didn’t love it.

“Whatever,” he groaned, picking up his pace and drinking down the delicious little whimpers you let out every time his cock met you coming down on his lap. “Shut the fuck up, and take it like a good fucking whore.”

“My fucking pleasure,” you grunted before losing all semblance of attempted hairstyling entirely, letting out a long, low moan as he pummeled that pretty pussy and sped up on your clit.

Tomura would absolutely never admit to it, but fucking you always had him feeling so fucking needy. The second your lips or your cunt were swallowing him up it was like a dam broke and every selfish request just poured out of him.

“Wanna cum,” he mumbled into your breast, whining as your walls fluttered and pulsed.

He knew what that meant now. Tomura was what you called ‘quick on the uptake’ and honed in fast on what it felt like when you started to lose it.

“Yeah? Does my pretty boy want me to make him feel good?”

God fuck yeah.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it out loud but, yes. Tomura was your pretty, baby boy and he needed he sweet fucking bitch to make him bust so deep inside you.

He was about to reach his peak too, teetering on the edge when the pounding started.

And not the fun kind. Not the bend you over his bed and rail you till you couldn’t fucking walk.

No, no, no.

This was balled fist slamming against his door and Dabi’s grating, smoky voice shouting from the hall.

“Could you fornicate later freaks?!” he called through the door. “You’re gonna be fucking late.”

Tomura’s orgasm hurtled to a painful halt and you groaned again—well growled was probably a more appropriate term for the snarl you let out into the crook of his neck.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?!” Tomura shouted back, the force of his voice shifting the angle of his cock. The minute stimulation felt so good he kept up the slow grinding motion.

You groaned again—decidedly much sweeter—and sucked a cheeky fucking mark right on the side of his neck.

“What are you fucking doing?” he hissed to you, but it was Dabi’s voice who answered.

Along with the click of his knob turning.

“Well, it sounded like you were having a hard time getting your bitch off, so I was gonna offer—“

Dabi stopped, taking the split second before the controller Tomura chucked at his head connected to stare fixedly at your bare ass seated on Tomura’s thighs.

“Yes, my bitch, so get the fuck out!” he yelled, coming out a little choked at the end as your slutty self kept grinding on his cock.

“Yeah, and he’s doing a great job,” you mused, languidly raising your head from his shoulder and kissing up his jawline, completely unfazed entirely by the new audience.

Tomura’s brain was ping ponging so hard between rage, cheek burning embarrassment, and being the most turned on he’d ever been in his life.

The things you fucking did to him.

“If you say so sweetheart,” Dabi, also completely unperturbed by watching you grind on his roommates dick, leaned against the doorframe like you all were chatting about the fucking mayoral election.

“I do,” you lifted your hips then, showing off one full bounce that had both Dabi and Tomura’s eyes rolling.

Though the latter was much more annoyed than Tomura could hope to be.

“Fucking show off,” his roommate muttered.

“Isn’t your boyfriend waiting in the kitchen?” you huffed and glared over your shoulder at Dabi in his platform boots and mesh top.

He scowled and flipped the two of you off with chipped, black nails and sauntered back down the hall calling, “not my boyfriend,” as he went.

He left the door wide open.

Tomura almost yelled for him to come back and close it, but you took the silence as an opportunity to start riding him full force and even though you were the one bouncing in his lap, he had to grip your waist and hold on for the ride.

Fucking bitch.

Tomura’s fucking bitch.

You held his hand as you walked across campus to the media building in the budding Spring evening. And that was almost as bad as you saying all those pointless, nice things to him.

Cause people looked, like they watched you linking fingers with that creepy guy in their classes or from the dining hall, and you walked swinging his hand in yours the whole way like it didn’t fucking matter.

Didn’t even occur to you that everyone on campus would know now that the hot chick they saw walking around was with him.

But all those imaginary eyes seemed to melt away as you dragged him behind you, down the old path you both used to take everyday after working in the library. Along the worn concrete sidewalk to the ‘secret door’ in the alley that was perpetually propped open with a copy of the Manifesto, taking two flights of stairs down to the basement and following the soft blue glow to the unofficial layer of The League.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after your both walked through the door.

Tomura recognized most of the people there as friends you introduced him to. You’d met them all through classes or through other friends, forming a close knit group of everyone who knew everyone which was apparent from the way they all cheered when you walked in.

He suddenly was reminded why he never came to shit like this. Not that people were scrambling to invite Tomura Shigaraki to their parties, but his skin itched even when the eyes never focused on him.

Across the room Spinner, the other co-leader of the club, who he knew the best out of everyone, waved at him, and Tomura nodded back. His eyes quickly picked Dabi out of the crowd, leaning off in the corner with a red cup in hand, forehead pushed up against his blond boyfriend’s. Keigo was apparently a reluctant member of the other gaming club on campus—cause of course there was a demand for fucking two—the president of which knew Spinner and who, of course, knew you, which led to Tomura’s asshole, sometimes voyeur roommate being invited along.

Fucking social circles were so needlessly complicated.

Tomura vaguely recognized the other blond guy in the room—Jin was his name? Maybe?—enough to pick his wild, sandy hair out of the crowd, tucked off to the side of the table laden with shitty vending machine snacks. He had his arm slung around someone Tomura had never met before, talking with another short blond girl he didn’t know and Jin’s roommate, Magne. He patted himself on the back for remembering two out of the four names. He also remembered Jin worked at the library, though he hated it, and had been tangentially responsible for hooking the two of you up in that study room, your study room.

Tomura nodded at Jin too as he saw the two of you walk in and enthusiastically shouted some greetings and only one profanity. A new record for him.

Someone else Tomura hadn’t been introduced to shouted from the floor by the gaming set up as Spinner punched the air in triumph in the glow of the victory screen.

“I’m gonna grab us some drinks,” you whispered to him, and he let go of your hand reluctantly, watching as you stopped, doling out hugs to everyone—excluding Dabi—as you went.

He looked around, cast adrift without you to hold him to the dock of social interaction.

It was clear he’d have to find a backup person to cling to for the remainder of the night if you were just gonna fucking abandon him for your friends.

Though Tomura did his best to not be all that salty about it. The residual anger melted a little bit as he watched Magne bear hug you off the floor so hard your back popped. It was only when he felt a hand on his shaking shoulder that Tomura realized he’d been laughing at the spectacle.

Spinner flashed him a toothy smile, arms crossed and watching intently as you pretended to gasp in a breath when Magne finally dropped you from her massive arms.

“Hey man,” he said, wild hair the color of those weird unicorn drinks from that cafe you liked sticking up on end. “How’s it going?”

Tomura shrugged, unsure how to respond without you to fill in the unmediated gaps in conversation.

“Fine, I guess.”

Spinner was not who he would have chosen to hang with all night. Yeah, he knew him the best, but Tomura sorta got the vibes your roommate lowkey hated his fucking guts. And while no one would say he was the master at interpersonal relationships, Tomura could fucking tell when someone didn’t like him. Most of his life till now had been spent in a constant state of snide side eyes and fake politeness.

Maybe that’s why he used to find you so fucking off putting.

But you were different now. He knew you meant all that bullshit. Spinner just wasn’t as good at pretending as he thought he was.

“Nice,” Spinner acted as though he didn’t notice the edge in Tomura’s tone. Or he was just fucking stupid. “I’m glad you guys actually came tonight, I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

He chuckled a bit to soften the blow of that last part, rubbing his neck and smiling sheepishly. Tomura didn’t return the gesture.

“Yeah,” he said simply, kicking at the scuffed linoleum with his sneakers.

He very much wished that you hadn’t tied his hair back so he could hide his face away from Spinner’s stare.

“Listen bro,” that pink head ducked down to catch Tomura’s eye, looking a little bit more guilty now than before. “I know I’ve been kind of a dick lately—and I already talked with them,” he gestured to you, currently pouring some awful, glittery concoction into Jin’s mouth as the smaller blond girl clapped beside you. “But I was just sort of ‘going through it’ for awhile and, well it doesn’t fucking matter, anyway sorry for being such an asshole...”

Tomura’s mouth got dry like it did whenever you hugged him in public or said you liked his eyes. The words drifted around in his head, spitting back error codes as they swirled.

He honestly couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever apologized to him. And he never knew what to say in normal conversation, much less fucking this. Spinner kept looking at him expectantly, but as the silence dragged on, Tomura watched his face falter just a bit.

And that made him feel even worse.

Fuck.

What would you say? Something nice??

“Don’t worry about it,” he blurted—which really was your catchphrase, but he was sure you wouldn’t mind him borrowing it.

“Thanks bro,” Spinner grinned again, this eyes closed, thin lipped thing that made Tomura feel hot just looking into the glow of it. “We’re cool yeah?”

He couldn’t see you, but he could feel that disgusting, proud stare you got every time he elected to order both your drinks when you went out or asked for extra ketchup on his own.

“Whatever, yeah,” Tomura scratched absently at his throat and Spinner jerked his head over to the gaming setup. The Smash music was drifting softly out of twin speakers.

“Wanna play a round?” he asked.

Tomura glanced quickly over at you, now watching as Jin attempted to juggle some of the small snack bags and Magne tossed more flying chips into the mix.

Yeah, you’d probably be awhile.

“...sure.”

It was halfway through the round—in which Tomura was goddamn slaughtering Spinner’s Kirby—that you finally wandered back over to him, two red cups in hand and a few bags of stolen Chex mix.

You set them both down on the small coffee table—also ‘donated’ from the theater department—and plopped next to him on the couch. Spinner growled from the floor, the other club president—The Commission apparently, who the fuck was coming up with these names?—sat kneeled behind him, hands on his shoulders and shouting words of encouragement.

The adrenaline of the fight rushing through him increased exponentially when you gripped his bicep and added your voice to the din.

“Fuck yeah, baby! Kick his fucking ass!”

“Oh wow,” Spinner yelled back. “Now I see where your fucking loyalties lie.”

“Has nothing to do with loyalty,” you laughed. “I just want to see you eat shit for once.”

“Should have come to the big tournament then!” The Commission president chuckled too, looking over their shoulder with a grin.

“Damn, now I’m really sorry I missed it,” you swung your legs up onto the cushions only to tuck them up under yourself as you stared down at the couch. “Ew what the hell is this stain?”

The Commission president was suddenly very much not looking back at you anymore, Tomura noticed. Spinner, at your comment, choked on his fucking spit, not quite dodging Tomura fast enough and tumbling straight off the map.

As Tomura’s character flashed first on the screen you cheered and gripped his face, landing a quick, wet smack of a kiss straight to his fucking lips. Spinner and his friend groaned in unison and there was a chorus of friendly disgust from everyone else gathered around watching.

He could care less.

The air felt strangely alive, people’s gazes flitting over him as though he were part of the scenery. But in a good way this time. Not the purposeful overlooking of his existence, not as though he were an accessory to the room, but a crucial part of it. Like there might be an empty space they would notice if he wasn’t occupying it.

Like he belonged attached to your hand or your hip or just on his own, playing games and drinking shitty juice and laughing at whatever weird as fuck thing Jin shouted at unprompted, random intervals.

Everyone remained gathered by the monitor as you selected your character to face off against him in the next round.

“I’m gonna...” you growled, coming in with an impressive attack and backing out of range, a move signature of yours, “suck your fucking dick!”

“I’m gonna fucking suck yours first, bitch,” he retorted and Magne offered up a kind “hell yeah” in support.

Her large fist came into view over his shoulder, which he found himself bumping against his own without a second thought.

The music filled his ears, the shouting voices no longer suffocating, but adding to the thrum in his chest—the same beat that had his lips pulled up in a smile which ached in his cheeks, but it didn’t matter.

The burn in the cracking skin around his lips and eyes was inconsequential. His face bare of the usual curtains of hair was turned up towards the screen in full display.

He watched you, silhouetted in the blue like of the monitor, saw the figures of your friends gather close around him, engulfing him like an ameba, adding Tomura in as another cell to this new organism.

He breathed.

And felt alive.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tw mysoginy #tomura x dabi #shigadabi #bee.talks

[luveline]

summer shower [Fred Weasley x reader]

Summary: Fred makes your asthma play up.

Tags: reader-insert, fluff, friends-to-lovers, pining, mutual pining

word count: 1.3k

When you were just turning 21 years old, you met a boy. He was in his third year to your second of university, funny as could be, and beautiful.

Fred Weasley was a man of many secrets, which you'd come to accept the longer you'd known him. You had no idea where he was from, where his parents lived, or even if he had any family. You didn't know where he'd gone to school before this. You certainly didn't know why he liked pumpkin pie so much!

There were many things you did know.

His eyes turned from brown to almost black in the sun, superheated and lovely. He squinted one eye against the sun when you lounged in the courtyards in an endearing attempt to always keep an eye on your face. He never crushed flowers when he walked and he always trapped spiders in a cup with a piece of card instead of killing them, seeming endlessly bemused at the small creatures.

It was a warm summers day. You were trying your hardest not to smile as he lay in the grass. Your friends had all departed, claiming headaches and essays that needed to be submitted, though you thought these were all just white lies to allow you some alone time.

It didn't matter. No amount of free time would finish the game between the two of you. Well, you hoped it was a game: Fred pretended he didn't fancy you and you pretended you didn't fancy him.

You shared a tenderness with him that was unlike any relationship in your life.

He was smirking up at you.

"What?" You asked, pouting playfully.

"You look like you're trying to solve world hunger," he said through a grin.

You shook your head, fixing your gaze back down on the book in your lap.

"Maybe one day," you said without looking up.

Fred laughed. It was a perfect laugh, infectious and happy. You smiled despite your best efforts not to.

The pages were thin between your fingers, almost a thousand condensed into a 3 inch textbook for your course. The tip of your pencil rested against the page, though sometimes it felt appropriate to bring it to your mouth, contemplative. Fred watched silently as you underlined and questioned the subject, only quirkiness an eyebrow as your frustration became obvious.

"I don't understand," you admitted finally, "how that is relevant to anything. Look at this!"

You poked your pencil angrily at the figure in question. Fred's eyebrows creased as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Doll, you know I don't understand a lick of it."

You sighed, closing the textbook mournfully. It didn't surprise you that Fred couldn't understand, you couldn't understand and you were actually taking the course for the last two and a half years. He was doing a completely different subject.

You threw yourself down flat, much too close to where Fred himself lay on the grass, knocking the air out of your lungs. You tried not to get too wound up, worried any agitation would cause a flare up.

You'd had a very bad asthma attack only a few days ago and had spent a day or two feeling very fragile and sorry for yourself. You didn't want a repeat.

The grass was cold and a little damp from the early morning dew.

You nibbled at your lip, searching the sky for something it couldn't give.

Fred was watching you.

"Oh my god! What do you want, you hooligan?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You looked at me."

"You were looking at me!"

"Doesn't sound true. Falsehoods of such a nature are unkindly and uncouth."

"You're uncouth!"

"Yeah?" Fred asked, eyes hot.

Your mouth dried up. He was especially tempting like this, looking all homegrown and hand spun. His hair was lightened by the sun cover, strawberry blonde against his tanned and freckled face. Tanned now only after months of suffering sun burn miserably.

"I know what you're thinking." He said. You paid close attention to his mouth.

"Which is?"

"How did I get to be so devilishly handsome? Honestly, it's a question I ask myself often."

You withheld the urge to turn your face into the earth and scream.

He wasn't entirely wrong. You had been thinking about his good looks.

"How did you know?" You asked. You'd tried for bravado, for sarcasm, but it came out wrong. A little too sincere. You cleared your throat.

Fred pushed up onto an elbow so that he was looking down into your face. He studied the slope of your nose and the laugh lines you'd slowly gathered since meeting him. He reached forward, too slowly, to place the pads of his fingers gently on your cheek. You could pinpoint the exact moment he rested his palm on your skin.

He smiled gently. You beamed.

"Can I ask you something?"

You tried to read his face, preemptively guess the question.

"When do you ask my permission?"

"It's the kind of thing that requires two consenting parties."

Your mouth quirked into a waiting grin. Fred's ears grew red.

"Not that."

"Fred Weasley, embarassed. Somebody call the news."

He didn't answer, pushing the hair out of your face in a repetitive motion that sent tingles down your spine and a hot flush to your tummy.

You tried not to read into it, closing your eyes against the waves of excitement and happiness roiling through you. You didn't permit yourself to think of what it meant, because what else could it mean? Friends don't do the things you both did. Friends didn't gaze down into your face with unspoken feelings.

You lay there for some time, the excitement slowly turning to bone deep contentment, feeling yourself drift into an almost sleep. The breeze was soft and sweet, the ground beneath you cushioned by grass, and the handsome man hovering above you only sweetened the deal.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm," you said, tilting your chin to prompt him to continue.

"Will you look at me a second?

You opened your eyes obligingly.

"I wanted to ask you, do you -"

He cut himself off, peering up into the sky. You frowned, only to feel the unwelcome spatter of heavy sudden rain drops on your face.

You gasped, rushing to collect all of your things into your bag. Your textbook was already dampening by the time you'd fit it all. Fred pulled you up and began to run. You followed, laughing and struggling to be heard over the summer shower.

By the time you reached his dorm building, both of you were breathing hard. Fred said something through a laugh. You struggled to answer, hands on your knees.

"Y/N?"

Despite having asthma all your life and suffering many attacks, each time felt just as urgent and scary as the first.

Your eyes filled with tears.

"You're okay! You're okay. Where's your pump, huh? In your bag?"

He didn't wait for an answer, reaching into your bag as you gasped, though insistent on leaving one arm on your arm. The pressure was reassuring.

You tried to manage your breathing as you always did, gasping and gasping and gasping.

"Here, princess. Open up," Fred said.

You covered the hand he held your inhaler with your own, clamping down on his hand so hard you could feel the fine bones under his skin.

It took a while for you to settle down, thought this attack wasn't anywhere as bad as the one you'd had days ago.

"My hero," you coughed out, lungs aching.

Fred grimaced. "I'll always rescue you, my femme fatale."

"Misogynist."

"You have paper lungs, my love."

"That I do, Freddie. That I do."

Fred rubbed your back, insisting on carrying you up the steps to his dorm room. If you acted much more frail than you felt, it was nobodies business but yours and Fred's.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #x reader #reader insert #friends to lovers #mutual pining #harry potter imagine