[lavenderovercast]

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masterlist || guidelines || other links request status: semi-open. current fandoms: MHA, TLoZ, RDR, Gravity Falls, Resident Evil banner // blog graphic credits: @cafekitsune

[lavenderovercast]

Im not 100% what the guidelines are because the link just wouldn’t work for me 🥲 but could I request some Toshinori x reader fic? Maybe a “movie night” with Toshi getting more and more bold with his touches? I just love the idea of him being as nervous as I am about making a move but doing it anyways 🥹

MOVIE NIGHT summary: you and toshinori have been dating for a little while now, but neither of you have had the courage to progress things... until toshinori takes some initiative. relationship(s): toshinori yagi x GN!reader warnings: suggestive content, MDNI! word count: A/N: hi anon! i am SO sorry for the delay on this one + the messy links. i had an incredibly shitty winter and have been on a hiatus from anything that isn't work for months now //sob w/ that said, i hope to be getting back into the swing of things and that you'll see this!! it's such a cute suggestion, thank you <3

Although Toshinori is the former symbol of peace, he cannot sit here and call himself a brave man. Not when his hands are clammy and shaky because his pretty partner is sitting next to him. Little does he know, you're feeling the same way. He's a distracting presence for you, how can he not be?

Your body seems to be a perfect mold against his own. The fabric of his shirt is soft, the blanket on top of you a comforting weight, and the scent of his cologne as intoxicating as his presence. But you're just as nervous as he is, so progression of the night is a standstill.

But tonight, something is different. Maybe it's because you're in the privacy of his own apartment, or the intimate bubble created by you and him underneath the blanket, cuddled up like this.

It's perfect. It's terrible. He wants more contact with your skin, to be close. To hold, to kiss, to watch your face as he finds the most sensitive parts of you and —

He isn't the type of man to think like this, not usually. It's not that Toshinori doesn't know how to take initiative, because he certainly does. You can't be a hero without being able to, after all. But with you? It's hard. He's like jelly to your every whim, wish and desire.

Toshinori is simply not the type of man who wants to make you uncomfortable. He wants to bend to you, to worship you. The thought consumes him often, even now — especially now, when he glances over at you. He swears that you glanced his way, and he wonders if your attention is as divided as his. "Are you okay, Toshi?" The question is a check-in that makes his heart jump into his throat. He nods his head slowly, swiping his clammy palms against his pants. You have a way of making him feel like a clumsy teenager, he can't help but muse.

"I'm... A little distracted by you." He manages, turning his body slightly toward your own. Your eyebrows lift in surprise, your cheeks flushing with a rosy pink before your lips curve into a smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Toshinori breathes out, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “You are… Um. Very close. And very…”

The blonde trails off as you lean closer. You lift a hand, hesitating before placing it on his chest with a small smile. Your face is a bright red, and Toshinori is sure that he isn’t far behind on looking the same. His cheeks burn and his heart pounds in his chest. He wants to hold you closer.

So he does. He moves his hand from where it had been resting on your waist at a respectful distance, to the hem of your shirt. His fingers fidget nervously with the fabric. And then they continue, a slow roam that makes your breath catch. Toshinori has big hands, and seeing the way that they go over your side and toward your thigh…

It’s beautiful, it undoes your own anxiety. Maybe not to the extent that others would feel, but enough to lean forward and kiss him, soft and slow. He reciprocates, his hand trailing from your thigh to your ass. The former hero’s hand moves over the fabric, exploring the space of your body he hasn’t had the nerve to touch until now.

The kiss is soft and slow, easy and natural compared to the exploration of his hand against your body. It’s a rhythm that helps you to both relax, that makes you eager for more of him. When you eventually part, lips swollen and breathing uneven, Toshinori looks dazed… In a good way.

"Is... This okay?" Toshinori asks sheepishly, his face still feeling very warm. His large hands have stilled their roaming, but you want more. So you move your body without thinking, clambering onto his lap with an enthusiastic nod. Toshinori, for his part, looks extremely flustered. "Oh.. Oh my..." "More than okay." You interrupt the start of his nervous stammering. Settling your weight across his lap, you smile as you lean forward. Your lips press against his, and suddenly, the movie is abandoned in favor of soaking in the way that his hands run up your sides and explore the skin underneath your shirt.

[lavenderovercast]

Lights, Camera, Action

summary: you've always been a nervous soul, especially when it comes to the more intimate parts of life. fortunately, nemuri has a solution to help you. relationship(s): nemuri kayama (midnight) x shy GN!reader word count: 2.1k words warnings: !! 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI !! notes: a collab work with @honeyandberryjuice for our kinktober prompt list!!!

You have always known Nemuri to be a bold, brave kind of woman. Everything that you’re not — flashy, daring, eccentric, loud, unafraid to speak and be heard. So when you asked her to help you overcome some of your shyness, to help you feel a little more bold… A sex tape shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it was, because who thinks a sex tape will fix anxiety? Nemuri, apparently. 

“We don’t need to share it with anyone but ourselves.” Nemuri assures you with a smile as she prepares the cameras. “Which I don’t mind one bit. Call me selfish, but… I’d like to keep your delicious body to myself.” The dark-haired woman’s smile turns into a full on grin, hungry and eager. The sight is as intimidating as it is attractive. 

“I dunno…” You mumble, glancing down at your hands in your lap. You fidget with your fingers and fight the urge to grimace. “I just— I don’t think I’ll look all that good, Nemuri. Especially compared to you. And what if I hate it? Or what if we do share it and other people hate it?” The thought makes a lump form in your throat. The thought of rejection and backlash is terrifying. 

“That’s why we keep it to ourselves, at least for now… And as for the rest of those worries,” Nemuri walks toward you now, clearly satisfied with the camera set-up. You can see the red light flash to indicate that the device is recording, but Nemuri gives you no chance to react as she works her way onto the bed, crawling toward you and closing the space with a voice that sounds all too close to an eager purr. 

She looks like a big cat ready to devour you whole, and you fully believe that she will. Nemuri has an insatiable appetite, after all. Who can blame her? She’s pretty, and again, everything you’re not. Even patient as she bridges the gap between the pair of you, her warm fingers cupping your face to make you look her in the eye. 

“Well. I intend to fuck them right out of you, my dear.” Nemuri tells you, like this is just a fact, like the sky is blue and you should have always known it. She’s so certain, and she’s so confident with the way that she stares at you, your face grows warm.

The thought of her fucking anything of yours makes you feel queasy with both excitement and nervousness. It isn’t like you have never had sex before — you have experience, but a part of you also doesn’t feel like you’re experienced enough for the sheer intensity that seems to swim in Nemuri’s gaze. Nobody has ever looked at you like that, with a greedy hunger bordering on starvation that can only be quenched after she has you shivering and calling her name.

You begin to feel a throb between your thighs, a sign that tells you, despite your apprehensiveness, that you are really into the idea.

Your hair feels like it’s standing on end just from the energy in the room. You don’t have anything witty or sexy to say back to her, but instead raise your own hand to hold one of those cupping your face. Your cheeks feel horribly hot underneath her skin, but you find enough courage to lean forward to plant a feather light kiss on her lips. Nemuri kisses you back softly as if in encouragement, and you’re grateful for the grace she’s giving you.

The kiss deepens naturally, with Nemuri parting your mouth with her tongue. Her breath is hot, which sends ripples across your skin. Her hands leave your face to tangle in your hair, and while your own are shaky, you place them around her waist. You can feel the muscles underneath her clothes, and you don’t understand why you’re so surprised that they’re there — she has a fantastic body, which she’s never hesitant to show off. You suppose you might be similar if you had the same physique.

Your thoughts don’t have much time to wander before she’s gently pushing you onto your back, the softness of the mattress enveloping you. You’re unsure if that’s why you feel like you’re floating, or if it’s just because of how good a kisser she is. Her hands roam your body and you can’t help but do the same, noting that she is curvy in all the right places, her skin supple and tempting you to grab it. Your eyebrows furrow for a split second as you feel her teeth nip your lip, and you’re embarrassed as a moan escapes you.

This gives you a moment of respite, because you’re pretty sure that you’re about to pass out from the hammering of your pulse in your ears. Nemuri takes advantage of it too, rubbing her thumb along your bottom lip, swollen from the kissing. She stares down at it before catching your gaze once more, “You’re a gorgeous little thing, making such pretty sounds.” She hums, as if musing on something. “You aim to undo me, don’t you?”

You blanch at this statement. You undoing her? It very much felt like the exact opposite, your head still swimming and foggy with desire. It was pitiful, really — you were acting like you were a virgin, as if you’d never been kissed before. Yet, you’ve never felt anything like this before. A part of you hates yourself for never asking for her help sooner. If you had known you were going to be kissed like that, you would never have sought any other method.

Another part of you is astonished by just how confident Nemuri is, so sure of herself while saying something that feels so contradictory to her current demeanor. Above you, the woman seems so calm and confident as her hands begin to roam and explore you, like you were made for her touch. You find yourself jerking into her fingertips, skin tingly and pliable underneath her capable hands. 

“I wonder how you’ll sound after we truly begin…” Nemuri mumbles, her voice low with arousal in a way that makes a shiver rush up your spine. Your nerves raise as Nemuri implies going even further with this, which you knew was going to happen, of course, but you’ve barely begun and you already feel this affected by her actions. You’re very much certain that you’re going to fall apart when you feel the tip of her strap brush against you. 

You’re grateful for the steps that you had taken to prepare earlier, before beginning your recording. Nemuri had been loosely involved and helped to guide you through preparing your body properly, but she had encouraged you to try it by yourself for the most part. That fact makes it easy for the tip to slip in, a harsh gasp leaving your mouth as you feel yourself stretch and accommodate Nemuri’s strap. 

“That’s it sweetness,” Nemuri nearly giggles from above you. “You’re doing wonderful so far. Such a good pet for me, aren’t you?” Nemuri coos, her voice so sweet in spite of how sinfully she begins to fill you. Your body feels alight with need as you shift your arms to cling to her, wanting as close as she’ll allow. You find yourself biting your lip to keep your noises to a minimum, but this is an action that Nemuri doesn’t seem keen on allowing.

Your mouth opens into a wide ‘O’ as Nemuri’s hips suddenly snap fully against your own, causing a moan to erupt from you at full volume. The woman is quick to slip two of her fingers into your mouth, fingers that you find yourself instinctively and eagerly sliding your tongue and teeth against. 

“Ah ah ah pet,” Nemuri coos from above you as she moves her hips, filling you in a way that has your heart racing in your chest. “I want to hear every noise that you have for me and the camera. Who knows if I’ll ever have you underneath me like this again?” 

If your mouth wasn’t full and your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would eagerly tell the woman that she could have you whenever the hell she wanted. Instead, you whine and arch your hips into the cock that’s nearly pushed fully inside of you. You feel warm, full and pleasant — fuzzy around the edges of your mind and tingling all across your skin and insides. You feel that drool is beginning to collect on and around Nemuri’s fingers and your mouth, but you don’t care. 

With her hips now fully pressed against you, the woman stills before slowly pulling out. You whine and squirm, trying to chase after her to the best of your abilities. This time, Nemuri does giggle as she looks down at you, expression absolutely ravenous. You think you could die happy if she decided to eat you alive at this very moment. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be getting plenty more tonight, my dearest.” Nemuri purrs as she stops before she’s pulled out fully, and then her hips snap against yours again, and this time you cry out with want. The pleasure is monumental, and the feeling of her cock fully inside of you again has tears welling in your eyes. Nemuri is happy to wipe them from your cheeks with her hand covered in your drool, smiling sweetly. The feel of your own ecstasy rubbed into your skin causes your nipples to harden.

“I bet it feels good, doesn’t it? You look so perfect like this. You sound so perfect like this. You’re going to be the death of me.” The woman whispers into your ear, breath brushing against your warm, sensitive skin. A part of you thinks she must be part siren or something, because you truly would do whatever the hell she told you to if she kept sending waves of pleasure through you.

You don’t even have the capacity to think coherently, the pleasure rocking your body. Your words get tied in the back of your throat, and your tongue feels thick. Despite your efforts, this reaction doesn’t seem good enough for Nemuri, her mouth parting as she stares down at your desperate face, gaze burning onto every inch of your skin. It dawns on you that her plan had worked — you don’t shy away from the intensity of her stare, but rather shudder as a tingle shoots up your spine.

There’s a new roughness in her voice when she speaks next. “I want you to say it. Tell me how good you feel.” She commands. Her hand grips into your skin, an addictive sting that reverberates through you.

You nod, swallowing. Your tone is wobbly, but you’re also eager for her to continue with what she was doing before. All thoughts about the cameras, and a possible audience, are free from your mind when you manage to get out, “It feels amazing, Nemuri.” Your thighs tremble as if in agreement. You squirm a little underneath her, trying to spur her back into action. “Why did you stop?” You don’t even feel any shame when the question comes out whiny and desperate.

The woman quirks an eyebrow, her eyes glittering with a smile. “Eager little cutie.” She gives you a long, drawn-out stroke as if it is a reward. A shuttering moan escapes you, hands gripping into the sheet beneath you. You have to remember how to breathe. It’s hard to focus on much of anything with Nemuri filling you the way that she is, a devious smile on her face as she rocks her hips back. You can feel that coil in your stomach, turning and shifting and burning with need before it snaps like a thread being undone. 

A noise that doesn’t quite sound like it’s coming from you rips from your mouth, foreign but not unpleasant to your ears. Your body has arched on its own, trying desperately to keep close proximity to Nemuri. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you can see darkness overcoming the edges of your vision. You come down from the high of your orgasm slowly, limbs numb and shaky. 

Nemuri is no longer above you, having pulled out and snuggled up to your side. You feel warm and fuzzy as she wraps an arm around you, pulls you closer to her as though neither of you are sticky with sweat. She giggles as she kisses your forehead, smooth fingers rubbing against your skin in an assuring manner. You feel comfortable, safe, your fear of the cameras turned on temporarily forgotten in favor of leaning into her. “You did so good, my dearest. Let’s get you cleaned up and some hot cocoa, hm?” 

“That sounds good.” You mumble sleepily, a content smile on your face. 

[cafekitsune]

MDNI BANNERS | pink purple.

( requested by → @satans-codpiece )

we have the galaxy dividers inspired by the bi flag colours and now we have the matching mdni banners ! woo ! pink-purple combo is still one of my faves ever 🤍

please like, reblog, and credit 〜

support me through ko-fi | more mdni banners →

[honeyandberryjuice]

Rooftops & Reckoning

KINKTOBER PROMPT 1, BEGGING collab with @lavenderovercast

summary: you've always disliked hawks. or, well, you've always been jealous of him. it's after a mission that your hatred finally comes to a head, and you finally get the upper hand. relationship(s): keigo takami (hawks)/reader words: 3.6k warning(s): 18+, !! MINORS DNI !!

author's note: prompt 1 is finished, baby!! this one got a little difficult at the end, but at the risk of writing an entire novel, we thought that'd be a good place to end. maybe we'll do a part 2 if enough people want it ;) tags: sub!hawks; dom!reader; reader is a pro-hero; professional rivals turned lovers; hawks gets his smug smirk wiped off his face; begging; lots & lots of teasing; edging on public sex i guess; they're fornicating on a rooftop so like you know; porn without plot

 It has been some time now since first meeting the pro-hero named Hawks, and you can’t help but feel intense feelings of dislike. He comes across as so fickle, despite everything that you’ve heard about him through other heroes and citizens which argue the opposite. You know that he is a good multi-tasker, the type of hero that doesn’t seem too overwhelmed by anything. Yet, he never takes anything seriously, everything he says tinged with an undertone of teasing and playfulness.

 It irritates you to no end.

 Your rise to pro-hero status hasn’t been an easy one, with most people being scared of your quirk, painting it as villainous. You can literally get anyone to do anything you want with a simple command, after all. That, along with the whispered accusations that you have used her quirk to acquire your success in the first place, means that you have to take every situation as seriously as possible. You can’t go throwing around how amazing your quirk is, or how easily you complete your missions, for fear that it would come across as too cavalier. A trait that, in the media’s eyes, is too closely linked to villains.

 Yet Hawks — the vain, immature hero that had been handed his position on a silver platter by the Commission — gets away with flaunting his skills, the play-boy act, the nepo-baby. Insults slide over him like droplets of rain, never seeming bothered by anything or anyone.

 You want nothing more than to put him in his place.

 Perhaps that opportunity would present itself sometime in the very near future, as the pair have just finished a mission without much difficulty. It had taken a simple ‘Wait’ command from you to cause the villain to stop right in their tracks, and Hawks had swooped in to efficiently separate and imprison the remaining foes.

 The leisure of which the winged-man handles your opponents is frustrating to witness. There’s that stupid, smug smile on his face as he stands perfectly still after his landing, a flurry of red feathers dancing through the air in a display that can only be considered overstimulating. But they stop within seconds, leaving the criminals unconscious and bound. You would be impressed if, again, the sight of the quirk’s handler wasn’t so annoying. 

 Hawks moves towards you with the pace of a man who has all the time in the world. He does not live up to his reputation of being the man who’s supposedly too fast for his own good. Not with the way he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets before settling by your side, head tilting in a way that makes his windswept hair look even more messy and out of sorts than usual. He looks unprofessional and irritating at his finest, continuing to act like this is all some big game. 

 “I put in a call to the nearest police force, but they’ll probably be a second.” He explains with a shrug, and the irritation that has settled into your chest feels like a hot brand. That’s just fantastic — you’ll have to spend more time with this irritating son of a… “Guess they’ve got a kaiju quirk nearby that they’re still handling.” 

 “Okay.” You mutter, a huff of air following the single word statement. Trying to soothe your rising annoyance, you glance around your rooftop surroundings in the hope that the cityscape will bring you some peace. You find the night to be pretty after all, even if thinking about the general pollution of the city makes it less enjoyable. The lights coming off of nearby buildings and street lamps are pretty, at least. 

 “So… Another mission with me, huh?” Hawks’ voice creeps up beside you like a fly you can’t get out of your room, and you’re almost grateful for your discipline because it stops you from audibly groaning. “Must be feelin’ pretty lucky to work with me again.” He teases in that goddamn voice, and you’ve had it up to here with him. 

 The anger building within you feels hot and clammy on your skin, tingling around your shoulders before settling in the nape of your neck. Every word that comes out of the man’s mouth sends ripples of annoyance through your aching muscles, and despite all the anger management practice you have completed throughout the years, it doesn’t fizzle away like usual. Instead, it spreads over your neck, through your jugular where your pulse quickens furiously, and you clench your jaw as your teeth begin to ache.

 You don't even have time to irritably clench your fists before you’re reaching out instinctively, grabbing Hawks by the fluffy collar of his jacket, eyes blazing fiercely into his. You are now standing face-to-face, noses almost touching. “Lucky is the last word I’d use.” Your tone is sharp, nipping, slicked with venom. The thundering of your heart fills your chest, your ears. It’s the only thing you can hear, other than the sound of your laboured breathing.

 The man’s eyes widen at the grip you have near his throat, breath hitching almost inaudibly. A few seconds pass, Hawks’ gaze flickering between your eyes and then down to your mouth, like he was afraid you were about to savage him. You think that finally, finally this chicken will know that you’re serious business — that he better start treating you more sincerely. But the man’s mouth only quirks into a small smirk, leaning in even closer to whisper. “Okay, sweetheart. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

 You blink, dumbfounded. Panties? Instantly, you’re overcome with disgust. Your fist unfurls from the fabric, shoving him away. Of course, he doesn’t even so much as stumble, all balance and poise, hands raised as if in surrender. Have you ever seen him affected by anything? You send a sneer his way, wrinkling your nose. Why was he so goddamn persistent? Always hovering, never too far, breathing over your neck? 

 A shiver runs down your spine as you force yourself to look away from the man, body rigid. Maybe you could talk to the agency and request a new partner — one that didn’t constantly chirp in your ear and threaten cardiac arrest from an ever-quickening pulse.

 If the man is deterred by your words, he doesn’t show it. His expression hasn’t faltered in the slightest, though his hands do go up to fix his collar, refluffing up the white fur edging it. You think that you may finally get some peace, already thinking about your next warm cup of coffee, when he speaks up again. “So, anyway. What are you up to later? I figured maybe we could go catch a drink or somethin’.” You have to fight all urges to visibly roll your eyes.

 Apparently, you don’t do a very good job at concealing your irritation with the pretty blonde. He has the audacity to smile at you in your peripheral vision, his lips crooked and boyish and oh so punchable. “What’s with the sour look on your face? I’m bein’ genuine here. I’d like to buy you a drink, and… Maybe some other things.” 

 Flustered by his blatant lack of professionalism, you allow yourself an agitated huff of air as you side-eye Hawks. A mistake, really, because that feeling of flustered anger comes rushing back to you and all thoughts of your hard-earned coffee are replaced with all of your pent up negativity. “You are unbelievable. Shouldn’t you be focused on our job instead of trying to get into anyone and everyone’s pants?” 

 “Sure, if we had a job to do right now… Our perps are incapacitated, and… Well, hey! I take offense to that last statement.” Hawks crosses his arms over his chest and offers a pout, looking at you like you’ve wounded him in some way. You would feel bad for your unprofessional counter-argument if it had been anyone else. You would apologize if he didn’t grin at you, eyes alight with mischief as he continued with, “It’s only your pants I’m tryin’ to get into, really. But I figure it’s rude to say that before gettin’ to know each other on a more personal level. I try to be a gentleman, ya know?” 

 A wave of emotion overcomes you like a tsunami. Somehow, the idea that Hawks wants to get to know you at all is flattering. He’s always seemed superficial and shallow to you, so the idea that he isn’t just flirting for a quick fling is… Almost appealing. What is not appealing are his methods of going about it, nor his audacity to flirt with you while you’re both working with the claim that the job is done when your targets are right below you. Anything could happen in the precious minutes that you wait for the police force. You could just as easily lose your upper-hand as you had gained it, even if it seems unlikely. 

 It’s Hawks’ inability to understand that some people can’t afford to take risks and opportunities that truly pushes you over the edge. He seems so cool and in control of anything, of everything, that he couldn’t possibly understand the pressure that you’re under. One wrong step, and everything is gone for you. But Hawks is a pretty man with a flashy quirk, so it’s only natural that he gets to do whatever he wants without consequence or consideration for other people. For a hero, he is horribly selfish. For a hero, he makes you act horribly impulsive. 

 Jealousy fills you so intensely it’s like you’re drowning in it. The back of your throat is thick with it, difficult to swallow. You can’t stand one more moment where it feels like Hawks has the upper hand, always aware of every little thing, despite never seeming like he’s paying attention. Maybe it was that need to beat him at his own game, or to control the traitorous butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought of him getting anywhere near your pants, that makes you do what you do next.

 “Quiet.” Your voice is stern, almost vibrating with that distinct pull that you feel whenever you activate your quirk. It thrums within you like a drum, beating along with the rhythm of your pulse. The effect it has on the man is instantaneous, the words that were inevitably ready to spurt out at any moment stopped short. His eyebrows furrow, the permanent smirk pulled down into a soft frown. He doesn’t look angry at all, more so just confused. Maybe he had never expected that you would use your quirk on him.

 A sick sense of power jolts through you then, fizzling its way up your spine. Seeing him so easily give into your quirk is ravishing. You have always thought of him as someone that always beats the odds stacked against him, a man that could brush away anything that stands in his way. This time, that thing is you. It’s wrong to feel like this, to so readily succumb to all your darkest urges. You have longed to put him in his place, right? Why not now, when he was being so subservient?

 Now it was your turn for a smirk to quirk your lip. Yours is not so easily stirred, and there’s something else underlying it. Unlike Hawks’, which presented itself so easily with a friendly, relaxed flair — yours is sadistic, greedy. You have him right where you want him, but you want more.

 The next command is harder, a sharpness glinting at the edges. “Kneel.”

 A small gasp flutters out of the man’s mouth, eyebrows furrowing up as he drops down onto his knees. The air is thick with a crackling tension, and you are unsure if that’s because of the power of your quirk, or something else more twisted and vulgar. You step closer to him, hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of his hair falling onto his forehead, fingernails scratching gently into his scalp.

 Hawks shudders. You think that if he were able to, he would’ve moaned. Your body scorches with heat just at the thought of that. The idea that something as simple as that touch could pull such a reaction out of him makes you feel giddy. You had never known just how much he wants you, and you have always been so overwhelmed by your annoyance towards him that you have never stopped to think of the possibilities before you. Mostly, that you could be the one to undo him. Who was Hawks after he was stripped bare of the things that he paraded around with?

 It’s with these thoughts enveloping your mind that you look back down to the man’s face and your eyes meet. You hold each other’s gazes for a moment, Hawks’ shining with desire, uncertainty and desperation. You stare back at him, ravenous. Fuck, this felt good. The grip you have on his hair grows tighter, pulling it taut. You don’t try to be gentle, your heart bounding in the hollow of your neck. Hawks can’t speak, but his teeth catch onto his bottom lip as if he’s fighting for his life to stop a whimper from escaping. He looks absolutely deplorable. It’s phenomenal. You think this treatment was long overdue and exactly what he needs, even if you do wish to hear just how much he wants you.

 “You’re a lot prettier on your knees and silent like this.” You muse, lips curving further upward as you watch Hawks’ hands shift. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants while he looks up at you with an expression that one can only consider beautifully tortured. You hum as you stare down at the pretty, pathetic man on his knees for you now, carefully considering your options here. Now that you’re the one with the upperhand, there’s plenty that you could do… 

 “Now… If I let you speak again, will you be a good boy and keep from running that tongue of yours?” You question, raising your eyebrows at the vigorous nod of Hawks’ head. The eagerness reminds you of a puppy, and you can’t help but think amusedly that if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now. You don’t fully trust that he won’t go blabbering his mouth off, but you decide to allow him the benefit of the doubt. If only for a moment to enact a new, naughty idea creeping in the corners of your mind. 

 “Speak.” You state simply, fingers still dug tight into the man’s hair and your voice firm. You take great satisfaction in watching the way that his mouth parts in a gasp, teeth no longer dug into his bottom lip. The gasp is followed by a low groan, and his body lurching just slightly further, like he’s trying to lean into the palm of your hand. He peers up at you through his lashes and offers a cocky smile. 

 “So you do want me in your pants, then?” Is the first sentence to slip out of the hero’s mouth. He grins up at you like he’s proud of what he said, no matter how childish. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, the harsh beat of your heart encouraging you to bring the man’s silence back. 

 “You look and sound awfully smug for someone in this position right now.” You inform the blonde, only barely having the heart to offer the man some mercy. 

 Hawks gives a chuckle, breathy and strained in comparison to the usual pitches that you have heard from him in the past. “Hard not to be when a pretty woman is speaking so directly to me.” 

 “Really now? You like being given commands this much? For being the Commission’s golden boy… You’re a filthy dog.” The degradation slips off of your tongue before you can think of what you’re saying. If Hawks minds your words, he doesn’t express it to you at the moment. 

 “Sure am.” Hawks replies with a grin, but you can see it in the flush of his face and the way that his upper body shifts, never moving him from position while he still tries to find a way to be closer to you. He’s desperate and needy, with the sort of hunger that you can feel lighting a fire in your lower belly. If you were anyone else, you would probably be far less composed. You have one of Japan’s top heroes in your grasp, on his knees for you, after all.

 “Stay still.” This time, it’s a command without the use of your quirk. He could ignore it if he really chose to, but with the way that he was looking at you, you doubted he would. Just as you were thinking earlier that he was right where you wanted him, you hadn’t stopped to think that he might be exactly where he wanted to be.

 Your curiosity pushes you to wonder just how much he’d be willing to show just how compliant he really was. How far could you push him until he was gasping for more? A sly smile grows on your face as you move your hand away from his hair to join your other one in sliding across his chest, settling down so you are now eye level with him. The man’s eyes dart down to them, before settling back onto your face as if trying to decipher exactly what you have planned. You don’t say anything as your gaze roams his body, the feel of his muscles bunching under the fabric sending a thrill through your core.

 It’s only natural that your nails dig into his clothes, as if trying to remember every little dip of his skin. There’s something ravishing about being able to feel the potential of what could be underneath, like Hawks was a gift you’d been eyeing up on the days before Christmas, studying the shape and sounds in order to better decipher the treat that lay inside. Your hands roam further and further down, one finger hooking around his belt. You look up at him through your lashes, tongue swiping your teeth, reminiscent of a predator salivating over a delicious morsel.

 Oh, how you’d just love to bite him.

 There’s a slight furrowing of brows threatening to pull at Hawks’ pretty features before you yank on his belt, bringing your two pelvises together, bodies emanating heat. The man’s desire is very clear, the feel of his want bulging through his trousers. It’s as your figures meet that you let out a quiet, shuttering gasp before humming to yourself and biting your bottom lip. Now your own lust, recently brimming under the surface disguised as dislike and annoyance, makes itself known through goose bumps travelling up your thighs. 

 Hawks’ breathing has quickened, the sheer desperation to touch you back presented through his flexing fingers and hot breath. His cheeks are aflame, flushing with a pink that made him look soft and submissive. You know he wants to pull you even closer, if it were even possible, and that thought blazes through your veins like fire. 

 Your hands easily work on unbuckling his belt, leaning forward to give him a slow, lingering lick from his clavicle to his ear lobe. His skin tastes salty, and you can’t help but think of how he must’ve worked up a sweat during the mission. That this must be exactly how he would taste once he is fucking you. Hawks gives a tortured groan once your mouth leaves his skin, a whiny “Fuck,” the only response he can give. It gives you a sick, perverted smugness that he seems to now be at a loss for words. That only fuels your desire to keep him placated.

 Mind now muddled with evident horniness, you reach into the man’s boxers and allow his dick to spring free. You aren’t surprised to find out how well endowed he is (you suppose he is cocky for a reason), and rub the length of him softly, with a feather’s lightness. His breath hitches and he leans his hips forward into your touch, knees still firmly planted on the ground. What a good boy.

 You know you’re teasing him, rubbing him so slowly. Yet you’re alive with power now, watching intently as his face contorts and he starts panting just like the dirty dog you called him only moments before. Every stroke seems to pain him, and his gaze flickers to his hands that he’s kept by his sides since he’d been told to. You arch an eyebrow, as if daring him to act. He has done so well to get this far and stay so obedient — you really had underestimated him.

 “Please,” strains out of his mouth, and despite the circumstances, your own cheeks flush at the sound of it. You can’t believe that he’s begging. Shit, he really does want you.

 You have been cruel so far, and he’s been so good. You figure that good behavior should be rewarded, especially when the hero is willing to make such a pretty sound for you. You give a hum, wrapped fingers squeezing their grasp around his base in a way that has Hawks jerking his hips with a low whine. Your lips quirk into a smile, and you find yourself willing to offer him just the slightest bit of relief by picking up your pace. 

 “What was that?” You practically purr the question, dedicating the picture of Hawks’ painfully pleasured expression to your memory.

 To give him credit where credit is due, he doesn’t complain. Not even a little bit. Instead, the face that usually cracks into a smile and the voice that always has an arrogant lilt, shifts as he bares his teeth and his lip wobbles. The words come out firmer, more definitive, and he gazes into your eyes heatedly. “I said, please.” A pause as he leans forward, mouth skimming yours, “Just please don’t stop.”

[honeyandberryjuice]

Kinktober 2025 Masterlist

writing challenge with @lavenderovercast

okay so i haven’t posted in a while, which i deeply apologise for! this year has been a bit hectic, and while i HAVE been writing, it’s been for more long-form stuff that i’m hoping to upload to my ao3 at some point 🤭

i’m coming back to make a post about kinktober 2025 !!

once again, i’m working with @lavenderovercast on a shared prompt list, which i will list below :) i will link the posts as they're uploaded!

PROMPT 1: Begging (Keigo Takami [Hawks])

PROMPT 2: Sex Tape (Nemuri Kayama [Midnight])

PROMPT 3: Public Sex (Arthur Morgan)

PROMPT 4: Blindfold/Bondage (Shota Aizawa [Eraserhead])

PROMPT 5: Mutual Masturbation (Toshinori Yagi [All Might])

PROMPT 6: Strip Poker (Stan Pines)

PROMPT 7: Overstimulation (Ford Pines)

PROMPT 8: Phone Sex/Feather Play (Keigo Takami [Hawks])

PROMPT 9: Creampie (Arthur Morgan)

PROMPT 10: Double Penetration (Shota Aizawa [Eraserhead] & Hizashi Yamada [Present Mic])

[lavenderovercast]

FINE DINING

summary: shota has an unconventional way of helping you calm your nerves down when you're feeling out of your element at a party. relationships: fem!reader x shota aizawa tags & warnings: !! 18+ CONTENT, MINORS DNI !! established relationship, public sex, cunnilingus // fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, praise kink BABY, u get talked thru it <3 🍑 prefer to read on ao3? well, lookie here! 🍑

While you’re far from shy, you have never been a fan of parties. Not only because they have other people, but because you have to put so much effort into them. Especially when it’s something like a gala or ball, which you have… No experience with. Because of this fact, you’re holed up in some corner with a cocktail in hand and anxiety in your chest.

You smile at the occasional stranger you make eye contact with, but for the most part pray that no one actually notices you or takes the time to talk with you. It feels like your tongue might try to fall out of your mouth if you use it right now. 

Your outfit doesn’t help the situation much, either. It’s a lovely gown, really— with glitter tastefully applied to the fabric in a way that makes the clothing feel dreamy. And you know that you look good in the damned thing too, because the slit down the leg and the sweetheart neckline complimented you wonderfully when you looked in the mirror.

So it’s not a matter of discomfort with your outfit, but rather the fanciness of it all. It doesn’t feel like you belong, try as you might. 

“Nervous?” 

“You could tell?” You ask playfully, eyebrows lifting as you peek up at your husband over the rim of your glass. His lips twitch a little at your question, but he only nods his head in confirmation. 

“Kind of hard not to when I’ve watched you down multiple cocktails now.” He replies, making your smirk drop. Eesh, maybe you should keep track of how much you’re drinking. Or maybe this place just needs better liquor, because this is not helping. You roll your eyes in reply, lips twitching into the tiniest of smiles. 

“Yeah, well,” You mumble into your glass, averting your gaze sheepishly. “I’m not really used to… Any of this.” You make a vague gesturing motion, and then clear your throat before taking another sip of your alcohol. From beside you, Shota gives an acknowledging hum, his expression thoughtful. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Shota states, making your eyebrows raise quizzically. Your expression shows your skepticism, because he offers a smirk as he continues. “Meet me in the restroom. It’s nothing bad, I promise.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, intrigued by the man’s vagueness and mildly concerned as to what he could have in mind. But you trust Shota with your life, so you let your lips quirk up into a little smile as you nod your head. He seems satisfied with your response, slipping away from you. Naturally, you follow after the man— making sure to keep some distance to have some subtlety. 

When you make it to the restroom about a minute after Shota does, you close the door behind you with a gentle ‘click’, looking at the man with curiosity. He’s leaned over the counter now, seemingly fixing up some of the dishevelled strands of his hair. A rare and interesting sight to bear witness to. Before you can comment on the action, though, he catches your gaze in the mirror. 

You smile in return, making your way closer to the man so you can wrap your arms around him. Chest pressed against his back, you tilt your head up with a hum. “So… Are you going to tell me the reason why you’ve brought me into the restroom?” 

Shota gives a hum, as though he’s considering how to answer you. Knowing him, he’s just doing it to prolong whatever amusement he’s taking from your squirming and curiosity. You can see it in the way the corners of his lips subtly curve up, until he shifts so he’s turned to face you. Rough fingers gently grasp your chin before his lips are on yours. 

A soft noise leaves you when he kisses you, your lips tugging into the smallest of smiles against his mouth. You hum, snaking your arms around the man’s neck as your eyes slip closed. You’re not really sure of where this is going, because it’s… Different of Shota to act so affectionately in public.

Well, if you could consider this public, anyway. It’s probably the closest you’re getting to any PDA, and you are perfectly content with that thought.

When your kiss only deepens, his teeth nipping carefully at your bottom lip, is when your suspicion and confusion, with a healthy dose of curiosity, really begins to rise. You’re able to push your suspicions and rising emotions to the back of your mind until you feel yourself being gently backed up.

You give a muffled squeak in surprise when your lower back gently hits the counter, moving a hand from Shota so you can try to stabilize yourself by gripping the edge. 

To be truthful, this position on this counter is awfully familiar to you. Something about Shota has, since very early on in your relationship, seemed to magnetically draw you into the man. To the point that him pressing you up against a counter like this is familiar. There’s a big difference with this time around though, because you’re in public. Shota clearly doesn’t mind this fact, but you want a moment to decide if you do. 

Cold hands brush against his wrists, careful fingers wrapping around them before pulling his hands off of your person. With his hands go his sweet lips and bitter tongue, and as per usual, it’s difficult to convince yourself to stay away from him. Even when you know something is up, and now your suspicions are waving around red flags. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and you can imagine there’s some worry in the way he observes you—as if he’s afraid he’s made you feel uncomfortable. But he’s always had a way of making you feel safe and secure, so you’re blunt with your questioning. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You question, raising your eyebrows at the man. Shota blinks, and then shrugs his shoulders a little. You swear you can see him fighting off a smile, the cheeky bastard he can be. 

“You’re tense,” Shota observes as though you haven’t known the fact for the whole night. “I can help.” 

“In a public bathroom?” You question with a quizzical eyebrow, tilting your head up to look at the man. There’s a mischievous smirk on his face as he nods— cheeky bastard. You feel the skin on your face grow hot as you squint your eyes at him. “You really want to take that risk?” 

“Sure,” He hums nonchalantly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He places a chaste kiss against your skin, and you have to dig your nails into your palms to avoid shivering at the sensation. Shota really does know all the ways to make you melt. “Long as we’re quiet… They won’t even notice we’re gone.” 

You bite your lip, considering the pros and cons of getting frisky in a restroom. There’s a beat of hesitation on your end as you spare a glance to the locked door. The worst that can happen is someone knocks, so… Fuck it, why not. 

“For a hero, you sure like finding trouble.” You mumble playfully, your own lips tilting up into a smile before your gaze drifts to Shota’s lips. Those familiar feelings of love and want come hurtling back into your chest, and you find yourself leaning forward on your tiptoes. All so you can wrap your arms around the man’s neck and tilt your head up to him. Shota looks amused. 

“Mmm, only with you.” Is his mumbled response, and you can’t help flashing a grin before pressing your lips to his. With the urgency he was displaying earlier, you’re pleasantly surprised by the gentleness the man expresses as he leans into you, lips moving carefully against your own. The faint taste of alcohol and mint floods your tongue. In any other situation, you’d joke about the mint. 

The kiss is over as quickly as it’s started. Shota’s breath is hot against your skin as he presses his face into your neck, where you can feel him smiling against your now clammy skin. Adrenaline is beginning to pump through your veins, and you’d be a liar if you said that you weren’t very interested in doing this now. Any anxiety that you might still have is thrown out of your mind when Shota begins to kiss your neck. 

It takes him no time at all to find the sweet spot that has your fingers digging into the edge of the counter, your breath catching at the little sparks that flitter across your skin. You can hear a deep chuckle rumble from the man, but he doesn’t say anything as he focuses on leaving little hickies and marks across your previously unblemished skin. Unfortunately, this is a fact that you aren’t dwelling on. 

No, instead, you focus on the fact that his hands have wandered to your hips to pick you up and place you on the counter. Your legs dangle off the edge, but the surface seems stable enough. Shota’s hands are quick to wander from your hips to your thighs, a satisfied noise coming from him as his mouth comes off of your neck. 

You feel the dress being pulled up by Shota’s careful hands, and suck in a sharp breath when they wander up the skirt to your panties. He’s happy to pull them off and you’re happy to lift your hips a little so he can do so with ease. You’re even more happy when calloused fingers find your clit nearly immediately, making your mouth part open into a soft ‘O’ shape as your brain goes fuzzy with need. 

Little sparks and tingles dash across your skin as Shota sets a careful pace, familiar with what you prefer when it comes to these exchanges by now. He applies little pressure at first, and rubs slow, tight circles to start building you up. It’s when he starts to pick up the pace that you give a soft moan, much to his satisfaction. He seems to take it as his signal to pump a finger into your pussy, pleased with just how wet you are for him. 

Like always, he’s methodical and careful not to hurt you. He works his finger in and out of you slowly, causing more of those sparks and friction to light a fire in your belly. It’s when he inserts another finger that he starts to pick up the pace again, slowly stretching out your pussy with his digits. There’s the familiar sensation of adjusting to him, a dull ache that you’ve always enjoyed. 

“Fuck, Shota…” You pant, eyes growing half-lidded as you lean your head against his own. It’s hard to focus, despite how much you want to praise him for this pleasure. He hums, and you can feel him leave a gentle kiss against your skin. Something about his sweetness only makes the fire in your belly, your need for him, grow. 

“So fucking pretty for me,” Shota huffs into your neck, the words sending a rush of heat over your person. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers as he pumps them in your pussy, cooing softly as he stretches you out. “Look at my good girl.” 

The praise doesn’t fall on deaf ears. You give a little whine, pleased with the words rolling so sweetly off of Shota’s tongue as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. You feel him nuzzle his face against your head, whispered praises continuing to flood your hearing as your hips buck into his moving fingers.

You’ve fucked before, of course, but this is a different experience. In comparison to past encounters, it’s far more intense with the risk of being caught. 

And when Shota’s fingers curl in a ‘come hither’ motion that leaves his fingers grazing against your g-spot, you can’t help the pitchy whine that leaves your mouth. The sound causes Shota to lift his free hand so he can cover your mouth, but the low groan that you hear coming from somewhere deep in his chest tells you that he enjoyed the sound. 

His fingers don’t stop as he gently scolds you, voice raspy against your ear. “Gotta stay quiet.” The statement makes you huff softly, wanting to retaliate. He’s the one that had the idea to bring you both in here, why should he also be teasing you? Normally, you would tell him to be quiet—but your mind feels a little too foggy from the feeling of his thick fingers in your pussy to form words, let alone argue with him. 

You only manage to nod instead, tongue fat and heavy in your mouth again. Words would fail to describe how fucking badly you want the man to just push you up against the counter and fuck you silly right now, so you seem to subconsciously do your best to rip a hole into Shota’s shirt instead. You can’t help anchoring yourself to him, your fingers dug so harshly into the fabric of his shirt that your knuckles start to turn white as the pleasure increases. 

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” Shota coos, and another shiver runs up your spine. It takes everything in you not to whine, instead opting to dig your teeth into your bottom lip with a muffled sound.

It becomes increasingly more difficult to control your volume, however, when you watch your lover shift his weight so he can kneel in front of you. Rough hands grab at the hem of your dress, and your breath catches as he pulls them up just enough to reveal your pussy to the man. 

Shota doesn’t seem all that interested in keeping his mouth off of you for any longer than necessary, however. A blessing in disguise, really, because you think you would go crazy if his lips didn’t immediately start pressing hot kisses against your inner thighs. His hands move to your knees, carefully spreading your legs apart as you shift your weight on the counter. A gentle squeeze reminds you to be patient. 

It’s only when you are still that Shota comes closer to your aching cunt, his tongue feeling heavenly when he finally buries his face between your legs like he belongs there. Your breathing quickens as your hands lift to his head, fingers now digging into the man’s hair as his nose brushes against your clit.

His tongue laps at you for only a moment before he dives right in, his hands squeezing where they grasp you just a little tighter than they had before. 

Shota laps at you like a man starved, seemingly as desperate as you feel right now. The noises that are starting to fill the room are downright filthy, wet and obscene in a way that would typically embarrass you. But goddammit, does Shota’s tongue feel like heaven— and goddammit are you so very turned on by the eager groans that he’s providing you as he drinks you up. 

You still have enough sense in your lust-addled brain to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound now threatening to rise up from your chest at the contact. Your anxiety at the thought of being caught in this lewd act is more prevalent than it was earlier, but it’s hard to try and stop the man when his tongue is buried in your cunt like this. The best you can do is try to make sure that you won’t be caught. 

A calloused finger finds its way back to your pussy, and you can’t help the low, muffled whine that slips past your lips again. You press your palm harder against your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep yourself quiet.

Shota seems more than pleased with himself, though, and you can imagine that the man would be smirking if he could. His tongue moves against your clit at an eager pace, his moving fingers matching the speed of the muscle in a way that makes your head spin. 

It’s just the right amount of friction and pressure to make you feel absolutely boneless, a skill that Shota has perfected over years of being with you. Your orgasm approaches quickly and suddenly, making little stars fill the corners of your vision as you gasp. A wave of heat and sparks comes rushing over you, and you can feel yourself shaking as your hips buck into Shota’s face.

Your fingers dig into the dark locks of hair on his head, nails barely grazing his scalp. You can hear a pleased groan from the man in front of you as he laps at you like you’re his last meal. 

The feeling subsides slowly, but leaves you trying to catch your breath as your grasp on Shota’s head loosens, before you’re gently running your fingers through your lover’s hair. His tongue doesn’t stop lapping at your overstimulated cunt until you’re gently pushing him away, your entire body suddenly feeling like jelly from your intense orgasm.

You’re a little nervous that you won’t be able to stand on your own, especially when Shota rises back to his full height and slots himself between your legs. He’s gentle as he brushes some hair from your face with his fingers. 

“Do you feel better?” Shota questions, his face warm with subtle affection. The sight of it makes you smile as you give a slow nod.  

“Sort of,” You mumble lazily, reaching a hand up to catch his wrist so you can press your head into the palm of his hand. “Might need to get my hands on you again when we get home, though…” 

Shota raises his eyebrows at you, and then chuckles as he tilts his head to yours. A gentle kiss on the forehead, and then the subtlest of smirks comes crawling over his face. “Well, I’m glad that was just an appetizer then.”

[i-used-to-be-a-spy]

"you should be at the club" I should be working on my fanfic

[cafekitsune]

MDNI BANNERS | sunset.

( requested by → @messstar & anon )

ahhhhh, finally, red and orange mdni banners haha. these are based on my sunset palette !

find the matching support / reblog banners here.

please like, reblog, and credit 〜

support me through ko-fi | more mdni banners →

[lavenderovercast]

MULLET TOWN collab with @honeyandberryjuice

summary: you take it upon yourself to take care of stan, and show him a little slice of heaven. relationship(s): stanley pines x GN!reader warnings: 18+ content, !! MINORS DNI !! author's note: this one was a lil trickier for us to write, but me & honey hope that you guys enjoy it!!! tags: MULLET STAN BABY WE LOVE THAT GUY!!!!, blowjobs/m receiving oral, harsh language/minor name calling, but like in a sexy way i promise, face fucking, plotless porn, fluff, oral sex, pet names, you wanna give stan the world, he wants to give you the world too <3 🌺 prefer to read on ao3? check out the series! 🌺

You have absolutely no idea how you got here. While you were usually the type of person to complain, especially when it meant you accidentally scuffed up your expensive new work boots, you really didn’t feel like you had that much to complain about this time.

Meeting up with Stan definitely had its upsides, especially when it meant you ended up with his fingers pounding inside of you, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You never meant for it to happen, but the two of you were attracted to each other like magnets and no matter what different methods you tried to pursue to keep him at a comfortable distance, they never fucking worked.

“Yeah, tell me how much ya love it, doll,” His voice rasped, tinged with an almost mean teasing. It was clear that he had no interest in hearing any other response from you other than your moans hitching in your throat as he stretched you out with his thick fingers. His gold chain dangles loosely in front of your face, and you're overwhelmed with the urge to bite it. Only Stan could ever get you this feral over some damn accessory.

The thought suddenly evolves into action and before you know what in seven hells you’re doing, you’ve clamped the metal between your teeth. You glance up at Stan with fire in your eyes, as if you’ve just initiated some challenge that only he would understand— and he does, rather quickly. “You tellin’ me ya wanna use your mouth more, toots?” The grin he shoots down at you is diabolical, like he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to ruin you beyond recognition. You want exactly that.

His fingers pull away from you, leaving you empty and wanting. You would whine for the man and chase after him if you had no sense of dignity. But impressively, you always kept some of that intact during your visits with one another. Your teeth snap together as the gold chain is dragged away from your mouth by Stan adjusting himself in front of you, those big hands of his wandering to your shoulders. His touch is neither gentle nor rough as he pulls you up into a sitting position. 

For a moment, his hands brush affectionately across your temple to wipe away stray hairs that threaten to obscure that pretty face of yours from his vision. “You let me know if it’s too much.” He grumbles, the words a gentle assurance that doesn’t match the frenzied energy in the room now. You can’t stop the grin from forming on your own lips, nodding your head. 

“Yes, sir.” You nearly purr the words, your grin dying into a smile as Stan fights back the urge to fucking growl like some damn, deprived dog at the word that rolled so sweetly off of your tongue. Knowing you’re just doing your best to drive him fucking crazy in the best of ways, his hands find the top of your head and gives an encouraging, gentle push down that leaves you bent in front of him on your hands and knees. 

You don’t hesitate to get right to work. You tilt your head forward and grip onto the zipper of the man’s slacks with your teeth, moving one hand to undo the damned button above it. As you pull the zipper down, Stan has half the mind to help you with dragging his slacks down to his knees. He’s being a gentleman in his own right, not letting his partner put more work than you needed into your pretty performance for him. 

His fingers dig hard into your hair, nails brushing against your scalp as he feels your mouth on his boxers and the hardon underneath. You remember the first time the two of you had ever fucked that you’d been surprised by the size of him— He always exuded confidence, but you had grown to know him as secretly vulnerable and sweet when he had his moments. Suffice to say, you hadn’t been as prepared as you would’ve liked, but had more of a sense of how to handle it now.

The way he’s staring down at you with so much possession and intensity causes a shiver to travel up your body, all the way to the back of your neck. You weren’t always the most assured, but you knew when a man — or, in truth, only Stanley — wanted you. His gaze always made your body feel like fire was burning through your veins, and you had such an intense need to please him, to make him feel things he’d never felt before, that it almost overwhelmed you. Stan sending a cocky grin down your way would’ve made a weaker person combust on the spot, though you had a task to do.

You knew how insane it made Stan to use your mouth for absolutely everything, and you weren't about to let him down now. Without hesitating a second longer, you tip your head forward and grip the band of his boxers between your teeth, yanking hard and letting it snap harshly against his skin. The visceral moan that escapes him is animalistic, though audibly strains as you mischievously swipe your tongue up along the length of him through the fabric. Stan’s grip in your hair grows harsher, if that was even possible, and you let out a thrilled hiss as the delicious pain of it spreads across your skin.

“Filthy little whore, ain’tcha?” His bottom lip is latched by his teeth, though his jaw slacks with an expression that you can only take to mean ‘You’re my whore, and I’ll use you as I please’. Even though you could tease him forever, you know that Stan isn’t the most patient of men and he’d take matters into his own hands soon enough— You wanted to continue the control you were  having over him right now. 

Your cold fingertips brush his hips, dipping below his boxer band to skim over the sensitive spot leading down to his v-line. The boxers come off easily, the length of him springing free, a dewdrop of precum glistening on his pink-hued tip. And Jesus Christ, was the sight intoxicating. You only offer an acknowledging hum to the man’s words, afraid that you’d start drooling like a hungry dog if you tried to open your mouth to offer some sort of playful quip. 

You peek back up at the man through your eyelashes, your lips tugging into a mischievous grin before you dip your head forward, running your tongue across his tip. The salty taste of his precum hits your tongue immediately, only serving as encouragement for you to wrap your lips around your lover’s head. An approving groan sounds from Stan, whose face you haven’t kept your eyes off of. He looks like the wreck that you feel like now already, mullet messy and face flush. 

If you were still a Godly individual, you would pray to the lord that you could keep Stan like this forever, because his current dishevelment is certainly the closest you’ll ever get to heaven. Determined to convey the strong, overwhelming need welling into your chest, you wrap your tongue around the head of Stan’s cock, swirling and moving the muscle skillfully around him. Stan rewards you with another pleased groan, those perfect hands of his applying a gentle pressure to the back of your skull to encourage you further down his cock. 

Typically, you wouldn’t tolerate Stan’s lack of patience. Typically, you would offer some form of punishment— whether that was your teeth grazing against the sensitive flesh of his cock (a sensation that you had a feeling he was very much into), or pulling your mouth off of him to tease and prod at the man until he took initiative over your encounter. This time, you give a hum around his dick and happily comply with the silent request, pushing your head down to take more of his length. 

“Fuck,” The word comes out a sigh more than anything else, and those big hands of his run lovingly through your hair before tightening their grasp again. “Look at you. You’re so hungry for me, hm?” His head tilts as he questions you, a wicked grin tugging the corners of his mouth up as you offer another hum around his dick. And then, with a deep breath drawn in through your nose, you continue your pursuit of making the man crumble under your touch the way that you’ve crumbled under his. 

And there was that blasted impatience again. Even though you were taking him so well, using all the techniques you’d practiced over the span of your relationship, Stan always wanted more. He wasn’t the type of man to only take an inkling of what he wanted— It was all or nothing.

The pressure on the back of your head grows stronger as he pushes you harder against him, the size of him hitting all the way to the back of your throat. Your eyes squeeze closed as you have to concentrate on your breathing, your mouth brimming with saliva as your cheeks begin to ache as you suck every inch of him. You weren’t lucky enough to say you have no gag reflex at all, though you’re a strong person and can fight off the urge if you’re determined enough. Your eyes begin to water, causing small tears to begin streaking down your cheeks, as Stan’s grunts grow louder with every thrust.

“You’re doin’... so well, sweet cheeks.” The man’s voice sounds again, this time breathy and hot. It’s clear that he means it by the jerking that you feel on the roof of your mouth. Maybe it’s the sudden softness in his tone, or the praise he’s giving you, but it gives you further incentive to give him anything he wants. You pat his thigh a few times to tell him that you need a breather, and he pulls himself out of your mouth, the hand that had laid on the back of your head softly sweeping around your face to cup you gently on the cheek. 

You climb to your feet, grabbing his hand between your own and pulling him towards his bed. You lay yourself on your back, head towards him with your head basically hanging off the edge. With a motion towards him, he stepped forward and you gripped the back of his thighs to pull him even closer. “Get back to it, then.” You demand, your tone playful.

Stan barks a laugh, wrapping a hand around his cock to reposition it into your mouth. “Whatever you want, toots.” He doesn’t say anything else as you take all of him once more, happy to find out that your intuition had been correct about changing to this position. Like this, you could take so much more of him without risk of your gag reflex setting you off so harshly.

The man throws his head back and hisses as he feels the tip of his cock even deeper in your throat, the tightness of it enveloping around him and causing a thrill of pleasure to spike through him as your soft lips touch the skin at his base. His head is dizzy from the sensation and his eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name loudly to the ceiling. You feel your crotch throb from the sound, your want so evident in your body’s reaction to his voice alone, but you know good things come to those who wait. Stan was allowed to be selfish in this moment, as he usually went out of his way to make sure you were satisfied before he even entered himself into you.

His arms reach up above his head to rest on the bed canopy, fingers curling around to grip tightly into the wood. You hear the scratch of his nails and know he’s close, your own hands still wrapped around the back of his thighs to try and take more of him. “I’m… I’m gonna cum, doll face.”

The words encourage you to tighten your grasp around the man’s thighs, a muffled whine threatening to rise up from your throat. Something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel this way, making him talk this way— it sends goosebumps across your skin as you double your efforts. Cheeks hollowed around the man, you’re doing the best you can to help Stan reach his limit. When your tongue curls around his cock, trying your damnedest to cover every inch of him, he gives another groan, followed by a gentle buck of his hips. 

Still so considerate of you, even when he’s on the fucking brink. That fact almost drives you as wild as the feeling of him cumming in you does. Stan’s grasp on the wood only tightens as he rocks his hips against you, gentle and careful as he rides out his orgasm. You’re all too happy to let him, swallowing every last drop of his cum with an eagerness that might bring a blush to your face later. It’s only when you can feel his hips come to a halt and his body relaxing above your own that you release your own grasp on his thighs. 

Stan pants softly as he pulls himself from you and your mouth, allowing you to become aware of the drool that now coated the corners of your lips and his cock. You can’t help yourself as a satisfied smile appears on your face as the brunette plops down beside you on the bed. He looks absolutely winded, sweat clinging to his skin as you happily move to cozy up to him. “Good?” 

“Good?” Stan repeats with a scoff, his eyebrows rising as he looks at you with an almost starstruck expression. “Best goddamn head I’ve ever gotten.” He confirms, a toothy grin forming on his face. You aren't allowed to bask in your pride of his praise for very long, though, because Stan moves an arm to gently pull you closer, so you’re damn near on top of him. 

The man nuzzles his face into your neck, his tone rough as his hands roam down your sides. “S’pose I oughta pay you back for that one, huh? Not very gentlemanly of me not to…” 

“Since when…” You begin to tease, but he finds that goddamn spot between your neck and collarbone that makes your breath catch, and your sentence devolves into giggles as you rolls your eyes affectionately at his antics. “...If you insist, sir.” 

A pleased groan rumbles against the sensitive skin of your neck, but before you can do anything else, Stan secures his hands around you to pull you onto his body. You give another giggle at the show of affection and closeness, your heart feeling fuzzy with warmth and your body aching for more of the man.

[honeyandberryjuice]

Grinding Gears

summary: when 30 years go by with your husband in another dimension, it's only natural that you both encounter some physical and emotional barriers. luckily for you, you're able to begin squashing the physical ones rather quickly... relationship(s): stanford pines/reader word count: 2,330 warning(s): 18+, MINORS DNI

author's note: give it up for day 2 of our kinktober challenge!!! what do you mean it's the 10th/11th? we weren't procrastinating, the calendar was. by being several days ahead of us. another collab between me & @lavenderovercast!! hope you guys enjoy <333 tags: semi-sub!ford pines; this man is soft for one woman and one woman only, light dom!reader, thigh riding, plotless porn ftw, thirty years of feelings involved lmao, fluff, smut, pet names, chair sex, grinding, dirty talk; but make it really nerdy and needy, horrible biology joke :)

🍯 prefer to read on ao3? 🍯

 Ford doesn’t know how long he’s been down in his lab with his research, but he does know that when he hears the familiar creak of the elevator coming down that it’s probably been too long. You’ve been a good wife, a dutiful wife— it’s only natural that you would come down to check on him. And it was only natural that Ford would try to protest your presence, tilting his head over his shoulder as you approached him with a frown on your pretty face.

 “I’m sorry, my dear. I’ll head to bed soon.” You both know that his words are a lie, even if he doesn’t mean them to be. Because Ford’s work means everything to him, it also means that there’s no rest for the wicked. With the wicked in this case being a sleep-deprived scientist. That fact doesn’t stop him from turning his chair to face you, outstretching his arms to pull you closer for a gentle peck on the lips— it’s his form of an apology, it’s his way of trying to earn forgiveness for neglecting his sleep. “Don’t wait on me, please. You look tired.”

 He’s exhausted, but he knows that he needs to piece the rest of this project together. It will gnaw at him and leave him restless if he leaves it alone. You smile knowingly as your husband’s hands brush against your skin, warm and calloused as his thumbs rub circles against your wrists as he gently pulls you closer. Your form happily leans into the man, a mischievous thought forming in your head. If he won’t come to bed with the temptation of your presence alone, why not provide further incentive?

 “You look stressed,” You hum, your hands gliding across his skin to settle onto his shoulders. You lean in closer, your familiar floral scent mixed with baking that always smelled so divine to Ford enveloping him. His head falls into your body and he breathes you in deeply, the man’s hands cupping your back to pull you in closer. He was always so busy tinkering or researching, as he always had done. It was hard to break habits that he’d kept up for almost forty years, but being reunited with his wife made him remember just how many physical sensations he’d let himself forget.

 The perfume that clings to your clothes make his head feel dizzy, and his fingers grip into your soft cardigan wrapping around your frame. He feels a little pathetic as he realises that something as little as just your presence causes arousal to fill him. Ford had missed his wife so dearly, and while the emotional side of things had been difficult to confront and talk about, he knew the two of you had managed to rediscover your comfort around each other… Though the intimacy side of things was a little more strained, and while the two of them definitely felt the absence of one another, it was hard to just pick up where they left off after thirty years.

 With a sigh, Ford lifts his head to look up at you, eyes slightly pleading. Your breath hitches in your throat as you notice that he wants you just as much as you want him. Your hands move from his shoulders up to his neck, before gently cupping his face and leaning in for a feather-light kiss. The motion was shy, because you felt shy; you had spent most of your life believing you knew this man intricately, but so many decades apart had made you foreign to each other. You knew that you had to make the first move, to know him again.

 As you both separate after the peck, your breaths mingle in the small space between you. You can see a shy smile tugging at the man’s lips as he peers up at you, his brown eyes warm with affection. The sight is enough to make you smile back, your heart warming in your chest as he leans forward. Ford feels a little bolder, if only for a moment, pressing his lips gently against yours.

 It’s longer and deeper than the peck that you had just shared. His lips are rough against yours, but you find yourself enjoying the sensation as your fingertips move up, gently digging into the man’s hair. A pleased groan rumbles from his chest, a sound that is muffled but still makes his face flush with embarrassment as his tongue carefully slips past your lips.

 It’s been years since he’s been physical with anyone, of course the action will feel clumsy and awkward— of course his heart is going to thunder in his chest the way that it is now. It doesn’t make him any less embarrassed by how weak in the knees you make him now, though. These facts also don’t let him embrace his desperation with grace, nor do they let him embrace the way that his fingers rub against the fabric of your cardigan and move down without a little bit of shame.

 Not because of you, of course, but because of himself. He doesn’t want to be selfish and needy, but it’s exactly what he is now as his hands trail from your sides to the backs of your legs, silent encouragement for you to rest yourself on his lap. You happily comply, straddling one of his legs as he pulls away from your intoxicating lips for air, only just noticing the burn in his lungs.

 “I missed you.” He mumbles, his voice sincere as he navigates his hands away from the backs of your legs, closer to the hem of your skirt. Ford just wants to take care of you, maybe in his own selfish way, in an attempt to ignore his want. You deserve better than what he wants to provide now. It’s only natural that his hands wander the hem of your skirt, eager to pull down the fabric until your delicate hand wraps around his wrist.

 Your face is flushed red, and the sight of this makes his insides turn to jelly. Your hair, which had been pulled back into a slick bun, had begun to unwind with bits of loose hair falling around the side of your face. Ford always believed you looked beautiful, but there was something radiant about you right now— The usually hard shell of a woman who always strived to remain professional and predominantly focused on your work coming undone made him feel very hot under the collar. Your work ethic is what had made him fall for you, after all.

 His admiration of you flew from his mind as your grip on his wrist grew tighter, the desire on your face evident. The man wanted so badly to please you, and he felt a thrill travel up his spine and groin as you took his hand and pulled it under your skirt, pressing it against your panties.

 Ford could feel your want soaking through them.

 “You’re… You’re so…” His throat felt tight, his skin burning with both need and bashfulness.

 “Wet?” You finished for him, a sly smile plastering your face. “That’s just simple biology not letting me keep any secrets about how much I want you.”

 Oh God, he loved you so much. Ford needs you closer, to kiss your glorious lips and show you how much he wanted you, too. This time wasn’t about him and he would make it his mission to do anything you wanted. His hand rubs along your labia, before pausing to swirl around your swollen clit.

 You gasp loudly, jerking forward and clamping your fingers tightly onto his shoulders. Ford glances up at you through long, dark eyelashes, one side of his mouth quirked up into a little smirk. You had always found that look so infuriating when the two of you had been academic rivals, though now it shot fluttery shockwaves through your body like little electric butterflies.

 A whimper escapes you as you pull yourself closer towards him, the warmth from your drenched panties and body seeping into him. Your breasts pressing against his chest make him lightheaded, despite the fact you were still fully clothed. God, he really needed to get laid.

 He almost feels lamentable, like he’s some teenage virgin in his first relationship. It’s almost like he’s about to melt into the damn chair he’s sitting on now, with the way you pull yourself to him, your fingers digging harshly into the sleeves of his sweater, grasping onto his shoulders as though he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Your reactions are encouragement that push past his nerves, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. Getting his wife to cum so damn hard that you would see stars.

 His fingers move methodically as he does his best to recall the way that you used to like him touching you; each former whisper of praise and gratitude that slipped your lips all those years ago came back into his mind like muscle memory, encouraging him to continue rubbing your clit in fast little circles. Ford can’t help but think that he could die happy, with you writhing in his lap when you give a breathy gasp, leaning your head into the crook of the man’s neck before bucking your hips into his moving hand.

 “Sweet Moses, you’re divine,” He breathes out softly to you, the praise instinctively slipping from his lips. And then he’s leaning his own head so he can rest it against your shoulder. The sweet smell of vanilla invades his senses in a way that makes his head swim. He can’t see it, but you’re grinning as you rock your hips against his fingers, a slow and deliberate action that earns a soft groan from the man. “You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.”

 You giggle at that, the sound of a torturous melody that he wanted to hear forever. Ford isn’t given long to relish in the sound, however, because you continue to rock your hips, beginning to build up a steady pace. He can feel your legs clench around his own, your grip on him tight as you grind your hips on his leg and fingers. It’s filthy, and he craves more of it. He wants to see you come undone, he wants to make you scream with delight.

 So he keeps up his rhythm, not minding the tightness beginning to fill his slacks as he lifts his head to cup your cheek with his free hand. Tilting your head so you’re facing him, Ford presses his lips against your own in another kiss. This time, he’s far less gentle. This time, he allows his yearning to show through his actions in the way that they can’t through his words. Ford revels in the way that you whimper and jerk your hips harder into his fingers and lap, the actions of your excitement only encouraging the man to playfully nip at your lip.

 Between Ford’s expert fingers moving against your clit, pressing against the bud with just enough pressure to make you want to melt in his arms and the stimulation of your pussy rubbing against his leg as you filthily grind on his thigh, you’re certain that this is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven in his arms.

 You’re eager to return the kiss, an excited noise rising from the back of your throat as Ford’s teeth graze against your bottom lip. You know that you aren’t going to last much longer on his lap, grinding your hips like this while Ford dutifully rubs your clit, not letting up with the stimulation that sends shivers across your skin.

 You can feel the pressure rising within you, deep in your pelvis as your legs begin to shake around Ford’s thigh. One hand continues to dig into his skin, your nails embedding deeply into his red sweater as your breathing becomes spasmodic and heavy, the other gripping the back of his hair as your grinding increases in fervour. Your lip is clamped between your teeth and Ford is so enraptured in watching your face, your eyes clouded with desire, that he isn’t prepared for when you come completely undone.

 Your jaw drops open and you throw your head back, a guttural groan coming from deep in your throat as you jerk your hips roughly once more and your weight falls back. Ford catches you by wrapping his arms behind your back and pulling you towards him again, another hot kiss searing your skin as he begins to plant soft smooches along your jaw plastered with praise, “You did so well, dear. So beautiful, so perfect.” The man coos, one hand raising to cup you gently on the cheek.

 He would curse himself for not letting your reunion happen earlier, what with everything going on with Bill’s plan and endless research, but he was so glad that this had happened the way it had. You seem to think similarly, because you smile sweetly up at him and nuzzle into his neck for a few moments before clambering off his lap.

 Your expression turns playful as you look down at his thigh, your smile sheepish. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Ford could honestly stay in these clothes forever marred as they were, the filthy man he is, but he nods in agreement. With a quiet grunt, he begins to climb onto his feet before he feels your hands push him back into the chair, eyebrow raised. “No, no,” You grin devilishly, “Let me take those off for you.”

 Ford lifts both of his eyebrows as he peers up at you, his face growing warm at the devilish expression on your face. He can’t help but grin and nod his head at the sight. “Whatever you wish, my dearest.”

 While you both may still have some emotional awkwardness to confront in the future, you didn’t think your physical intimacy would be an issue any longer.

[lavenderovercast]

HUNKING HERO collab with @honeyandberryjuice

summary: you & toshinori get freaky in your office! relationships: yagi toshinori x female!reader warnings: 18+ content under the cut, !! MINORS DNI !! note: me & @honeyandberryjuice decided to work on our own custom kinktober list for this year, so here's a written collab between the two of us! enjoy it you filthy animals <33 tags: blow jobs, (light) praise kink, size kink, office sex, semi-public sex, dick transformation (just gets bigger cuz. u know. all might ), all might AND small might, two for the price of one!, porn w/ out plot, implied aftercare 🌺 prefer to read on ao3? check out the series! 🌺

“Oh my goodness,” Toshinori panted, his large hands gripping into the leather seat beneath him. The blonde man’s neck was perspired with sweat, his breath and skin hot. The groan that came from his throat was visceral, almost like he was in pain, though he couldn’t be further from it. “You’re… taking all of me so well.” The man managed to gasp out, muscles visibly straining in his arms. The sight drives you absolutely crazy.

 All you can reply with is a deep and satisfied hum, what with your mouth being otherwise busy. Toshinori’s cock was enveloped deeply in your throat, the warmth of it fulfilling your need for the man. The hum you’d given in response seems to send ripples through him, as you feel him jerk in your mouth. You can’t help but feel smug about it.

 You have one hand gripped around his sinewy thigh, and the other one reaches towards his groin to cup his balls. As you begin to massage them gently, a strangled cry erupts from Toshinori and a clammy hand slaps down onto where yours was on his thigh and squeezes. His words are a garbled mess, but you manage to make out, “Jeez, I’m gonna cum. Let’s…” The man pauses to take another gulp of air before continuing, “I wanna try something.”

 Curiousity positively piqued, you remove him from your mouth. Your jaw had begun to ache from taking the size of him anyway, and you’d never been able to say no to him. You quietly hum again as you move, slowly pushing yourself up and off of your knees, resting your hands on the top of the blonde’s thighs. Toshinori’s breath hitched at the contact, and the man finds it increasingly difficult to regain his composure. 

 His dilemma only worsens when you lean your head closer to his, a sweet smile on the same lips that were just wrapped around his aching dick. The man could just about faint when your lips brush against his cheek, warm and soft as they press onto his skin before you speak to him so warmly. “What do you have in mind, Toshi?” 

 Toshinori fights a groan, hands shifting back to the leather seat underneath him. With a squeeze, he furrowed his eyebrows before letting his palms rest on your hips. A surprised noise escapes his you as he lifts you with ease, gently maneuvering you so your sitting on the desk in front of the two of you now. Your hands move to rest on the tops of his own, causing Toshinori to dig his teeth into his lip as he peers up at you. 

 In his eyes, you’re beautiful— a true marvel of the world. Your hair falls around your face and shoulders in a perfect curve, and there’s the sweetest, most trusting smile on your face as you gaze down at him so lovingly. The blonde doesn’t understand how he got so lucky, but he’s grateful for it anyways as he moves to slot himself between your legs. 

 “What do… You think about trying something different?” Toshinori rumbles, ducking his head down to leave loving kisses across your susceptible skin. His teeth grazes your neck, making you sigh and lean into the man with an approving hum. 

 “Depends on your definition of different.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs soothingly against his skin. You’re already fucking the man in an office, so you’re certain that nothing he can propose will be too bold for you to try. 

 The kisses he had been peppering on your complexion began to travel down your body, and you let out a small giggle as his lips tickled your sensitive skin. Your hands instinctively reached up to grab at his dishevelled blonde hair, pulling gently, which caused a low groan to escape the man. You bite her lip at the sound, positively enthralled that you could cause such deliciousness to come from him without even doing much. It seemed to take everything in him to find the focus to reply, “It’ll be better if I just show you. Let me know if, at any point, you don’t like it, ‘kay?”

 The small nod from you was all he needed as he sits back down into the office chair while pulling you down with him. Your soft, warm, naked skin on his caused tingles to travel up his spine, his hands reaching around you to support your back as you settled comfortably on his lap. With ease, he lifts your body up to line himself up with you and slowly enter you, a rumbling groan and a breathy gasp escaping each of you respectfully. 

 He takes a moment to let you adjust, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, making him grit his teeth. Toshinori would describe himself as a gentle lover, but the things you did to him made him want to break furniture and throw you around like a ragdoll, but he was a gentleman and would control himself— Even if every passing second with you only made that challenge all the more difficult. “You okay?” He asked, voice soft.

 “Always,” You respond, though your voice sounds strained. You look at him through your eyelashes, already knowing where his thoughts were venturing. “Please don’t stop. I just forget how much of you there is every time.” There’s amusement in your tone, and your face is wonderfully flush with arousal.

 If Toshinori was a different man, he would’ve been completely self-satisfied about the reactions he got out of you. It was hard not to be, when you have your fingers dug into his shoulders as he slowly rocks his hips forward. A pleased sound leaves you as you tild your head forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder with a shaky exhale. Desperately, you want to be close to him. Desperately, you want more of him, all of him. 

 Instead of taking further pride in himself for having such an independent woman damn near weak in the knees for him, Toshinori rests his lips gently against the top of your head. The smell of your shampoo invades his senses as he pushes forward. He’s slow and careful for you, attentive as always as he allows you to adjust to his length. 

 Another pleased sound erupts from you, this time in the form of a breathy sigh as his hips become flush against your own. A soft pant leaves you, and you left your head up to capture Toshinori’s lips in a kiss. His fingers press gently against your hips as he begins to move against you. The pleased, muffled sounds that leave his lover as he moves make him groan quietly, his own need increasingly growing. 

 The hands on your hips grips you harder, and he lifted you again to slide you up the length of him before pulling you roughly back down to take him fully. A surprised moan burst from you, telling him that you enjoyed the act very much, so he did it again. And again. Over and over, he lifted you up and down, before hitching his hands under your thighs to keep you in place and pounding up into you until your eyes began to roll back in your head. 

 You were lucky nobody was in the building anymore, or it would’ve been very obvious what you were doing, closed blinds or not. 

 A strained groan came from him as he felt the familiar sensation of release building up in him, and he knew now would be the time to enact what he slyly hinted at earlier. As your cries turned ecstatic, and your pulling of his hair felt like you were going to rip it from his scalp in a heavenly wave of pain and pleasure, he allowed another well-known electricity to assemble within him. The remnants of One For All pumped through his veins, filling his muscles and bulking his frame like it had again and again over the years.

 He didn’t think he would ever get sick of the feeling, and it didn’t matter that it only lasted for a few seconds now. Toshinori always felt so powerful when the quirk gave him new form.

 As his body doubled, tripled in size, your already smaller frame seemed to shrink on top of him. His large arms and legs seemed impossibly big next to you, and it was with your very sudden, sharp intake of breath that he knew you felt him bulk elsewhere too. “Oh my G— Fuck!”  Your voice squeaked as his cock stretched you out, and you felt more of him than you ever had before.

 He’s about to ask you if you’re okay again, to know if this was way too much or painful at all, but he’s silenced by you clamping your hand harshly over his mouth as you begin to bounce on top of him. Your moans are so tinged with desperation now that he can’t concentrate on anything else, and his even larger hands cup you tightly on the ass as he watches you taking every wide inch of him.

 “Toshi— Fuck, All Might!” His hero name being called from your pretty mouth undoes him. He didn’t think he was vain enough that something like that would turn him on so much, but the surprise doesn’t affect much as he realises his climax is imminent.

 He throws his head back and moans loudly as he empties himself inside of you, the cum overfilling you and dripping down the inside of your legs onto the top of his thighs. The man pants as he takes a moment to recover, his hands falling limp against you, who in turn practically drops onto him. Toshinori can feel your chest pressed against his own, your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

 The blonde can feel his body returning to his regular form, but he doesn’t pay it much mind as he lifts a shaky hand that he runs through your hair soothingly. He’s quiet for a moment before tilting his head back to you, lips pressing against the top of your head like they had earlier before. He can hear a breathy chuckle come from your mouth, and you peer up at him with affection written all over your features. 

 “Are… You alright? Was that…” He’s not able to finish his sentence as you lift a hand and gently nudge his shoulder, your eyes narrowed playfully on his face. He can feel his features warm as you hum. 

 “That was perfect, Toshi,” You murmur, nuzzling your head into the man’s chest with a contented little smile on your face. Toshinori can’t help but smile too, moving his hands to rest them on your arms, rubbing soothing patterns into the exposed skin. “...Should clean up, though. My office is going to smell terrible.” 

 “Mmm,” The blonde grunts in agreement, nodding a little. “Just let me hold you a little longer.”

[honeyandberryjuice]

Into Wonderland

summary: you have a very questionable situation with the man of your dreams. literally. relationship(s): reader/yagi toshinori (all might) word count: 938 warning(s): 18+, MINORS DNI

author's note: originally written for @lavenderovercast of their oc, but edited it for reader x toshinori. specifially small might because i love him. if you enjoyed this, any interaction is appreciated ♡ if anyone would like this rewritten for male, gender neutral or otherwise, please let me know!! tags: small might, fem!reader, cheating reader, well not really because it's a dream, emotional cheating?, whatever it is probably isn't morally correct, very guilty conscious, but it's sexy??

🍯 prefer to read on ao3? 🍯

 The room is hot. So fucking hot.

 Maybe it’s the fact that Japan was experiencing a dry spell, not even an ounce of any signs of rain for the last four days. Or, perhaps, it’s because Toshinori was moaning into your ear, breathy and so, so hot against you. If you weren’t so warm in your cheeks, and so very much distracted by the man’s very large fingers rubbing against your clit, you might’ve giggled as the air tickled your skin.

 Nothing seems very funny right now and, to be honest, your thoughts have been a garbled mess for the past few minutes. It was only the feeling of perspiration clinging to your back that had awakened the internal complaint—Though, really, you had absolutely nothing to complain about when Toshinori’s rough, calloused fingers swirled so hypnotically on your pussy.

 “Fuck,” You gasp out, a familiar pressure building inside your stomach. If the man continued this much longer, you’d come apart. There was something embarrassing about that, even though you trusted him with your entire life… Perhaps it was because this had all come on so unexpectedly, and you should feel shame about this, you should think about your husband—But, shit, it felt so fucking good.

 The blonde man lifted his soft lips from your neck, his eyebrows furrowing in worry. The pressure wanes, and you realise that his hands have slowed their pace. His voice, deliciously gravelly and cracking from lust, asks softly, “Are you okay? Does that hurt?”

 Oh god. You can’t stand it; you want him so fucking bad that it hurts. You don't deserve this man, this moment, anything—But there’s something so delightfully wicked about everything that the two of you shouldn’t be doing, and you don't ever want it to stop. Emphatically, you shake your head, and your hand slides up his neck to grip roughly at his hair. The other hand cups his in-between your thighs, and you push his hand closer. “P-Please, don’t. I’m almost there, Yagi. I…” It seemed impossible for your cheeks to blush anymore than they currently were, but you felt them warm even deeper. “I want to cum for you.”

 Toshinori is at a complete loss for words. His body betrays him to show this fact very clearly as his jaw falls open, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth. It takes a moment for him to regain his composure, and he finally clears his throat before looking at the person in front him with such softness and high regard that you suddenly think about covering yourself up. You don't, because you want more than anything for this to continue, but you can’t help but feel vulnerable under his dark-eyed gaze. After what felt like a lifetime, he responded, “I would like that, more than anything. I want to make you happy—”

 And suddenly, you’re pulling his face towards yours and wrapping your mouth around his. Your heart aches, but your pussy aches even more to feel him again. You don't know if you’ll ever get this chance laid before you again, and you can’t stand living with your regrets any longer. You wanted him; you’d wanted him for years, since you’d been classmates in America. You should’ve been braver, shouldn’t have run away from him, should’ve made yourself confess to him and claim what had felt like yours forever. If you wouldn’t have that chance again, then you’d do absolutely everything in your power to make this memory last a lifetime.

 Your tongue slips into his mouth, and the feel of his own—shy at first, though still so, so curious—feels like heaven. Then there’s fire, burning, and metallic iron mixed with a hint of peppermint as Toshinori noticeably relaxes in your hands like clay and his own tongue slides against yours. Your breaths mingles together, and you aren’t sure if the moan you heard was just your own, or his, or the two of you together.

 Your hands are everywhere—in his hair, brushing against his shoulders, cupping his cheeks. You can’t get enough, it feels like you’ve been starving for this for your whole existence, and this is where you’re meant to be and—

 With a jerk, you awaken. Your skin is clammy, your hair is sticking to your head, and you feel an urgent need to get out of your pyjamas now.

 But you’re still not fully conscious, and the thought is quickly removed from your mind as your hand instinctively reaches out for the body beside you. His skin is cold, so lushly cold, and you magnetically shuffle closer to him, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

 You ignore the fact that the scent that washes over you isn’t the same as the one you’d relished in your dreams, instead cupping a hand against his stubbly cheek, disregarding that the one you truly wanted to touch was clean shaven, and pulling him in for a kiss. There is no inferno or iron, only the slight heaviness of sleep.

 “Sweetheart?” In a voice that doesn’t feel right, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that you can think about is that you need this, and you know you’re a horrible, disgusting person that doesn’t deserve any of it—

 But warm hands, cold at the fingertips, finally, finally reach for you and you can feel his hair brushing against your cheek. It’s similar in shape, and your fingers have expertly explored it over the years, and if you just close your eyes and dream, it’s blond and spiky, and perfect.

 Even if it doesn’t belong to the man you really want.

[honeyandberryjuice]

A Mutual Agreement

summary: arthur gets super drunk over his romantic woes and finds comfort in the arms of abigail relationship(s): abigail roberts/arthur morgan word count: 2,082 warning(s): 18+, MINORS DNI

author's note: i wrote this in the ungodly hours of 4am, eyes stinging, and the need to impress my bestie with some porn. this is my first lil fanfic piece, please be kind to me ;w; tags: this is set before abigail is with john ok, i am an adamant john x abigail shipper & i'll die on this hill just let me have this please, some praise kink and reward stuff idk, arthur being an idiot (affectionate) & not thinking about the consequences of his actions, mutual drunk fucking, let's not think about what this means, top!arthur morgan

 The crackling of the fire floats softly up to Arthur’s ears, face warmed both by its heat and the bottle of whiskey in his hand. Over the last couple of days, his nights had followed the same routine— He’d done whatever chores needed doing, argued with whoever stood too close to him, grabbed a crate of alcohol, and sat sullenly by the campfire. For the first few nights, several members of the gang had attempted to come over to him and get to the bottom of his attitude, though his expression and biting words had sent them all on their way with a scowl or injured retort.

 Now, the only one left was Abigail.

 The woman had only been with them for a little while now, shorter than some of the other girls but enough for her to get acquainted with the many members of the camp. Arthur wasn’t one to judge— Everyone had to make their living one way or another, and he was glad she at least had people to look after her now. Whatever she chose to do in her spare time was up to her, and Arthur quite honestly couldn’t care less. He’d hardly looked her way during her time here, most essentially because a particular blonde had been keeping his attention.

 His vision blurred as he looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed. Recently, she’d become slightly more… Present around the men, especially John. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the woman had developed some sort of attachment for him, for whatever reason. He loved John; the younger man was like a brother to him, but he really was only two cents short of a complete imbecile. Arthur truly believed that he wouldn’t ever learn to appreciate a good thing right before him, even if someone were to hammer it into his forehead to stare at in the mirror every day.

 The brunette sighed, clasping the bridge of his nose as the fire swam in front of him. He’d definitely had too much to drink…

 Soft, cold hands brushed against his arm, and the scent of berries, coffee, and fresh linen enveloped him. It took all of his willpower not to suck it all in like his last breath of air. Instead, he focused on trying not to pass out, reaching out his own hand to brace against the support on his arm. “Thanks, Abigail.” He managed, head pounding. The woman’s hands patted him in response before the warmth of her pressed against the side of his leg. 

 She didn’t respond to him, though she’d evidently come closer for some reason. Arthur guessed that maybe she was trying to look after him, though her hands fidgeted in her lap, and her eyes continued to search the camp. 

 Arthur clicked his tongue, pulling himself back up into a respectable sitting position. “Y’deserve better than that damn idiot.” He spat out. His words sounded bitter, even to his own ears, and Arthur wondered if he was really even talking about John at all.

 “Oh, Arthur. You… You don’t know him like I do. He’s sweet— And, well, he…” The first words she’d spoken since sitting with him at the fire, and they were all to defend the flaky outlaw. It infuriated Arthur to no end.

 His hot-headedness sparked easier next to the blaze warming his body, and the response escaped him angrily in his next breath. “Yeah, I bet he is. That boy’s always had a gift for charm, y’know. But he ain’t ever committed to nothin’ in his damn life. Y’better off not wasting yer time.” Words that hit too close to home, that made his chest squeeze as if a boulder flattened it. He pushed it down into the depths of him.

 There was only silence from the woman. It spread for so long that Arthur almost spoke an apology, though Abigail springing forward and grasping a bottle of whiskey from the crate froze it in his throat. Had he ever seen her drink? He decided he’d be much better off without saying a word, and instead leaned back and concentrated on sobering up a little. His eyes went from watching the fire to watching the black-haired woman, her own attention taken by the burning pit in front of them.

 Some time passed; it wasn’t awkward, or tense, but actually rather pleasant, with the crackling of the fire filling in their lack of conversation. It took a little while, and the opening of a new bottle of whiskey, for Abigail to seem to relax. Arthur noticed with some smugness that her attention no longer searched desperately around the camp, but rather she looked at her hands folded in her lap. After a while, she spoke again. “What happened, Arthur? Y… Y’seemed so content before. Did you…” She trailed off, likely thinking her questions were far too personal to ask.

 Arthur’s vision had unfogged slightly, and he leaned forward to give her more of his attention. His eyes were drooping lazily, though he could see her face clearly, features illuminated by the orange glow of the campfire. He realised, with his breath slightly hitching in his throat, that she really was quite beautiful. The next words didn’t hurt as much as they had in his head, the same ones he’d been berating himself with over the last few days. His voice was hardly audible when he said, “I lost her.”

 Their eyes met, and there was no surprise in hers as she looked at him. Maybe she’d already known about Eliza — women’s intuition and all that — or maybe he really wasn’t as good at hiding secrets as he liked to think.

 Abigail’s gaze softened, and her eyes drifted down to his lips.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Arthur licked them, his thoughts tumbling away as the heat and the drink and proximity of the woman before him hit him. For a moment, he really took her in— the dark hair that reminded him so much of his first love, of the gentleness and sincerity that mirrored so very closely to the one who owned his heart. The three women became one, morphing into the lovely face barely inches from his own.

 He was kissing her before his thoughts began to make sense again.

 Though once the realisation hit him, it wasn’t followed by immediate regret like he would’ve thought. Abigail’s own lips only met his, and didn’t inch away— Instead, she seemed to be full of the same longing as he was. A mutual agreement of desperately needed comfort. 

 He lifted her into his arms, walking towards an empty tent with pure muscle memory. If anyone walked past them or noticed them, they didn’t speak— But Arthur wouldn’t have cared anyway. He needed this, to feel like he, for just a moment, wasn't a monster. That a blonde woman, the mother of his child, didn’t hate him for leaving her. Even if she wouldn’t even know it was for her own good.

 The frame of the bed hit against his legs and caused the two of them to tumble into it. A breathy laugh escaped Abigail, which only made his ears roar at the sensational sound of it. Her hands pulled at his hair, his clothes, his skin and it took all his effort not to roll his eyes into the back of his head. Abigail’s tongue probed at his lips, and the man could only think of how wonderfully experienced this woman was with her mouth, kissing her back with a moan.

 He pulled off his shirt and her hands rubbed down his chest, causing goosebumps to prickle lovingly against them. Arthur fought back his shiver as her nails scraped against him, his lip catching in his teeth as a shuddering breath escaped him. His cock ached against his pants, so he quickly fixed the problem by unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other reaching to touch the now-naked woman.

 Despite the drink causing Arthur to lose focus, he wanted to make this enjoyable for Abigail, too. The earlier roaming hand found its target, and the next groan came out strangled. She was wet. The cockiness came back, and he whispered, “Y’been waitin’ for this, aintcha?” The dark-haired woman nodded, though the motion wasn’t a good enough answer for him. His fingers caressed the opening, and he teasingly rubbed against her clit, eyes hard. “What was that, sweetheart?”

 “Y-Yes. I have.” Her voice was strained as his teasing intensified, though Arthur didn’t make her wait too long before he rewarded her by pushing his fingers into her pussy. The moan that erupted out of her made his cock twitch, and a throaty chuckle came from him as he relinquished it. He made her make that sound. The man wanted to cause her to make many more.

 Hovering over her, he continued to push his fingers in and out of her, holding onto her thigh with his other hand. He watched her with growing smugness as the delightful little sounds she made grew in both intensity and volume. “Arthur—” Abigail gasped, hands gripping into the sheets, “‘m gonna cum.”

 His name from her lips sounded like music, especially with it so strained with pleasure like it was. The man’s movements grew faster, his grip on her thigh harder. “Cum for me, darlin’,” Arthur responded, tone commanding yet encouraging. His mouth teased lightly against the inside of her thigh, and his teeth grazed her skin, begging her to fall over the edge of her climax.

 It didn’t take long before she was coming apart in his arms, legs shaking. Her breath was hot as he pressed his body into hers again, holding her for a moment. “Good girl,” Arthur’s voice positively purred, before he was standing over again. 

 His hands gripped hard against her hips as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, where his hard cock begged to enter her. The man teasingly stroked it against the sensitive area, though he didn’t push into her just yet. Arthur’s eyes pinned her, roaming over her heaving breasts before focusing on her drooping gaze. “Y’ready?”

 Abigail can only nod, body still trembling, before Arthur’s pushes himself inside her. The wet heat of her pussy envelopes him, and a deep and hoarse moan comes from him as he fully enters her. “Fuck, y’feel so good, darlin’.” Another breathy laugh from Abigail causes another ache, and he becomes ever more desperate for a release.

 His thrusts grow in intensity, hands still gripping her hips as he slams into her, over and over. Shivers of pleasure roll down his body, and another strangled groan as her nails begin scraping down his back. They dig into him, stinging deliciously as the pressure in his cock grows. 

 Arthur’s hands move to cup her breasts, the calluses of his fingers causing exquisite friction on her skin. He pinches a nipple lightly between his fingers before he’s leaning down and closing his lips around it. The man’s tongue flicks against the skin hardened with pleasure, his own mirroring hers. He grazes his teeth playfully against the nipple, praising her as her sounds become more frequent, “Louder for me, darlin. I want th’whole camp t’hear ya.”

 He’s pounding into her, harder and harder, the noises from Abigail growing into gasps as another orgasm builds up inside her. Arthur growls out, “Y’such a good girl, takin’ all of me so well. Y’my good lil slut, ain’tchu, sweetheart? Y’want me to fill y’up?”

 The dark-haired woman’s response is whiny as she responds with, “Yes. Oh, god— Fuck—” Her body once more trembles as she cums, pussy pulsating so enticingly around his cock. He can feel his own orgasm upon him as he releases another choked moan.

 Arthur can’t fight the building sensation for long before he’s finishing inside her. Abigail’s legs wrap around him, a vice grip, as his cock twitches with the last of his load, warmth spreading through the woman as he pants against her. His hands are shaking as he brushes a hand through his hair, head leaned back as the pulsing of his orgasm subsides. 

 With a wince, he pulls out of her and tumbles onto the bed beside her. His eyes are heavy as he clasps an arm around her, seeking comfort of a non-sexual kind. Abigail’s fingers trail soothingly against his arm, head against his chest.

 Arthur’s eyes flutter shut before he can think about what he’s just done.

[lavenderovercast]

if u write keigo x reader feather teasing i’ll love u forever (yes im being horny on main)

SENSITIVE TOUCH

here you go, you filthy freak (and for the rest of you simps, too <33) summary: on an idyllic morning with keigo, you discover just how sensitive his wings are to touch. pairing: keigo takami x gender neutral!reader warnings: 18+ content, !! MINORS DNI !! tags: wing kink, (light) praise kink, sub!keigo, teasing, clothed dry-humping, light begging, fluff, gender neutral!reader, pre-established relationship, keigo being desperate. like rly desperate, damn near disgustingly desperate

It’s an accident the first time that you do it. 

You and Keigo had been seeing each other for a few months now. That meant it was only natural to get more handsy with each other as your relationship progressed, just like it was natural for you to spend nights over in his apartment when the stars would align your schedules. Keigo had always been particular and protective when it came to his feathers and wings, but he made it clear enough to you that he didn’t mind your touch. At least, when you touched the largest of the feathers at the edges of his wings, never confident enough to move your hands any further. 

On one of the lazy mornings that you were rarely allowed to indulge in, did your hands finally roam across his wings. Beside you, Keigo had an arm curled over your torso, his face buried in his pillow. From the slow rise and fall of his body, you had the feeling that he was at least half-awake, likely scrolling through his phone mindlessly with his free hand. Half awake yourself and wanting to wish your partner a good morning, your fingers roamed across his back. 

It was a good morning, one where the pair of you could soak in each other’s company and the sunlight shining through the half-open curtains of Keigo’s balcony door. You were quiet as you ran your hands across the smooth expanse of Keigo’s lower back, slowly lifting upward. Your fingers trace the outline of his spine, grazing against old scars and firm muscles that flex as Keigo carefully adjusts his grasp on you before tilting his head to nuzzle his face into the top of your head. 

His lips press against your temple, and you’re almost certain that such a loving gesture will be followed by the sweetest of good mornings. The type of greeting that comes off of his tongue in a soft rasp full of sleep that drives you insane. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and Keigo’s awake enough to add a flirty comment to the end of his sweet greeting. Instead, Keigo gives the tiniest of gasps, so tiny that you don’t catch the sound, when your fingers reach the feathers at the base of his wings. 

The feathers at the base feel small and soft, especially in comparison to the feathers of his that you have touched. Considering how they feel against your fingertips, you figure that these are his downy feathers. They’re pleasant to the touch, and encourage you to let your hands roam up his wings. You can feel the featherlight bones that connect his wings to his spine, the feathers feeling almost thin and weak before going stronger as your hands move further up his wings. 

Almost as though you were tickling him, the plumes flutter and shift underneath your touch. It makes your lips quirk up into the tiniest of smiles. You notice that the feathers grow in both size and sturdiness the further up his wings that you go, and you find yourself letting your hands roam back down to the base. Keigo melted into your touch, his body nearly slack as you stroked your fingers through his feathers like it was no big deal. 

To him, it is very much a big deal. But he doesn’t want you to stop, because he’s never felt this close to heaven before. The sensation is beyond pleasant, running little shivers and tingles across his spine and skin. His cock is beginning to throb to life, and you haven’t even touched it. The blonde’s face grows warm with a blush as he presses his face into your hair, a low, pleased groan rumbling in his chest. The sound is unexpected and sudden to you, causing you to come back to reality. 

Your hands stop immediately as you snap away from your former observations and admiration of the man. Worry gnaws its way into your gut as you tilt your head up to look at Keigo. You can feel his fingers digging into your oversized shirt, barely grazing against the sensitive flesh of your back. From this angle, Keigo almost looks frustrated, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched. 

“Kei?” You question, your voice filled with worry as you pull your hands away from the blonde. “Are you okay? I didn’t upset you, did I?” One hand slips up to cup his face and make the blonde look down at you, but his fingers slip around your wrist and hold onto you gently before you can. The action makes your breath catch in your throat, your pulse beginning to quicken. You don’t know what’s going on through his head right now. 

You hear Keigo draw in a shaky breath, and then swallow. And that’s when you realize that his breathing has grown ragged in the minute or so that passed since you began. Keigo even feels warmer, like a heater pressed against your body as his gaze flicks down to yours. His pupils are dilated, leaving a thin ring of gold encasing their edges. 

“Please don’t stop,” Keigo breathes out shakily, his voice muffled by your hair, that he still has his face pressed against. He almost seems to be breathing you in. “That… That felt good. Really good.” He continues, the confession taking you by surprise. You furrow your eyebrows together as you slowly piece together why Keigo had been so selective with who could touch his wings. Considering his reaction…

… oh. 

  … OH. 

If the groan that he had let out just moments ago hadn’t given you enough clues as to why he wanted this so badly, then the roll of his hips against your own sure did. You could feel his erection press against your thighs, your legs loosely entangled with his own. The gesture alone is enough to make your stomach do a flip, heat quickly taking the place of your previous anxiety. Swallowing thickly, you carefully slip your hand away from his grasp with a soft nod. 

“Okay, baby,” You coo affectionately. “I’ll give you what you want.” It’s only when both of your arms snake around the man again that he seems content, a breathy sigh that sounds closer to a groan leaving his mouth. Your hands take their original place against his wings, brushing against those divinely soft feathers of his at  the base of his wings. 

Cautiously, perhaps even experimentally, you navigate your hands across those feathers, watching and listening  for Keigo’s reaction. His hips jerk against yours again, a soft motion that makes you dig your teeth into your lip. His feathers flutter under your touch as your hands roam away from the base, and to the underside of his wings. 

The second that your fingers graze against the underside, Keigo knows he’s a goner. He whines and bucks his hips again, tightening his grasp on your shirt. That fire in your belly grows stronger with the action alone, so you shift your weight so you can throw a leg over his hip; semi-straddling the man. Although the pair of you were on your sides, Keigo had no complaints about the awkward positioning. 

“Ohhh…” He gasps in a way that you’ve never heard from him before. His voice has raised in pitch, sharp and whiney as his hips begin to grind against you properly. You feel his head pull away from yours so he can press his face against the pillows, if only a little, as he digs his teeth into his lip. “F—fuck, that feels so good,” 

“Does it?” You question with a playful little smile tugging your lips up. Your question is birthed from genuine curiosity, and the desperate need to satiate your lust and his. You don’t fully understand why his wings would cause this kind of reaction from him, but you do know that you love the outcome so far. “I’ve never seen you so needy before, Kei.” 

“S—Sensitive feathers,” His voice strains into a near squeak as your fingers rub against a particular spot on the underside of his wings that has his eyes rolling back. The roll of his hips against you only grows faster, more desperate. You fucking love it. “Feels like you’re… You’re touching my…” His sentence is cut off by the way he suddenly tilts his head up and groans, the sound deep in his throat. 

But you don’t mind, because you fucking love that you can work this reaction out of the number two hero, out of your partner, out of your lover. Keigo’s head dips back down, allowing you to see the way that his golden eyes are nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. Sweat adorns his brow now, his expression one of frustration, desperation, love and lust as he gazes down at you. You want to give him everything, and yet nothing at all so you can continue to draw out this perfection rolling off of him. 

Your fingers continue to brush against his feathers, idly and gentle. Even though you can see his reaction now, you can hear and feel how good you’re making him feel, you don’t know just how crazy you’re driving him. Keigo’s mind is all but blank, his face flush with both embarrassment and want. It’s scary to be vulnerable like this, and yet he trusts you. He trusts you and he loves you, and fuck, does he just want to slam you into this goddamn bed underneath him before his dick explodes in his boxers. 

And then your fingers stop, and his breath catches with a harsh whine. “Baby?” He questions, confused. “Why… Why’d ya stop?” His hips don’t stop moving against you, though. They might slow, but he can’t give up the friction that would keep him from going fucking crazy. The way that you’re smiling up at him both confuses and excites him in a way that makes his pulse rise. 

“I wanna hear you tell me…” You breathe out, tilting your head up to leave featherlight kisses across his neck and collarbone. Keigo shudders and whines at the contact. He doesn’t think that he can last much longer, not with the expression on your face, or your body against his, or how fucking fantastic he feels now. How badly he wants your fingers on his wings again. “How much you like it, baby. And I wanna hear you beg for me to keep going, if you enjoy it this much.” 

The words roll off his tongue without hesitation. He whines and presses his face back into your hair as though it’s the last time he’s ever going to see you again. “Fuck… Fuck, please, please keep touching my wings,” He gasps, his voice coming out whiney with desperation. “No one’s ever… Touched there, and it… It feels like heaven, Baby. Your fingers are… Fucking divine.” And, if you really wanted him to, he would babble about how wonderful of a Deity you would make, because your touch truly is divine. 

In his eyes, you are fucking perfection. A perfect, merciful deity that presses their fingers back into his wings again, your touch feeling calculated as your fingers massaged through the feathers with ease. Sparks ran up his spine and across his sensitive flesh, making him groan as he continued to buck his hips against you. He knows he’s close, and if he wasn’t so desperately horny right now, he would be embarrassed. But he can barely think, barely breathe right now. 

“That’s my good boy.” You praise, and that’s what tips him over the edge. Keigo gasps as his hips stutter and jerk against you, his cock twitching as he finally reaches his much needed release. He groans your name as his head tilts back again, eyes shutting tightly as thick ropes of cum coat the inside of his boxers. 

When you look up at Keigo, his face is one of sheer ecstasy. It’s an expression that you’ve never truly seen on his face before. His feathers ruffle and shudder underneath your touch as you watch the man, happy to let him buck his hips into you at a near brutal pace before they come to a stutter, and then a stop. There’s a moment of quiet between the pair of you, the room filled with the sound of Keigo panting as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Kei…? Did you just cum?” You question, nearly cringing at how suddenly and boldly the words leave you. Keigo looks embarrassed, his face now a furious shade of red that spreads to his ears as he glances away. And then he furrows his scruffy eyebrows, a shy smile tugging his lips upward. He’s trying to save face for the fact that you just made him cum without even touching his damn dick. Nevermind the mindless humping that he just did against your thighs. 

“Not my fault I’ve got the best partner in the world,” He mumbles affectionately. “Who should probably look into becoming a massage therapist, while they’re at it. Your touch is lovely.” 

You huff and shake your head at his shenanigans, a grin on your lips. “I think I’d prefer to be your massage therapist.” You tease before moving your hands to playfully push at his chest. “Go get cleaned up, Bird Boy. I’ll be here.” 

“I’m getting back at you for this.” Keigo grumbles in response, his tone playful as he nuzzles his head against your head one more time before unwinding himself from your arms. As he slinks off the bed, you watch the avian man head toward his bathroom with a shit-eating grin on your face. 

“Sure. After you clean up.” You re-emphasize, giggling when Keigo turns his head back to you to pout at you from over his shoulder. And then he’s turning on his heel, headed back for his original destination. Although this was your first encounter with the man’s wings like this, you feel very certain that it won’t be the last.

[katsukikisses]

birds of a feather: chapter two [hawks x reader]

summary:

"There are several differences between humans and hybrids—the most obvious one being their animal attributes, which we lack, of course. But there exists another major difference that many people don't even know about. Can anyone tell me what that difference is?"

You raised your hand. You probably knew the answer better than anyone else in the classroom, considering it haunted your every waking moment.

"Hybrids have soulmates, sir. Humans do not."

(In which Keigo has a soulmate, and it's not you. This sucks, because you’ve been in love with him your whole life.)

tags: friends to lovers; mutual pining; childhood friends; eventual smut; au - no quirks; au - soulmates; au - hybrids; miscommunication (it gets resolved tho); friends with benefits; eventual happy ending; slow burn

cw:: mentions of s3x work; mentions of abuse

prefer to read on ao3? here!

“'Do not enter' is written on the door way,

Why can't everyone just go away?

Except you, you can stay,

— Alex G, Treehouse

The first time Keigo invited you over, you were ecstatic. 

The invite in itself was long overdue: the two of you had been friends for a year and neighbors for nearly two, so the fact that you’d never once stepped foot in his house during that period seemed an intentional oversight. You didn’t mind always hanging out at yours’ (rather, you quite liked having Keigo inside your house), but you were insatiably curious about how your hybrid friend lived. You wanted to know what color his bedsheets were, what kind of cereal lined his pantry—everything there was to know about a person, really. 

However, your parents always told you that inviting yourself over was very rude, so you never pushed. You eventually stopped asking “ Your place or mine? ” on the walk home from school and let your house become the default hang-out spot. That’s why, when—on a gray, inconspicuous Tuesday—Keigo asked if you’d like to come over, you were completely caught off guard.

“Wha—?” you sputtered, suddenly having lost the ability to form sentences, “Me, over? House ?”

Keigo looked pleased at the state you’d been reduced to. “Yes, you-over-house,” he mocked, “We can even us-play-video games.”

“Shut up,” you reddened. “I’m just surprised since we usually go to mine. B-but I don’t mind going to yours at all! Let’s hurry.” 

You shifted your backpack higher up on your shoulders and began speed-walking down the street, leaving Keigo behind you. You didn’t want to give him the time to change his mind. The blonde snorted and quickened his pace to match yours. 

Soon, the two of you made it to your street. You took a brief moment to dash inside your own house and yell that you were going to Keigo’s—eliciting surprised Okay s from your parents—before dashing back across the street to Keigo’s side. Laughing at your eagerness, he unlocked the front door and entered, leaving you to follow. 

Your first impression of the Takami household was that it was similar to yours: staircase left of the foyer, living room connected to the kitchen. The parallels were to be expected, given that your houses were most likely built by the same construction company—but that was where the similarities stopped. Unlike your house, which your mother kept fastidiously white and empty, Keigo’s was full of life. The walls were painted a pretty sage green, and lined with pictures of Keigo, his mother, and an older couple you assumed were his grandparents. The windowsills were also filled with all sorts of plants and herbs, adding a welcome splash of color to the room. It was a stark contrast to the sad, blank interior of your own abode—Keigo’s house had character .

“I know it’s not as nice as yours,” Keigo apologized as he watched you take in your surroundings. “My mom insists on keeping all these dumb plants and—”

“Keigo, I love your house!” you exclaimed, cutting him off. “It’s so much prettier compared to mine. I wish Mom would let us paint our walls or keep plants, but apparently Architectural Digest says that’s not Beige Chic , or whatever.”

Keigo smiled. He knew he shouldn’t have doubted your reaction. “Okay, well once you’re done admiring my pretty house, come upstairs so I can beat you at Mario Kart.”

Your eyes flashed excitedly, immediately leaving the picture you were inspecting to follow after Keigo. “Sure you will. Hey, remind me again who’s the reigning champion?”

The blonde gave you an irritated look, but before he could retort, you were pushing past him up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was what you’d been most curious about on your walk back, and you couldn’t wait any longer to see it. Ignoring Keigo’s words of protest, you opened the door.

“Wow,” you blinked at the sight. “It’s very…angry.”

You didn’t know what you’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been… this . Keigo’s bedroom was practically devoid of anything except for Endeavor , his favorite superhero. The walls were plastered with posters of the flame hero, and a row of his figurines lined Keigo’s desk. Atop the twin-sized bed—fitted with white bedsheets, white covers, and a white pillow—sat a small Endeavor stuffie, smoldering at you menacingly from across the room. 

You spun around to face your friend. “Keigo, I didn’t you were a fanboy!”

In the doorway of his room, Keigo blushed furiously. His wings bristled behind him—a telltale sign that he was agitated. 

“It’s not—I’m not a fanboy ,” he exclaimed, “I just happen to like the show! And they always have a lot of his merch at the thrift and—you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just sit down.”

Laughing, you took a seat on the carpet and faced his XBox. “Whatever you say, fanboy .”

Keigo valiantly ignored your comment and began rifling through a box of controllers. You took this time to take in the rest of his room, which, aside from the Endeavor paraphernalia, was completely unassuming. There wasn’t much furniture other than a bed and desk, and what little else Keigo did possess was painted in dull shades of grey. The only splash of color was the green sweater he’d been wearing yesterday, now stuffed haphazardly into his drawers. Your eyes lazily followed the outline of the cabinet, until they reached the small box resting atop it.  

“What’s that?” you pointed to the box curiously.

Keigo looked up from where he’d been setting up the XBox—an ancient thing he and his mom had scored at Goodwill—and spotted what you were pointing at. “Oh, that’s my wing-keeping kit.”

“Wing-keeping?”

“Yeah,” he shifted his wings, letting them catch rays from the window. The red plumes gleamed like rubies. “You didn’t think they were naturally like this, did you? This kind of exquisiteness requires serious upkeep, YN”

“Oh,” you said dumbly. The sight of Keigo’s feathers fluttering was nothing short of mesmerizing, and, for some reason, you liked that he was showing off to you. “Can I see the tools?”

The words left your mouth before you could think about them. You watched as Keigo’s wings immediately came to a still, and you internally groaned. Here we go. 

Over the course of your year-long friendship with Keigo, you’d come to learn a lot about the blonde. You knew that he liked superhero shows (specifically Endeavor: Legend of the Flame ) and that his favorite subject was History. He could run a 7-minute mile—the fastest out of all the fourth-grade boys—and he was a fiend for fried chicken. You knew that, despite being relatively popular, he didn’t really like the other kids at school, and you were probably the closest thing to a best friend that he had. And most importantly, you knew to never, ever talk about hybrids around him. 

At first, you figured he was just annoyed by your curiosity. As the only hybrid in your class, Keigo was constantly being probed by your classmates about his wings or eye markings. He’d never ignore their questions, of course, always answering good-naturedly—but the tight-lipped smile he wore during those interactions betrayed his agitation. A your friendship progressed and you interacted more frequently with the blonde, though, you realized it wasn’t just questions about himself that irritated Keigo—it was whenever humans talked about hybrids at all . The week your class covered Japan’s history of hybrid discrimination, Keigo had resolutely faced the window and didn’t take a single note; and whenever Endeavor fought a hybrid villain on screen, Keigo huffed and asked to skip the episode. Little incidents like those deterred you from asking any questions related to his bird appendages, and even more from inquiring the reason behind his anger. 

Thus, you’d gone an entire year avoiding discussing anything hybrid-related with him. You figured that, as with him not inviting you in, he’d eventually get over it—you were sitting in his room right now, weren’t you? Plus, he couldn’t hate humans altogether if he was friends with you. There must be a logical reason behind his behavior, you reasoned.

Except, now you’d blown any chance of ever getting to the bottom of it, since you decided to open your big fat mouth and ask about his wings. And the first time he invited me over, too , you bemoaned internally. You’d at least wanted to see the kitchen before you got kicked out!

“Um, sorry,” you backtracked, “I don’t know why I asked that. It’s personal, I know—sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Keigo replied, equally hesitant. He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a daunting task. “Um, if you really want to see, I can show you. The tools, I mean.”

Your jaw nearly fell to the ground. “Really? I can see?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal,” he said, sounding as though it were absolutely a big deal. He walked over to his cabinet and swiped the kit off the top. You watched, disbelieving, as he made his way back to you and deposited the kit unceremoniously in your lap. 

The first thing you registered about the kit was that it was heavy—heavier than it looked. It was constructed of smooth wood paneling and was about the size of a book. There was no indication of what resided in it except for a small feather engraved on the top, and perhaps the faint smell of essential oils emitting from it: rosemary and castor, you picked out, among others. Your fingers fluttered over the ridges of the box, and, with one final glance at Keigo, you lifted the lid off the top. 

As the smell suggested, the inside of the kit was lined with various oils, each labeled something different. Laying next to the oils, their sharp edges cushioned by the velvet interior, was a collection of tools. There were shears of various sizes, as well as several brushes and clippers. They glinted menacingly in the afternoon light, causing you to hold back a shudder; you couldn’t imagine using tools like that on your own body. 

Keigo watched your expression carefully. “I have to trim and condition my feathers about every two weeks,” he explained, “Or else they’ll get tangled and torn.” 

“I didn’t realize they required so much attention,” you tore your attention away from the box and faced him. And, for the second time that day, your mouth moved before your brain. “Can you show me? How you do it?”

“...Sure,” he said after a momentary pause, looking faintly amused by your request. “It’s been a while since I last trimmed them, anyway.” 

He began picking out various tools and oils from the box. You leaned forward, eager to see which ones he chose. When it came to Keigo, it felt like you could never know enough about him. 

He lined the three oils he’d grabbed—labeled “primaries”, “secondaries”, and “contour”, respectively—on the floor. “The different vials are for different parts of my wings,” he said, extending out his left wing as he spoke. “My primary feathers are these long feathers out here, and the inner ones are called secondaries. And these are my contour feathers, which make me more aerodynamic—they help me fly better, basically,” he amended, noticing your blank stare. “But before I do that, I have to trim them.”

As he finished his explanation, he removed a large tablecloth from the bottom of the kit and unfolded it on the floor. He picked up one of the shears he’d taken out earlier and began trimming off the edges of his wings onto the cloth. Red tufts fluttered to the floor, like autumn leaves shaken out of a tree. You stared, enthralled, before his earlier words registered in your mind. 

“Wait, fly? I thought you weren’t…allowed to,” you trailed off, realizing you were approaching dangerous territory. Hybrid Limitations were one of the most contentious topics in Japan, and you figured that Keigo, as an avian hybrid, would have his share of thoughts on it. 

Instead of becoming upset at the turn of the conversation, though, he merely shook his head. “I’m not,” he confirmed. His words were punctuated by the steady snip of shears coming down around another feather. “This kit was passed down to me from my grandfather, and during his time there weren’t restrictions on winged hybrids. So it still contains flight-care stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, “Do you wish you could fly?” 

Keigo peered at you through the folds of his wing. Randomly, you were struck by the memory of the first time he came to your house; cold and wet, focused on drying off his wings while you chattered annoyingly at him. 

“Maybe,” he set down the shears and picked up one of the vials of oil. Surprised, you realized he was already done with trimming. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to, though.”

Keigo gave his wings a firm ruffle, shaking off any lingering feather trimmings. Then, he poured a small bit of oil into his palms and began carding them gently through his longest feathers—the primaries, you recalled. You watched in silence as he worked down his wing, coating each plume in a thin layer of oil. Usually when Keigo was focused on something, he had a look of intense concentration on his face: brows pinched, eyes narrowed. Yet, now, his expression was relaxed and peaceful. You realized that this must be calming for him.

As he got closer to his inner feathers, though, he had to strain his neck to oil them properly, and his tranquil expression dissolved into a more concentrated one. “My mom usually helps me with the back,” he explained, sounding slightly frustrated, “It’s harder for me to see back there and—”

“I can help you,” you said. Keigo’s hands stilled in his wings, and you wondered a bit too late if your offer had been inappropriate. But you’d already breached all sorts of boundaries today, so what was one more? 

Keigo cleared his throat. “Um, sure. Come, uh—come closer.” 

“Okay,” you shuffled over to behind him. “Um, what do I…”

“Grab the oil labeled ‘secondaries’.”

“Okay.”

“Pour a little into your hands—yeah, that’s good. And let it heat up a bit in your palms.”

“Okay.”

“Now, you see the feathers at the bottom of my wings? The shorter ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Work the oil into them, from the root to the ends.” 

“Okay,” you gulped. Your hands, covered in a sharp-smelling oil, shook as you reached toward the feathers. I have to do this right , you thought determinedly—you couldn’t bear it if you accidentally hurt Keigo. 

Slowly, you grabbed the outermost feather and began working the oil into it. If your own hands hadn’t been shaking so badly, you might’ve noticed the way Keigo’s wings shuddered, too. 

After you got through the first few feathers without doing any damage—and leaving Keigo content, seemingly—you became more confident in your abilities. Your movements were more fluid, and your shoulders untensed—you could see why your friend found this relaxing. 

Once you finished the secondaries, you moved on to the last section: his contour feathers. You picked up the appropriately labeled oil and found that it was much fuller than the other two. Recalling what Keigo said about not being able to fly, you sadly realized that those feathers probably didn’t get as much use as his other ones, and necessitated less maintenance. With newfound vigor, you uncapped the vial and poured a generous amount into your palms.

“I hope,” you began, “That you get a lot of use out of this oil one day.”

“I hope not,” Keigo replied quietly, “That’s the most expensive one.”

(He knew what you meant, though.)

It was rare for Takami Toomie to see her house during the day. 

Well, it was nearing evening, technically, but sunlight was sunlight. Between her job at the restaurant, the hospital, and…the other one, she’d practically become a vampire—she couldn’t remember the last time she came home before midnight. But today all the stars had aligned perfectly: her coworker had agreed to trade shifts, the hospital hadn’t called her in, and—best of all—the fried chicken ordered from their restaurant never got picked up, leaving it up for grabs. 

Toomie recalled staring at the steaming bucket of chicken for the entire pick-up hour, and then snatching it up the moment the clock struck four. She’d flushed when her coworkers saw her shove the food into her bag—but their judgment would be nothing compared to the joy of seeing Keigo smile. It was something that happened too infrequently for Toomie’s liking. Though, it’s not exactly like I encourage him to be more carefree , she thought guiltily. 

Shaking off her remorse, she pushed through the front door of her home. Smiling at the sight of rays filtering in through the window—something she’d been deprived of far too long—she meandered over to the kitchen and set down the bucket. A glance at the clock told her that Keigo was already back at school, and her smile widened. They could eat together! 

She grabbed her phone from her bag and began searching for the LNs contact. She assumed Keigo was with them, considering he slept over practically every day—something she tried not to be bothered by. She knew it was lonely for him here and that it was good for him to have friends, but she couldn’t help but be wary of the situation. YN seemed like a sweet kid, on the few occasions she’d met them, yet you could never be sure…

She sighed as finally found the contact. Keigo would be a little upset at being called back early, she figured, but his disappointment would definitely disappear as soon as he saw the chicken. Plus, the two of them hadn’t had dinner together in forever. Reaffirmed in her decision, Toomie made to hit Call on the contact—but just as her finger was about to tap the screen, she noticed the faint sounds of conversation coming from upstairs. 

Toomie paused. It sounded like two kids...did Keigo have a friend over? Curiously, she made her way to the stairwell and strained to listen, wings shifting nervously behind her. Keigo never told her that he was inviting someone over, and he wasn’t the type to sneak around behind her back. Immediately, terrible thoughts filled Toomie’s head. What if someone had followed Keigo home and they were hurting him upstairs? Or what if someone had broken in and were robbing them? Panicked, she dashed up the stairs, wings flapping madly behind her. They ached from disuse, but she didn’t even register the pain. Her only thoughts were Keigo , Keigo , Keigo . 

She threw open his bedroom door, and the sight that greeted her was more horrible than any robbery or bullying. Keigo was sitting on the floor, wings spread out to their maximum length, while you kneeled behind him, gently carding oil through his inner-most feathers. Next to you was Keigo’s wing-keeping kit—a gift from his grandfather, her father —with various tools and vials spilling out of it. Everything was out in the open for you to see.

At the sound of the door hitting the wall, Keigo turned around. “Mom?” his eyes widened. “When did you get back?”

“Just now,” she replied, her eyes flitting between the two of you. “You didn’t tell me you were having guests over, Keigo.”

Hearing this, you sheepishly stood and bowed to her. Your hands, still covered in oil, hung awkwardly in the hair. 

“I’m sorry for coming over uninvited, Takami-san,” you apologized, “I should’ve had my parents call you.” 

At the sight of your nervousness, Toomie’s agitation subsided. “It’s alright, YN-chan,” she said, attempting a kind tone. But her day had been long and she’d worked the night shift beforehand and—she just wanted to have dinner with her son. “I’m just surprised, is all. Plus, it’s Keigo who should’ve said something.”

She turned her attention back to her son. “You need to tell me when you have hu- people over, Kei.”

She barely managed to cover her slip-up. Keigo raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. 

“Well, I didn’t know you were even going to see them, since you don’t usually get back until later. Why are you back this early anyway?”

Toomie groaned internally. Wasn’t he a little young for the rebellious stage? “I got off work early,” she said tightly, “And I thought we could have dinner toge—”

“Is that chicken I smell?” Keigo cut her off, finally registering the mouth-watering smell wafting from the kitchen. His wings, freshly clipped and conditioned, raised excitedly. Toomie couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Oh, well then I should probably go,” you said awkwardly, wiping your oil-covered hands off on your school uniform. Toomie wished she could’ve told you to not do that, as wing-keeping oils were notoriously difficult to get out of clothes—your skirt would permanently have greasy handprints on them now. But before she could say something, you were nimbly sliding past her in the doorway and into the hall. 

“Please enjoy your dinner!” you smiled at the two of them. 

Keigo jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran after you. “Wait, YN,” he said, “Don’t go yet.” 

He glanced briefly at his mother, asking her an unspoken question. But the woman was looking at you, still wringing your hands awkwardly in the hallway.

Toomie exhaled softly through her nose. After all those free dinners they gave Keigo , she thought miserably, Practically every day of the year…how could I even come close to repaying them? 

“Yes, YN-chan, we would love for you stay for dinner,” she lied, “Do you like fried chicken?” 

Your eyes practically sparkled as you thanked her excitedly, assuring her that, yes, you loved fried chicken. As the three of you made your way down the stairs, Keigo pulling you by the wrist, Toomie couldn’t help but mourn her lost dinner. The bucket was a share-size, yet with how much Keigo ate, he could probably put away the entire thing—it had been a stretch for the two of them to share, much less three people. Looks like the two of you would be having an adult-free dinner, tonight . Toomie sighed, resigning herself to a trip to the konbini . She’d refrained from snacking on kitchen scraps and sent-back meals as she usually did during her shift, not wanting to spoil her appetite, and this was the result. Honestly, with her evening plans now canceled, she might as well just head back to work; clearly, she could use the extra money. 

Toomie watched as Keigo tugged you into the kitchen and began pulling plates and silverware out of the drawers. She wondered how she could gracefully bow out of the dinner—kids didn’t really think too hard about that sort of stuff, but she also didn’t want you to tell your parents that Toomie didn’t bother spending any time with you. She was already going to be the mom who brought back a bucket of fried chicken as dinner, for God’s sake.  

Still ruminating over her dilemma, Toomie didn’t notice you seemingly lost in your own thoughts. Even as Keigo set the dinner table—with three spots, the little idealist—you remained standing, simply staring at the bucket. 

“Actually, Keigo-kun, Takami-san,” you started, spinning around to face them, “I have a good idea! My parents are having yakisoba tonight, along with some other vegetables. Fried chicken goes great with yakisoba, doesn’t it? We should take it over to my house and eat together! My mom’s always asking you to come over anyways, Takami-san.”

You finished with a bright grin on your face. Toomie only blinked in response. 

(Perhaps you deserved a little more credit than she gave you.) 

“That’s really nice of you to offer, dear. I think we’ll take you up on that.” Toomie managed. From across the kitchen, Keigo gaped at her—she knew he’d expected her to decline. “You’re too polite, YN-chan.” 

You, too, seemed somewhat shocked that Toomie had actually accepted—not that she blamed you, consdiering the amount of times she’d turned down your family’s invitations in the past. But you recovered quickly, your blinding grin overtaking your face once more.

“It’s my pleasure,” you said brightly. You picked up the bucket of chicken and started out the door, suddenly heading the whole operation. “I hope we can eat before the sun sets!” 

Keigo hurriedly shoved the plates back into the drawers and dashed after you, calling for you to wait for him. Toomie smiled at the sight, before sighing again and walking over to the fridge. She began rifling through its contents—some leftovers from work, a pack of expired beer—in hopes of dredging up a side dish. Impromptu as this dinner was, she couldn’t be so pathetic as to only show up with cold fried chicken. 

Yet, despite the sad state of her life, and the fact that nothing about her evening had gone to plan—Toomie couldn’t help but feel content.  

Maybe YN would be good for the two of them. 

author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to come out. This chapter explores more of Keigo's life since the first chapter was very reader-focused, but Toomie's also able to give us an outsider's perspective on YN. I think due to having very present and communicative parents she's become emotionally intelligent at a young age (which I see in a lot of the kids at the private school I work at lol); however, a lot of the practical application still depends on socializing with kids her age and besides Keigo she doesn't have a lot of practice with that…but we'll see more in the coming chapters 🫣🫣

Thanks for reading and I can't wait to see you guys in the next chapter!

[lavenderovercast]

An Itch You Can't Reach

pairing: midna x link // twilight princess summary: Midna helps Link when he struggles with an itch, and they both discover something new about him. warnings: none, just general fluff with my babies <33 notes: this is an older fic that was posted on my ao3, click here to check it out over there!

She had noticed that Link was dealing with an itch that he couldn’t reach when they set up camp for the night. The shadow had watched the man closely as he hitched Epona for the night, before setting up a small fire to keep the pair warm in the cold desert. Midna had come to two conclusions as she watched the Hylian repeatedly pause in setting down sticks and wood to scratch at the back of his head, toward his ear. 

First conclusion: The light world is something that is beyond her comprehension and understanding. It doesn’t make sense to the cursed princess how the desert can be so warm throughout the day, but then freezing in the night. In her world, the one that she still misses so very dearly — there’s only one temperature that her surroundings would land on, and it was an accommodating warmth that bordered on a chill that brought her comfort. At the very least, it was consistent, unlike the weather within this realm. Always on and off, always changing. 

Just like their sun, their sky — it always shifts and changes in a way that is both unnerving and fascinating. The sky would shift from light to day, and then day to night with a varying number of colors hanging somewhere in the middle of it. Her favorite time of hour proved to be twilight, though, when this world resembled hers the most — when familiar shades of oranges, purples, and blues would dance across her skin and temporarily alleviate her homesickness. Even with Midna growing fond of the light realm, although she wasn’t willing to admit such a thing to even Link… She wanted to go home. 

The longing lingering in her chest was fierce enough to bring her to her second conclusion because it brought her to a subject that made her much happier. 

Second conclusion: Link is a very, very silly man. With ruffled hair and his nose scrunched in his frustration, the imp finds herself pessimistically wondering how exactly he could be the hero of both realms. But her thoughts trail back to all of his previous efforts, his kindness, his bravery — his need to protect those around him, no matter how callous they were toward him. He would always put such a serious face forward when it came to his duty. 

He had gone as far as to save her life, even though she didn’t deserve it. Midna had seen him work, had seen his kind heart — when she had requested Zelda spare his life and let her fade to the light sickness that she was bound to succumb to, she truly believed that her home would be in the right hands with Link. But Zelda had shown the same kindness that Link did to her, and he hadn’t dared try to stop the princess. 

It had left Midna confused, at the time. If she’s honest, she’s still confused. Their sacrifices for her sake, when she only ever had selfish intentions, were… Unreasonable. Weren’t they? She can’t help tracing her fingers over the mark that Zelda’s sacrifice left across her skin, and feels her chest tighten.

Even with all of this seriousness in mind, the gravity of their situation, their titles… Link still manages to be… Silly. He often looks ridiculous in her eyes. He sticks his nose in places that it doesn’t belong in, collects bugs for a pseudo princess named Agatha, and is even willing to entertain some of the dumbest things that Midna’s ever bore witness to. Like being shot out of a cannon into a desert, riding down from a platform on a cuckoo, of all things! 

Don’t even get her started on when they run into an animal — he absolutely insists on picking them up and visiting them, even going as far as to try and convince the imp that they should take a companion with. ( Her favorite quip to that suggestion would be to tell him “Why do we need two when we already have you?”, and he would shut right up ). But her secretly least despised trait of Link’s was his need to help others, to check in on his loved ones. To make sure that no one is left behind.  That all adds to his charm, and she finds it absolutely captivating how Link can manage to be so happy in such dire times. He’s always willing to do good, to do the right thing… And she finds herself wanting to do the same thing, to follow in his lead. He inspires her. 

So when Link settles down after setting the fire up, but is still trying to scratch at the spot that he simply can’t seem to hit correctly for whatever reason… Midna decides that it’s time to intervene, and take a page from his book. It’s small and nowhere near Link’s own charity, but maybe this is a step in the right direction to following his footsteps. 

“Help with what?” He asks with that clueless look on his face, looking like the endearingly oblivious man that he’s always been. Her eyebrows lift up in response. 

“You’ve been scratching?” Midna retorts, a little bewildered that the Hylian doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “You’ve been doing it since we arrived. I hope you don’t have fleas.” The imp presses, flashing a grin in the process. 

Link looks offended, his eyes widening before narrowing into a half-hearted glare. “Oh, ha ha ha…” The man grumbles, and then reaches around his neck, looking frustrated again before sighing in defeat. “... Yeah. I do need your help. Maybe you can reach it.” 

“Okay, then sit,” Midna states with a playful grin. “And don’t get your bugs on me, you know I think they’re gross.” The fiery haired imp teases, watching her companion roll his eyes but comply. It’s only when he’s sat down that she runs a cool hand carefully against his warm skin, nails brushing against the spot that she had seen him scratching at previously. 

“Tell me when I’ve reached it” She tells him, taking the nod of Link’s head as a sign of his acknowledgment. Eventually, she knows that she’s found the spot that’s been bothering Link because he gives a relieved sigh. 

“Right there,” The man states, sounding relieved as he leans into her touch. Midna hums in amusement at such a reaction but is happy to provide her companion some relief for the time being. That is… Until she notices his leg start moving. It’s subtle, at first, just a simple bob. But it quickly evolves into a full kick, and Link groans with satisfaction. 

“Been bugging me all day…” The man rumbles, sounding as though he isn’t aware of the reaction that his leg is currently having. Midna can’t help but grin, digging her canine into her bottom lip. Link looks a little too peaceful, his eyes lulling shut and his head leaned against her small hand. 

“I can tell,” She begins with a mischievous giggle. “But wow, I didn’t think you’d be kicking your leg like a dog — it must be a wolfy thing that you carried on over.” She watches as Link’s eyes open, confusion crossing over his features as he looks at her. Midna, in return, silently gestures to the Hylian’s kicking leg with a nudge of her head. 

When he looks in the direction that she’s looking toward, his face flushes with a violent stain of red. Midna can’t help but grin further at the Hylian’s reaction, a giggle bubbling up in her chest before escaping through her mouth. “Aw, you don’t gotta be embarrassed!” 

“Shut up,” Link barks back, sending a glare toward Midna that she knows isn’t genuine. His own lips are pulling into a smile, although his hands move to swat her hand away. “That’s… That’s enough, Mid.” 

In response, Midna places both of her hands on her hips with a taunting, playful pout. “Aw, that’s no way to thank me!” 

“For your cruelty and teasing?” Link barks back, a playful grin now etching his own features before he joins in her chuckling. She would never admit it aloud to the Hylian, but it feels good to see Link smile, to hear him laugh. No matter what or who it’s caused by. Whether he’s being silly or doing something that she deems silly. It’s so much better than seeing that forlorn or angry expression that would overcome his features in battle. 

“Exactly that. I make your life exciting, and besides… You’d still be in a cage if it wasn’t for me.” Midna retorts, shifting her weight so she can lean against his shoulder, glancing toward the fully prepared fire. The warmth that comes off of Link and the fire itself makes something crackle and pop in her heart. 

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty,” Link grumbles playfully, leaning forward to grab his satchel. He doesn’t see the irony in his playful title for her, but she does. “Whatever should I do to repay you? Make something for us to eat for the night?” 

“Why… That sounds like the perfect repayment.” Midna states with another giggle, moving away from the Hylian in favor of sitting beside him. Link hums in response and Midna is momentarily preoccupied with watching her companion look for his cooking supplies before becoming bored and casting her gaze upward.

Still hovering as she always does, the imp shifts her weight so she can lean back fully, her arms supporting her head. The night sky looks back down at her, white stars twinkling in the sky beside a full moon. Although she misses the shades of purple and oranges that the Twilight hour of this world provided, Midna can’t say that she dislikes the night sky. Not anymore. 

She can’t say that she dislikes the warmth that comes over her cool skin either, provided by the fire and the green-cladded hero beside her. Although homesickness still stirs somewhere in the back of her mind and the imp is eager to finish their completion of the twilight mirror tomorrow, Midna can’t help but feel… Warm. Happy. It’s nice to relax like this, to be beside her wolf. 

For tonight, everything is light hearted and perfect.