I love the idea of Eddie having an especially grueling day at work his friend (they have mutual feelings but nothing has been said) offers to give him a massage. Eddie is genuinely grateful but also vv flustered by the end!!
listen. LISTEN. i know this got out of hand. i know i said these were going to stay short n sweet. i know what i said and promised. but. listen. you can't hand me a prompt that is just so delicious, with so much potential to sprinkle in a light dusting of angst, and to give me the chance to garnish with a beautiful open ending full of promise, and not expect a monster of a product to come from it. you just can't. i'm sorry. i hope you enjoy this, regardless. even if it's not quite bite-sized.
warnings: seemingly unrequited love that turns into clearly idiots in love. eddie gets shirtless. that's all.
wc: 4.4k+ yikes
It had started off as an innocent, well-intentioned offer. You swear it did.
When Eddie had called you right after pulling a double at the garage, begging to come over and simply relax at your apartment, you’d set up to allow him to do just that. You’d cleaned up a little bit, lit a candle that normally gave you a headache if it burned too long but that Eddie loved, prepped a selection of movies for him to choose from, pulled out the menu for your favorite take-out – you’d gone the whole nine yards for your best friend.
Someone might even point out it wasn’t just best friend behavior at this point. Steve and Robin alike had certainly called out your behavior at times, coining it as “girlfriend behavior on a best friend salary”.
You didn’t care. You were well aware of what you were doing, and you didn’t care.
You’d spend the rest of your life on the best friend salary, as the two dinguses had so lovingly called it, for the look of sheer peace on Eddie’s face right now.
He’s leaning back on the opposite end of your couch from you, knees spread and chin facing the ceiling as he sighs in bliss. Take-out containers are scattered about the coffee table, and his movie of choice of Return of the Jedi is about halfway over on your TV.
You both had already chosen a second movie – The Lost Boys. The plans for the night were set in stone.
You tuck both knees up beneath your chin, side-glancing your best friend for a second and ignoring the flutter of your chest as you watch him sink deeper into the cushions, “We can talk about it, y’know.”
“Hm?”
“Your day,” you adjust a bit, turning your body to face him fully, “If you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears. We’ve already seen enough Jabba the Hutt to last a lifetime.”
That earns a smile from him, slowly crackling over his cheeks as he rolls his head towards you, “I dunno. Is there such thing as enough Jabba the Hutt?”
You toss a piece of your sour watermelon candy at him, and despite it landing on his shirt, he still grabs it to pop it into his mouth.
You try not to think too hard about how that shirt had been sitting in your drawers, clean and neatly folded, occupying space as if that might be normal. As if everyone has some of their best friend’s clothes at their apartment that they can change into after a long day at work.
As if everyone has occasionally used said shirt as pajamas on nights they particularly miss the scent of their best friend’s cologne.
“Shut up,” you finally snicker, dropping your knees from your chin, sitting criss-cross now, “We don’t have to talk about your day if you don’t feel like it. By all means, if you wanna keep drooling over an alien slug, be my guest-”
At your teasing, Eddie moves quickly to grab one of your ankles, pulling your feet towards his lap before you can register what he’s doing. You gasp a little, and it’s definitely not because of the feeling of his warm palms wrapped around your bare skin. Totally not at the rush of warmth that travels up your body, head to toe, when you feel his rings pressing into you so eagerly.
Absolutely not. You gasp, because anybody would gasp in this scenario. Because you’re just best friends. And best friends do stuff like that.
“I am not drooling over a slug,” he chastises, grinning recklessly as he wiggles his fingers menacingly, mere inches from the bottom of your foot, “Take it back, or pay the price, baby.”
Has he ever called you baby before?
Certainly not, if your roaring heart has anything to say about it.
“Don’t you dare,” you squeal – genuinely squeal – as you try and tug your legs out of his grasp. It’s a useless effort; he’s too strong, even after his long day, and your body isn’t even sure if it approves of taking his hands off of you. “Edward Munson, I swear to God-”
It’s a mess of flailing limbs, painful laughter, and high-pitched screams from there. Squeaks from your own mouth, and a few from Eddie, mocking you all in good fun as he continues to persist for you to take it back. For just a moment, it feels like this is the normal – you’re living in a space where Eddie comes home from every day, grueling or effortless, to you. Where the two of you always end up on the couch together, bodies touching in any way they can. Where there’s always background noise on the TV as his focus is solely on you, smiling foolishly at his antics that were really just a simple effort to hear your laughter. Where your laughter is the only thing he really wants to hear at the end of the night, and it’s the greatest thing he’s ever heard.
A world where he tells you as much.
A world where after this, he’s reaching the knob of your shared bedroom door rather than the front door of your lonesome apartment.
A world where you aren’t existing on a best friend salary.
“Had enough yet, sweetheart?” he quips, just as breathless as you are from the struggle. This time, the nickname he uses is normal. It took you off guard during the first few months of friendship, but now? Your weary heart could handle it, cherish it even, and not let your stupid little crush get in the way of appreciating it. “All you have to say are the magic words.”
“Are the magic words, you’re a dickhead?”
“Hm,” he pretends to ponder thoughtfully for just a second before shaking his hand, “‘Fraid not. Try again?”
Instead of verbally replying, you give him a gentle kick in the stomach. Not the magic words he had in mind, but they sure do the trick.
He lets out a soft oomph, one arm cradling his midsection as though you actually hurt him. You take it as your cue to remove your legs – his dramatics quickly come to a halt to prevent just that.
It’s probably meant to be subtle, the way both his arms fall down over your calves and keep your feet in his lap, but it has the capability to implode your entire world.
“I can’t believe you’re being mean to me after the day I’ve had,” he whines, and all you can focus on is the way his thumb is rhythmically stroking the ball of your ankle now, “Me, your best friend, has had the most awful day and you-”
“Now you wanna talk about it?” you laugh a little, rolling your eyes at him.
“Absolutely.”
“After you’ve just tortured me?”
“Well, yeah. When else would I talk about it?”
“I’m rescinding my offer to listen,” you continue to joke, making one more good faith offer to slip your legs from his lap. And, once more, he won’t allow it.
He whines out a long, drawn out no, starting to lay his entire body across your legs this time. More direct, more to the point. Subtleties have been forgotten, you suppose.
You don’t know if it’s more for you, or for him. You just know you like it. You like existing within a sneak preview of a girlfriend salary.
“You never answered me, drama queen,” you murmur as the joking lean across your legs becomes a bit more heavy, and Eddie is more genuinely collapsing his figure into your lap. He doesn’t even have to ask, or gesture – your fingers find home within his hair, and you can feel his hum of content against your thigh as you scratch along his scalp, “Do you wanna talk about it?”
All joking pretenses slip away from him as he mumbles out a muffled, “Not really.”
And you can work with that. You swear, you can.
If you’d been so ready to lend a listening ear, then you can offer him this peace and quiet. A simple head massage as he leans into you, cheeks pressed to the top of your thigh as you think he returns to watching Return of the Jedi.
His eyes might be closed, if his heavy breaths are anything to go off of. You’re just not sure.
You just keep up your massage, sluggish strokes, clement scratches, deep breaths to match his own-
And then, an idea hits you.
“Eds,” you whisper, your hand in his hair traveling to his shoulders, shaking him a bit, “Eddie.”
Only a grunt in response.
“Eddie, seriously, get up,” you stress, overeager, “I have an idea.”
“The apartment better be on fire,” he grumbles as he finally raises his head, face imprinted with the lines of your shorts in rolling hills of soft indents.
Definitely was sleeping. Definitely wasn’t watching Star Wars.
But even with his shoulders wrapped with dreary slumber, you’re still excited about your idea, motioning him to sit up fully. You let him take his time, of course, only after he swats your hands away sluggishly a few times.
Once his back is straight, you lift one finger in the air, and draw a circle – motioning for him to turn his back to you without saying a word.
His eyes narrow to slits at you, “Are you about to pull a prank on me? Because-”
“I’m not,” you assure him, reaching for his shoulders, nearly turning him yourself, “Scout’s honor.”
He listens to you. Despite it all, despite his seeming mistrust, he turns his back to you. More specifically, he turns his shoulders to you.
He’s still mumbling on about how you better not make his day worse, getting a little bit snappier when you gather his hair up to lay out of your way and claiming his scalp was extra sensitive today.
You pay his attitude no mind. He’s just grumpy. It doesn’t particularly phase you after years of close friendship.
“Listen, I know you like braiding my hair, but-” he continues with his protests as you grin behind him, shaking your head as you settle yourself closer to him. Knees bumping his hips, back straight for the time being. “I’d rather just nap right now. And I was really comfy, and really getting my rocks off to that damn alien slug-”
All his words cut off when you finally put your plan into action. Your palms fall atop his shoulders, fingers curling around the tense skin, and he’s melting before you’ve even begun.
“I- Oh,” he jumps a little at the first squeeze, but quickly returns to being pliant in your hold, “Oh… That’s…. That’s nice.”
You continue your massage, gently squeezing, thumbs and fingers digging into any knots you find to work them away as you jeer, “Is it now?”
He nods, the smallest of movements as to not interrupt your work, “It is. ‘S real nice.”
His head rolls with each pinch of your fingers, posture loosening as he leans back into your touch further.
You take it a step further, biting back nerves when you slip your hands beneath the collar of his old t-shirt. You feel the shiver begin before it races down his spine at the press of your skin directly on his now.
Your warm hands work dutifully, determined to bring as much relaxation to your best friend as possible. Definitely not enjoying yourself a bit too much at his smooth skin under your palms. Definitely not enjoying yourself just as much as he is. Certainly not.
The shirt constricts you, though. Prevents your hands from traveling fully over sore spots you can feel the edges of. Catching your wrists, limiting the full potential of your movements.
You’re glad he can’t see you as you suddenly request, “Take your shirt off.”
“Hm?” he can’t form a proper word at first, not startled but simply sunken too deep in his relaxation, “What was that?”
“I need your shirt off, Munson.”
You try to sound brave, nonchalant, as you repeat yourself. You don’t want him to hear the fluttering of your heart – you don’t want him to hear the shake of your hands as you remove them from him.
You only want him to hear the totally reasonable request from a friend, who is simply trying to offer the best massage possible to their best friend who’s had a bad day.
“Oh?” he looks over his shoulder, and you can see the edges of his raised brows through messy bangs, “Damn, sweetheart. If you wanted me naked, you just had to ask.”
Can ribs break from a heart beating too fast? Is that even possible?
“I did ask,” your voice is flat as a trade off to avoid any quivering to filtrate it, lips pressing tightly together as you swallow your heart, “So get to it.”
He leans forward, putting a bit of distance between you two before he reaches back to grab the center of his shirt. The fabric comes off with a flourish, and all you’re left face to face with is the bare expanse of his back.
You silently beg him not to look back over his shoulder, if only for just a second.
You’ve seen Eddie shirtless plenty of times. At pool parties with the entire group, on rare lake days that always ended sun drunk and giddy, that one time he’d answered his door right after a quick shower and you’d seen a lot more than you’d bargained for. He was your friend. After a while, it would have been weirder to not have seen Eddie shirtless at least once.
Something about this time feels different.
He has freckles – not nearly as much as Steve or Robin, but they still exist. Small markings across skin glowing warmly in the dim light of your living room lamp, spattered without rhyme or reason. One on the back of his left shoulder, another slightly off-centered at the base of his neck. He has a light scar towards the bottom of his right shoulder blade – a memory from his childhood he told you once when you’d first seen it at the lake. Everyone else was out splashing about the ten-degrees-too-cool water, and he’d joined your side on the shore. Laid on his stomach as you laid on your back, offering you conversation in the form of stories about every blemish across his skin. The intentional tattoos, the unintentional scars. Everything.
Even that day doesn’t quite compare to the intimacy of him being here now, being shirtless in your apartment, just the two of you.
Maybe there was something extra in your coffee this morning, making you feel so delusional.
“I don’t have any lotion or oils,” you finally clear your throat, trying to joke about as the two of you had been before, “But that doesn’t matter. You ready for the best damn massage of your life, Munson?”
“Yes, please,” he groans, and something deep in your stomach clenches at the sound, “Want me to lay down or something?”
Your brain short-circuits for a second, because you know where that leads.
If he lays down, there’s only one way to continue to comfortably give him the massage. If he lays down, you’re about to bite off more than you could chew on a best friend salary.
“Sure,” you choke out, damning yourself in the process.
It’s all robotic mechanics as you two shift to assume the position; you stand up, and he sprawls out. And you swear, in the process, you catch a smothering of pink slow creeping across his chest and neck.
“Can I…” you start to question, finally growing a bit shy as you stare down at the dip of his lower back. Two dimples on either side of his spine, looking so inviting and yet daunting.
He finishes the sentence for you, saving you the embarrassment, “Sit on me? Yeah, go for it, babe.”
There it is again. An unfamiliar nickname that falls so effortlessly off the lips for him. Another pet name to send you into a tailspin as your breath catches and your heart races, as though needing to catch up after the fleeting endearment.
“Thanks,” you whisper out.
You’re starting to regret all your choices, but it’s too late to back down now. You just want to help him relax – that’s all this is.
Stop making this more than it is.
You’re exceptionally careful as you crawl over Eddie, placing a knee on either side of him, hovering for just a second as you take deep breaths to hype yourself up to do the inevitable.
He twists a bit, startling you enough for you to balance yourself with a palm on each shoulder blade, “C’mon now, you’re not going to crush me. You should know this by now,” his eyes glitter, and you know he’s referring to that time you two made a bet he couldn’t carry you bridal style while drunk. He could, “Sit your pretty ass down and get to work, Masseuse.”
You weren’t imagining the pink across his chest and neck. It’s climbed up now, tendrils tickling his cheeks. The bridge of his nose nearly looks sunburnt from this angle.
It’s a good look on him.
“Masseuse?” you snort as you shove him to be fully laying down once more, needing to get his eyes off of you for just a second, “That’s an awfully big word. You been reading without me or something? Becoming a secret genius?”
Fall back into the normal flow of things. Try not to think about the heat of him between your legs as you sit half your weight down.
“That is not a big word,” he chides.
“Spell it, then.”
“I-” he cuts off as your hands smooth back over his skin, no more restrictions.
He never finishes his sentence, never complies with your request. All that falls from his lips are soft sighs as you begin the massage again.
There’s an occasional twitch below his muscles as you knead away, slowly but surely becoming more comfortable with it all. Becoming more mesmerized as you can now see his skin moving with you, occasionally letting up when you skirt past freckles and scars alike, fingertips merely tracing them as he shivers under your delicate touch.
You do exactly as you set out to do – you relax him. And then some.
You’ve never really gotten into the art of massages, something about it always feeling a bit too intimate. You’d never consider yourself a professional at it by any means – if anything, you’ve been on the receiving end rather than the giving end more often than not. And even those occurrences were rare.
But when it came to Eddie, it seemingly came naturally.
Not all of your movements are conventional. You pass back and forth between the usual squeezes of skin you’ve witnessed on TV and from others, and gentle tracing of your fingertips. Drawing shapes, painting pictures that vanish without ever having existed in the first place. Words, sentences, secret messages for just you two.
When you trace out the endearment of idiot, Eddie seems to catch on, lazy grin peeking up past his curtain of hair covering the cheek almost facing you.
In another place, where you make that coveted girlfriend salary, you’d trace out three little words on the tip of your tongue.
You almost do it, too. It’s when you trace out idiot, in fact. You start, entirely subconsciously, with the i. A long pause, a space between words.
And then you trace an l. One long line down the center of his spine.
Your finger is already rotating for the o, ready to trace it in the center as the other two letters had been, a signalling it wasn’t a part of that last simple line.
And then you divert. And you rush to finish out with the i, the o, the t. He laughs a little, the rush of air felt below you as he lets it out soundlessly, and you catch sight of his smile.
A seeming endearment to Eddie, a hidden scolding for yourself.
Maybe one day you can find the nerve to properly trace it out – or better yet, say it. Speak your truth outloud and handle whatever consequences come from it. Because you do – you really, really do mean it – and those feelings for Eddie can’t seem to change. Something carved into your very soul, unchanging as the years pass. If anything, the carving only digs deeper into you with each month you spend with him.
One day. But not today, not when Eddie’s had a bad day. It should be a good day when you say it, lessening the blow of rejection, hopefully.
You almost lose your balance a few times. Each time having to adjust your position of sitting on him, shifting his hips right along with yours. And each time, you notice the catch in his sighs. The way they almost transform into moans, tense noises that seemingly tear from his throat, only dampened by poor attempts to conceal them. Even the back of his neck has grown flushed now, the tips of his ears vibrant when you see them poke through his hair.
Sometimes, you lose your balance from his shifting, even.
The air is sticky with tension as you finally finish up. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour – you weren’t keeping score, more focused on continuing on until Eddie’s entire body has gone boneless beneath you.
Pretty, and pink, and pliant. Entirely slackened beneath your touches.
It takes more to encourage yourself to climb off of him than it did to climb on originally. Your body protests entirely, knees not caring for the ache forming, inner thighs happy to be bracketing his hips. But you do it. Because you’re just a friend, a best friend, helping your friend relax.
You stand, towering over him, looking down to find him hiding his face just a bit. “Well?”
“Well, what?” his voice is entirely muffled by his mouthful of couch cushion, and you furrow your brows.
“How was it?”
He lifts his face strategically. He probably hopes you don’t notice, but you do, “Oh! Oh, it was, uh- It was fucking great, sweetheart. I… I swear, your hands are fucking magic.”
Why is he tripping over his words like that?
He can’t even look you in the eyes, line of sight darting anywhere but you.
Why is he flushed, head to toe?
“Yeah?” you cross your arms, and subtly lean to block the TV now displaying credits that Eddie found terribly interesting, “Would you consider it the best massage you’ve ever had?”
He nods, and you catch the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows before squeaking out, “Oh, yeah! The absolute best I’ve ever had,” his eyes widen at his words, as if he’s made a terrible choice that you’re unaware of, “I mean, you know, I just- you should really consider becoming an actual masseuse.”
That’s when it hits you; Eddie is absolutely refusing to sit up. To remove his hips from your couch.
He’s blushing, and he’s stuttering, and he’s definitely hiding something.
There’s a twist in your gut that you can’t reveal. A satisfaction you know better than to celebrate right now.
Instead, you decide to play with him just a little bit more.
“Good,” you nod, stepping towards the end of the couch you’d originally occupied. Where Eddie’s knees are stiff against. “Maybe I will consider a career change. But for now – move, Munson. I’m just exhausted.”
“What?” he looks at you, frightened, only moving his neck to keep his hips flush and hidden away.
“Get your legs out of my seat,” you laugh a little, leveling him with a daring stare.
You know what he’s hiding. You’re a bit proud of it, too.
“Oh, yeah,” he says slowly, and you can see him going over his options in his head. A million excuses he’s probably conjuring, a hundred different escape plans he’s grasping at. “Yeah, of course.”
And, just as you’d suspected, he doesn’t go with a single one to save his dignity.
He moves quickly. Tucking his legs up and twisting himself into an upright position in the blink of an eye, and immediately grabbing one of your throw pillows that two of you had tossed off into the floor amidst the original movie night plans.
He’s fast, you’ll give him that. But not fast enough for you to not catch sight of the tent in his pants.
You don’t let your eyes linger too long. Swallow down any drooling threatening to begin. Tamper down any desire flaring in your chest and between your hips.
Best friend salary, you remind yourself even as you grin a tad bit too salaciously for your current cover. Best friend salary, not girlfriend salary.
You plop down on the seat still warm from Eddie’s legs, sinking back in self-satisfaction. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it doesn’t have to be another time, or place, or Universe to get what you want. Maybe all your delusion, that wild imagination of yours, wasn’t so misplaced after all.
Best friend salary, your mind whispers. For now.
Eddie makes himself comfortable right along with you, still seeming in a much better condition than when he’d first arrived, even if his cheeks had bloomed into a rose garden. He presses that throw pillow of yours protectively over his crotch, and once more focuses on the screen in front of you two.
“Say, Eddie,” you drawl, almost radiant with your grin. A fire now lit inside both of you. “Think you could be a doll and pop in the next movie for me?”
It’s a little evil, you’ll admit. But he kind of deserves it for underpaying you over the years, when it’s so clear you’re due for a promotion. Sometime soon, you hope.
Both your heads turn to each other at the same time, wildly different speeds. Eddie’s neck snaps in disbelief, while you take your time to make eye contact.
All it takes is one knowing look exchanged, and the illusion fumbles on its stilts.
“I…” his embarrassment, all that flush, slowly morphs as he catches the truth behind your intentions. The hand pressing down on the throw pillow alleviates just a bit, stiff shoulders relaxing as they should have been after your massage as he reflects back just as evil of a glint in his eyes as you had, “Sure thing, baby.”
It’s probably going to be a long night. Surely, the promotion of best friend to girlfriend is going to involve some paperwork. Or an interview, to prove your capability and experience first hand, of course.
But, well, he never did put his shirt back on, did he?
Show Me How
Summary: You’ve been conditioned to only seek perfection your entire life, but your crush on Mina Ashido is anything but perfect. So when she invites you to a party and gets a little too handsy, she has to show you what you’ve been missing.
Characters: Mina Ashido x Female Reader
SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI
TW: Internalized homophobia, doting, grinding, self sabotage, first time, scissoring, hair pulling, denial, eating out, crying, squirting, nipple piercings, mentions of alcohol
Words: 6.1k
You did not like Mina Ashido. Not at all.
At least, that’s what you told yourself as you begged your eyes to look away from her. She was mid squat, barbell resting on her shoulders as she lifted the weight smoothly. The muscles in her legs rippled, contorting under the weight of the bar she was pressing up. And, oh God, her ass. Her shorts were way too short, tight elastic riding up her thighs and leaving little to the imagination, complimenting her curves beautifully. Only when she fully stood up and hooked the bar on the rack did you glance down to the floor, cursing yourself.
You hated weight room days. As you pushed the dumbbells over your head, you forced your eyes to the ceiling, concentrating on controlling your breathing. But when Mina’s obnoxious laugh rang through the gym, your eyes peeled away and landed on her face, sweaty and flushed from lifting well over 150 pounds. Fuck. You forced your eyes back up, making yourself count the tiles to drown out whatever conversation she was having with Jiro. It didn’t work. You finally gave up, setting the dumbbells on the ground beside your bench and flipping your water open, chugging quickly.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like Mina. It was that you weren’t supposed to. You knew you weren’t supposed to. Much like your classmate Todoroki, you were a child born solely for quirk usage, affection a rare thing. From this, your parents expected nothing but perfection. Every grade in junior high was an A or better, every extracurricular activity you participated in was to better your mind or your physical abilities. You even made it into UA on recommendation, skipping the entrance exam completely. Everything you accomplished was nothing short of perfection, but that’s the only way your parents would have it. This stunted your mental health severely. Every mistake was met with severe punishments, giving you no room to grow or flourish on your own. It was either you accepted what your parents planned for you, or you would never make it past a nine-to-five.
And liking a girl was not in their plans.
They wanted you to carry their name, bringing heroic children into the world to continue their legacy. You were to marry a hero on par with yourself or better, but never anything less.
So when you caught your eyes lingering on Mina’s body, or smiling a little wider when she talked to you, or even thinking about her before you went to bed at night. That was a problem. For the first time in your life, you had a problem your parents couldn’t magically make disappear. And it drove you crazy. Now you lived every day of classes begging your eyes not to wander, pleading with your mind not to think of her on top of you, kissing you…
Slamming your water bottle down, you lifted the weights again, thrusting them over your head as you huffed. “[Y/N]?” Shit. You settled the weights on the tops of your thighs, glancing up to see a cute pink face smiling down at you. Mina’s face was darker than usual, but it usually was for a while after she got done working out. Sweat made her coiled hair stick to her forehead, but her bright smile was really what distracted you. “Hi, Mina.” You smiled back, breathing deeply and cursing yourself immediately when you smelled her signature sweet perfume. You were in a losing battle and you knew it.
“Listen. There’s this party that the upperclassmen are throwing to celebrate finals being over, and you’ve gottaaaa go.” She smiled, plopping down on the bench next to you, tapping her feet on the padded ground. “Most everyone from class is going, but I wanted to make sure you knew too.” Her being this close was electrifying. Her white sports bra cupped her tits perfectly, her leaning over to give you the perfect angle to see her cleavage. You quickly glanced between them and her face, begging she didn’t catch your wandering eyes. Your answering nod made her smile, gripping your arm tightly before she stood up. “Okay, okay, I’ll see you tonight.” She giggled, scurrying back across the gym to throw her arm around Jiro and laugh about something unheard. When you finally felt the blush on your cheeks settle, you went back to lifting the weights above your head, drowning out your excitement the best you could.
Before Mina was your crush, she was your friend. And nothing was going to let you ruin that connection you admired so much. No matter how badly you wanted to break the rules your parents set. Before all else, you were a hero. You had to act like it. You breathed deep, straining your muscles as your eyes followed Mina out the door.
-
Tugging the small dress down around your thighs, you sighed in the mirror, contemplating if this dress looked good enough. Several others were sprawled on your dorm floor, a mess piling up that you were too lazy to clean. You had done your makeup earlier, wiping and reapplying in spots you thought didn’t look good enough. Usually, your appearance wasn’t that important. But tonight, Mina would be dressed out in some way too short dress with her makeup done, and for some reason, you suddenly cared a whole lot about how you looked.
The sun was creeping low outside, a thick wash of orange and pink lighting the sky. You had gotten the rest of the info about the party in a short text from Mina explaining where and when it was. It had started about an hour ago, but your procrastination kept you from being timely. Nejire and some of her older friends were hosting the party in their shared dorm building across campus, but their housing was much larger than your classes. It would be fun. Hopefully.
You slid your earrings into your lobes and took one final look at yourself. Your dress and heels matched nicely, and the small handbag you had mainly for carrying your phone and wallet, still looked cute. This was as good as it was going to get. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you left your room, climbed the steps down to the first floor and pressed through the large glass door to the campus outside. It was already getting dark, the sun just barely hanging above the horizon as stars began to speckle the sky. The night breeze was warm, which relieved you from getting goosebumps all over your freshly shaven legs. Before you could psych yourself out, you hurried on the sidewalk towards the large dorm building across the field.
-
You could hear the loud music outside of the building before you ever even opened the doors. Small groups of students littered the yard, keeping to themselves in conversations as they threw back cheap beer and vodka shots. You didn’t know anyone yet, everyone was either an upperclassman or a part of some other support course that didn’t mix with the heroes. As you climbed the steps, pulling the large doors open, the chaos of the party slammed into you.
The common room of the dorm was packed wall to wall with students you didn’t recognize. Third-years made up a big chunk of the crowd from what you could tell. As you stepped inside, more of the atmosphere revealed itself. Groups of students lounged on the communal couches, some in other’s laps or nearly passed out, but most of them were making out. In the kitchen, beer pong games were set up with guys yelling and hollering their excitement. However, most of the party was out in the open part of the floor, dancing and grinding on each other as the loud music thudded through several large speakers. It was wild and loud, with students yelling across the room to their friends or screaming along to the lyrics of whatever song was playing. Flashing colors and lights streamed across the walls and blinded you occasionally. It seemed to be coming from a student’s quirk, their fingers shooting out ribbons of rainbow light in the dark and completing the loud atmosphere. You were immediately overwhelmed, hugging the wall as you slid to the small kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water.
If there was one thing third-years knew how to do, it was throw a party. You scanned the room, trying to recognize any faces in the dark but finding no luck. Nursing your water, you slowly moved back onto the floor. If you knew Mina, she would be in the middle of the crowd dancing. Exactly where you didn’t want to be. Reluctantly, you pressed deeper into the sea of people, nudging your shoulders in between way-too-close people and praying you’d find someone from your class. Finally, over the huddle, you saw a strike of yellow hair and immediately followed it.
Bouncing along with the loud music, Denki, sweaty and red-faced, was pressed up against some second-year you recognized to be from the foreign heroes department. The transfer student had her ass pressed firmly against him, grinding down with the beat of the song. Gross. Grabbing his arm, you peeled his hand from her hip and caught his attention. “Hey! Have you seen Ashido?!” You had to yell over the thudding music to be able to hear yourself, but Denki still couldn’t. “Huh??” He yelled back, pressing his head down closer to your mouth to hear you better. “Ashido! Have you seen her?!” He pulled back with a confused face, shaking his head and pointing to his ear signaling that he still couldn’t hear. Denki repositioned his hand on the girl’s hips, snugging her ass closer against his crotch and sporting a blissed-out smile. You rolled your eyes, moving to press further into the crowd before feeling Denki pull you back. “Wait! Mina was looking for you earlier! She’s up near the speaker booth!” He yelled, returning his focus to the second year as she giggled against him. Sighing heavily, you pressed towards the table at the front of the crowd with speakers blasting, searching for Mina.
You heard her yelling before you saw her. Her cute voice squealed as she and Hagakure jumped together, singing loudly as the music blasted in front of them. When her face came into view, it stopped you in your tracks. Her dark eyes were beautifully contrasted with bright makeup, rainbow colors ombre over her eyelids and making her skin pop. Big hooped earrings, a small chain necklace, and… Fuck… That dress. It was black and sparkled against the colorful lights bouncing off the walls. Hugging her every curve, the tight fabric ended right below her ass and was riding up the more she danced, her tits nearly spilling out the same. You could feel the heat on your face the closer you stepped. Every time she jumped her tits bounced so lewdly. But, God, if she wasn’t beautiful.
When she finally caught you out of the corner of her eye, she smiled brightly, her goofy face stumbling over to you in her thin heels. “[Y/N]!” She yelled, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing her chest against yours. It was all you could do not to look down, forcing yourself to look solely into her eyes and she began to sway with the music again. You glanced behind her, Hagakure finding Jiro and making the shy girl her new dance partner. “I thought you weren’t gonna come!” This close, you could smell the vodka on her breath, her hooded eyes answering on how sober she was. “Sorry! Lost track of time!” Lies, you were just too nervous to actually get here on time. It didn’t seem like Mina cared as she was tugging your body with hers to the beat of the music, flushed cheeks bright under the glow of the lights. Other bodies pressed close around you, giving you little room to move besides pressing closer to the drunk alien.
Suddenly, the song that was playing faded out and a loud rap song you didn’t recognize blasted, sending a few students hollering with excitement. Including Mina, whose eyes blew wide and smile grew wider as she gripped your shoulders tighter. “I love this song!” But before you could respond, she was turning around, pressing her back against your chest and pressing her plump ass against you. Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes shot wide, hands stuck at your sides as Mina began to grind her hips back onto your crotch. You didn’t know what to do. Your body refused to move as you felt your stomach twist and knot with excitement. This was bad, this was really bad. But Mina, being the ever-intuitive, recognized your stiffness and leaned back, resting her head on your shoulder.
“Relaaaax! Dance with me!” She slurred loudly in your ear, reaching her hands back to grip your wrists and place them on her hips. She resumed her swaying hips, reaching up to tangle her hands in your hair as she pressed back rhythmically. You were stunned, hands gripping her hips absently as your face blew hot with embarrassment. The girl who invaded your thoughts constantly was grinding on you. The ass you constantly swore yourself for staring at was pressed against you. It felt like your brain was going to explode. Your breathing was shallow, and suddenly the music was too loud. Every time someone brushed against you it was overwhelming, the bright lights becoming blinding as Mina blissfully danced like she didn’t have a care in the world.
This was wrong. This was all sorts of wrong. Friends weren’t supposed to blush thinking about each other. They weren’t supposed to flirt with each other. And they definitely were not supposed to get aroused when one of them ground on the other.
Your body was betraying your thoughts. You felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your cunt throbbing, sweat building on your brow in the middle of all the body heat. It was becoming too much too fast, and it became impossible to keep up with the rhythm of Mina’s hips. Panic was rising in your body, your breath becoming sporadic and hard to keep your thoughts straight. You had to get out of here before you passed out. Or worse, gave in.
Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you pushed off of Mina, her instantly spinning around to question you. But you were already pushing through the crowd. You caught the stairs that led up to the dorms and quickly climbed them, cursing your heels as they pinched your feet. Your heavy breathing filled your ears, the loud music and lights slowly fading but your panic was still high. Gripping the first door knob you saw at the top of the stairs, you pushed it open, sliding in and slamming the door behind you. You pressed your back against the cold wood, eyes clenched shut and begging your lungs to steady. This was pathetic. If you couldn’t even handle a party how the hell were you going to handle being a pro hero? The tears streamed down your cheeks before you even knew they were there, fists clenching into your dress as you quietly sobbed. The music of the party was muffled, loud base still thumping the walls in rhythm with your pounding heart.
Several minutes passed when you caught your breath, the tears on your cheeks drying up and staining your skin. You felt the knocking on the other side of the door, breath hitching as you pressed off the wood. “[Y/N]?” Shit. Mina knocked again, her sweet voice laced with concern. Maybe if you didn’t respond she’d leave. “[Y/N], open the door.” She pleaded, knocking again. Defeated, you gripped the knob and turned it slowly, staring at the ground as Mina’s face came into view. She immediately stepped in, closing the door behind her and closing off the rest of the party with it. Keeping her distance, she crossed her arms, face twisted with concern. “Are you okay? What happened?” She was still obviously tipsy, but the seriousness in her voice overrode any fear she might be teasing you. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly very self-aware of how stupid you must look with mascara running down your cheeks. But Mina didn’t care, you knew she wouldn’t.
“I don’t know… I panicked, I guess.” You mumbled, rubbing your hands over your arms as you refused to make eye contact with her. She sighed, stepping forward and gripping your wrists to drag you to the bed. Sitting on the edge, she sat close to you, hand rubbing soothingly across your shoulders as she spoke. “Panicked about what, hun?” You shut your eyes, embarrassment gripping you at the nickname. She didn’t use it often, but when she did, it tore you up. Your hands fiddled with each other, your fingernails picking at your calluses and pulling the tight skin. “It’s stupid. I just got worked up.” Mina sighed, sliding her hands to grip yours and stop your fidgeting. She leaned close, making you face her as she smiled. “I promise you, whatever it is, it’s not stupid. Talk to me.”
If this was going to be a battle of determination, Mina had already won. Even before you caught feelings for her, she was always so quick to force the truth out of you when you were upset. It was like her second quirk. She was just that trustworthy. Or manipulative. You weren’t sure which one.
You took a deep breath, her hands gripping yours tightly. “You dancing. It just got me worked up.” You cringed, staring down at your hands interlocked with hers and sighing. She immediately perked up, panic striking her. “Oh my God. I’m so so so so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfor-” Before she could freak out, you gripped her hands tighter, holding them close to your chest and cutting her off. “No! No, I promise it’s not you. It’s like, uh, the opposite, I guess.” You were jumbling your words, trying your best not to make a fool of yourself. “It just, like, got me too excited. I just freaked. You were just so pretty, and, uh- Like I said, it’s stupid.” You closed your eyes, wishing you could just disappear to your bed and never face her again. But she was way too quiet. Peeling your eyes open, you met her shocked expression, her eyes wide and staring you down. You said too much.
You let go of her hands, quickly standing up and apologizing. You went to grab your bag, gripping the door handle, but Mina was quick to stop you. She stood, grabbing your arm and forcing you to face her, her face even with yours. You both stared at each other, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as you refused to move, but never looking anywhere else. She gripped both of your arms tightly at your sides, an anchor against the storm inside begging you to fight her. It was like just by staring into your eyes she could read your every thought. Her dark eyes made your breath shaky, the intensity of her stare making you flustered.
“[Y/N].” She spoke softly but sternly, her glossy lips soft compared to her wild makeup. You closed your eyes, her voice breaking your trance as you shook your head. This couldn’t happen. She gripped your arms tighter, her sharp nails scraping against your skin. “Look at me.” She cooed, rubbing her thumb against your goosebumped arms. You shook your head harder, refusing. You couldn’t let this happen. You knew if you opened your eyes and saw her pretty face, it would be over. But you had worked too hard. You worked hard to get into UA, to get into the top class, and to perfect your quirk. You couldn’t throw away everything your parents had built up for stupid feelings. But as Mina’s fingers brushed up your arms, scratching against your skin, you couldn’t think of a reason why not.
Every day, you struggled to resist her. You avoided staring at her for too long, forcing your eyes down to the ground anytime she was near. You made sure to punish yourself for every lewd thought you had of her, lifting extra weights in the gym to tire yourself out. But the one thing you couldn’t stop, no matter how hard you tried, was hearing her voice. Before you went to bed, when you got really desperate and slid your hands between your thighs, the only thing you could think of was Mina’s soft voice talking you through every move. It was like a curse. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t come to anything else. So you gave up on touching yourself entirely, but that did you worse than it did good. You were always on edge, always irritated at your slightest mistakes. But with her in front of you, voice cooing in that same tone you imagined she would use late at night, the butterflies in your stomach betrayed you.
“[Y/N].” She cooed again, her voice closer this time. Giving in, you slowly opened your eyes. You were met with those big dark eyes, colorful makeup blinding your vision. You were way too hot, face burning as you knitted your brows. You flicked your eyes quickly between her eyes and lips, unsure of what you were supposed to do, but Mina was already guiding you.
Sliding your bag off your arm, she tossed it to the ground and slid her hands to your wrists. Wrapping your arms around her shoulders, she slid her hands down to your waist and rubbed gently, smiling softly. “It’s okay.” She sighed, gripping your waist tightly and forcing your hips to press against hers. But it wasn’t okay… right? Staring down at her glossed lips, you tried to think of some reason you couldn’t. But nothing came. Nothing but her face slowly pressing closer to yours and your thoughts screaming in your head.
Until you felt her soft lips press against yours. And everything just went quiet.
Your eyes slowly fluttered shut, arms gripping tighter around her shoulders to support yourself. It was like you couldn’t control your body anymore. Your lips moved eagerly against hers, tasting the sweet gloss coating them and moaning at the taste. She rubbed your waist tightly, following your lips as they engulfed hers and moved with the rhythm you set. The negative thoughts didn’t come anymore. All you could think about was how good she tasted, how soft her skin was. She got rid of all the bad.
Before you lost your breath, you pulled back, shallowly panting against her chest. Mina only gazed at you, a soft smile radiating against her flushed skin, reassuring you. “I… Uh-” You started but were interrupted with her lips pecking against yours. Pushing you back, your knees hit the edge of the bed and buckled, Mina quick to straddle your legs and wrap her arms around your neck. You immediately went stiff, but her soft strokes across your shoulders eased that familiar tension. “So… were you ever gonna tell me you liked me?” She smiled, littering your cheeks with kisses as she spoke. You rested your hands against her hips, her dress riding up as she spread her legs and gave you a sly view of her lacy thong. Tearing your eyes away, Mina brushed her fingers through your hair, peppering kisses down to your jaw and stopping on your neck. Chills ran down your spine, small whines escaping your lips as she slid your dress strap off your shoulder and began to suck on your skin. “Mina-” You groaned, gripping her hips tighter. Her curly hair brushed against your skin, tickling your chin before she let off of your neck and brought her face back to yours.
“Unzip my dress.” She smiled, wrapping her hands around your wrists and sliding them behind her. Your face flushed dark, stomach twisting with excitement as you searched for the zipper and pulled it down, her straps falling off her shoulders. She hooked her hands under her dress and pulled it over her head, her matching set of lacy purple underwear and bra making your jaw drop. She giggled as you stared, her tits perched right in front of your face and spilling over the cups so beautifully. Mina tossed her dress to the floor, wrapping her hands around your back and unzipping your dress the same, helping you slide it off and tossing it. “So cute…” She giggled, fiddling with the straps of your bra as you gaped at her, face stunned against her body. Up close, her pink skin was so pretty. Dark sunspots littered her shoulders and chest, dark pink freckles complimenting nicely. She was so beautiful.
Mina resumed her place on your neck, kissing and sucking the skin as you groaned. With sudden bravery, you wrapped your hands around her hips and gripped her plump ass in your hands, kneading the flesh softly. She smiled against you as her hands tangled into your hair, tugging lightly the harder you gripped her ass. This was more than you could ever think to dream of. Farther than you ever thought you’d get. If Mina decided right now that she was done, you could die happy knowing you at least got to feel the ass you longed for every day.
Sliding her arms around your back, she fiddled with your bra clasp and snapped it open, sliding your bra off your shoulders. She leaned back, admiring them as she giggled. You blushed deeply, suddenly very aware of yourself as her fingers began to pinch at your nipples. Your breath hitched, hands quick to unclip her bra and slide it off the same. What you didn’t expect were the two tiny silver barbels pierced through each nipple. It made your cunt throb. You gripped her wrists, pulling her wandering hands from your tits and leaning close to hers. You breathed deep, her sweet perfume thick on her chest as you mouthed over her right nipple, sliding your tongue over the cold metal and sucking gently. Her answering moan made your heart flutter. You gripped her other tit, kneading the mound in your hand as Mina gasped, little whines answering for every brush of your tongue. You realized that you really liked that sound.
Tugging your head off her tits, Mina crashed her lips back against yours, pressing your back down against the bed. She trailed kisses down your neck, to your chest, and soon to your abdomen. Goosebumps followed her lips, little gasps and whines answering for every kiss as she got closer to your panty line. Mina glanced up at you, sticking her tongue out and licking a long stripe across your belly button and giggling when your mouth fell open. She enjoyed teasing you as she hooked her fingers under your panties and pulled them down, your face flushing dark as Mina laid face to face with your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat as she pushed your thighs apart, kissing along the insides and stopping right before she reached your folds. She held eye contact with you, reaching her hand under your thigh and intertwining her fingers with yours, gripping reassuringly. “Relax. Just let me make you feel good.” She grinned, dipping her head down and spreading your folds open with her warm fingers. Slamming your head back on the bed, you deep a deep breath and close your eyes, excitement shooting wires all through your body.
When you felt Mina’s warm tongue lick a thick stripe through your folds, you could’ve came right there. You gripped her hand tight, her little squeezes keeping you from freaking out as she continued to press her tongue against your clit. Her fingers kept your lips spread apart, flicking her tongue on your throbbing clit and smiling every time you flinched. “Doing so good, hun.” She hummed, pulling back to rub her thumb over your soaked clit and making you squirm. She dove back down, wrapping her arm around you thigh and digging her nails into your skin, pulling your legs apart. You were soaked, cunt throbbing as Mina pressed her tongue against your entrance and pushed deeper, tongue sinking into you wonderfully. Gasping, you immediately spread your legs further, craving her tongue to press deeper. Her tongue curled against your walls, lapping up your ecstasy and making your arch your back. You slid your hand down, tangling your fingers in her coiled hair and brushing against her jagged horns. When her tongue pulled out of your cunt and her lips began to suck on your clit, your fist quickly wrapped around her horn and pulled her head closer, a loud moan following. Sliding her hand to your cunt, Mina ran her fingers through your wetness and pressed against your entrance, curling her fingers up immediately and sending you writhing. She pumped shallowly, warms fingers curling tightly against your walls in time with her lips against your clit. Your back was arched fully off the bed, fist gripping her horn tightly and fingers wrapped around hers assuringly. With the intensity of it all, Mina was also gentle, constantly looking up to gauge your reactions and holding your hand to keep you stable.
“I’m go- oh my god- Mina-” You gasped, teeth gritted and eyes shut tight as her fingers coiled against your walls, her fingers pulling you closer to your orgasm. Besides on your own fingers, you had never came to anything else. Orgasms were just a way to relieve your stress, helping you stay more focused and keep your mind of off useless horny things. But now, falling apart on Mina’s fingers, it felt different. There was this tension building up in your core, your cunt throbbing with every curl of her fingers and your breathing getting uncoordinated. But it felt so good. “Mina- Please-” You writhed against her, knees trying to press together. With one last deep curl of her fingers and her tongue flicking against your clit, your stomach tightened and your walls clenched down hard. Warm liquid squirted from your cunt, soaking Mina’s lips as she lapped up the odd feeling cum. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as you moaned loudly, fist gripping down tightly on Mina’s horn as she rubbed you through your orgasm. When she popped off your clit, her mouth was covered in your ecstasy, her blissed out expression lovely as she licked her lips clean.
But before you could catch your breath, she was already sitting up and pulling down her panties, her own arousal evident from the stain between her legs. She kicked her heels off, pulling yours off as well and tossing them down before she pressed your legs back. She sat up, throwing a leg over yours and slotting herself down against your throbbing cunt, clits pressed firmly against each other. You whined, still sensitive from her tongue as she began to grind her hips down, her folds slotting against yours and quickly scissoring you. You had only ever seen this position in the porn videos you convinced yourself to watch, but experiencing it was far better than you could’ve imagined. Mina’s hips grinded down hard, clits nudging against each other and making you both moan loudly. She slotted her hand under your knee, holding you leg for support as she jerked against you, chasing her own ecstasy.
Mina’s eyes were rolling, her soft lips hanging open as she arched her hips rhythmically. She was so gorgeous, her makeup slightly ruined and smudged across her eyes from her flustered state. She skin was glistening with sweat, her moans singing loudly with yours the faster she thrusted. You could already feel your orgasm coming, her clit rubbing yours and making you gasp loudly. Mina was close too, her moans becoming more high pitched the longer she went. You slid your hand up, cupping her tit in your hand and tugging at her nipple, playing with the barbell. She whined, biting her lip hard. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Just like that hun, shit.” She moaned, her nails gripping your leg tightly as you pinched her nipple in between your fingers. “Feels sooo good. Gonna come on your pussy. Gonna fuck you so good, hun.” She babbled, voice high and whiny as she ground shallow and fast against your cunt, clits throbbing and twitching.
Your stomach tightened as you pulled her nipple, your cunt swollen and on the verge of orgasm as you stared into Mina’s flushed face. “Come for me. Come on-” You groaned, bucking your hips up and rubbing in time with her. That was all it took to make Mina’s eyes roll, her nails digging into your skin and her voice crying loudly as she came against you. You felt yourself coming apart as well, your hips stuttering as your warmth mixed with hers, moans echoing. Your legs clenched against each other, Mina flopping down on top of you and breathing quickly against your chest. You held her close, laying her beside you as you both came down from your intense highs, a fucked out smile on your face.
Mina’s eyes fluttered, her forehead pressed against yours as she caught her breath, breathing deep before opening her eyes to yours. “Oh my God, [Y/N].” She smiled, wrapping her hand around your head and tangling her fingers in your hair once again. You both giggled, naked bodies flushed red and pressed close together while you just admired the other. Both of your makeup was ruined, hair messy, and brows sweaty by the time you settled down. “I’m glad you like me too…” Mina smiled shyly, pressing her lips against you cheek. You stared at her, in awe of just how beautiful she was. “Oh, you have no idea just how long I’ve dreamed of even getting to kiss you.” You laughed, hands wrapping around her waist and rubbing against her hips gently. Just laying there, breathing in each other’s scent, you finally felt content. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you had made a decision that you wanted, not what your parents wanted. You were so afraid before, so afraid of messing up or disappointing them. But as Mina’s eyes fluttered shut against the muffled beat of the music downstairs, you knew you wouldn’t give her up no matter how many insults they threw your way. If loving her was wrong, fuck being right.
-
Days had passed since the party. You shuffled through the halls of UA in your uniform, heading towards the cafeteria for lunch, your stomach growling as you hauled your backpack over your shoulders. When you felt warm hands slip around your shoulders, you smiled widely, raching to interlock the fingers with yours as you continued to walk. Mina wrapped her arms around yours, pressing herself close as you smiled to eachother, discussing classes and what you hoped they had to eat.
Since that night, Mina hadn’t left your side, her fingers always interlocked with yours and letting everyone know just how happy she was because of it. She was helping you break down your walls your parents had so carelessly built up, poking at the deepest parts of you and releasing emotions you never knew you needed to. Her bubbly personality matched your calmness perfectly, and anyone could see just how happy you made eachother.
When you felt another arm wrap around you shoulder, you turned, startled as Neijire nestled herself between the two of you. “So. Who’s going to buy me new sheets? Heard yall had a little fun in my room.” She smiled teasingly, pulling you both close as you continued to walk. You eyes shot wide, cheeks flushing deep as Mina’s stunned expression met yours. She slapped her hand over her mouth, holding back her laugh as you cringed to Neijire, shrugging your shoulders coyly. Mina threw her head back, laughing loudly through the halls and catching attention from other students. Neijire burst out laughing as well, hugging you both close as the two girls laughed each other to tears. As you sighed, you glanced to Mina, her bright smile radiating against her pink skin, her cheeks rosy with giddiness.
God, you didn’t deserve her. But you damn sure would never be ashamed of her again.
This was an anonymous request!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated!
having eddie to lay in between your bare thighs with nothing on him, just a pair of batman boxers while he plays a video game letting u play with his hair and massage his head then he gets all whiny and grouchy when you stop while he lifts his leg only to drop it back down in a childish way, so he pauses the game and blindly reaching back to find your hand before plopping it back on top of his head
This is the worst timeline. (x)
summary: Billy Hargrove needs a Queen and you need someone to help you get out of the hellhole that you are currently in as you move to Hawkins. It should be an easy and obvious solution, right?
Not, not even close. Because it doesn't matter if Billy keeps dreaming about you or that you think that if the sun and the sea had a love child it would look like Billy, you really hate each other's guts -at least, that's what you keep telling yourselves- until you are caught in a not so great position. literally. Lots of insults flying around, lots of lying to yourself, lots of fighting before ending up against a wall your lip inches away from his because that's what enemies do, right?
billy hargrove masterlist
prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six(scheduled a weeks from now- read early on my ko-fii!!!)
updates on monday (hopefully)
extras:
18 playlist
moodboard
***
feedback is always welcomed
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also maybe soon available on wattpad?
i knew what i was going to see, but i still gasped when i saw it.
i do not pity israel. never have, and never will.
each night that gaza experiences is deadlier than the last, as idf soldiers record propaganda tiktoks, make rave parties and grwms and fit checks, gloat over having food and water, and film themselves deriving sadistic pleasure from torturing their hostages and victims and desecrating the dead.
Palestinians have to display their martyred before the camera for you to believe the atrocities that the zionist entity has subjected them to. they cannot even mourn in private. the apartheid entity murders them in cold blood, and you deliver the killing blow by doubting them.
babies whose families have been killed will never get to know their own name.
i can't reshare a tenth of the videos and photos that cross my timeline. i have seen more dead children in the past month than i have known death my entire life.
israeli settlers burn olive trees, bomb bakeries and fishing boats, shower white phosphorus and earthquake bombs on the captive civilians of gaza. you already know about the disastrous effects of white phosphorus, but earthquake bombs were last used during ww2 to wipe out entire cities.
how holy is the land that seeks to be built over the mass graves of thousands of children? is it holier than the miracle of a child being born in this hypocritical world?
all 11 universities in gaza have been bombed. academics should be agitating right now, especially those who call themselves "decolonial thinkers." destruction of universities is a sinisterly deliberate act to sabotage the Palestinians who will survive this great catastrophe.
the act of cleansing your hands before prayer is extremely important to muslims. no part of us can remotely comprehend the grief of the mother who refused to wash her hands from the blood of her children after losing them in a zionist airstrike over gaza. "I swear I won't wash them, I won't wash my hands, how else am I supposed to sleep near my kids."
it is only both moral and right when one side defends itself. the other side are the price of war, no better than insects and cattle and sheep left to die within the four walls of the slaughterhouse.
this situation should not be up for debate, but let me finish with one final thing : do your research about Palestine. HOWEVER. you do not need a degree in middle east studies to object to an ongoing genocide. if someone outwits you in a debate about historical details and every nuance of a subject, you were and will remain entirely correct in objecting to a genocide.
may those martyred rest in peace and be reunited again with their loved ones in heaven's eternal vastness.
DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE.
glory to Palestinian resistance. from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.
That's so cute ???
one of the things you'd never understand was how goddamn silent bakugou katsuki could be.
he was huge, for one thing, all six-foot-something of iron muscle and sharp angles. the training he had undergone in the past and continued doing to this day made him bulk up—particularly around his upper torso. a small waist led up to thick pecs and wide shoulders with just as wide biceps. he could crush you so easily with one hand alone, his palm big enough to cover nearly your entire face.
he was also so fucking loud at times. that was his entire hero persona—dynamight with the loud explosions that could temporarily deafen anyone who was close enough to them. his entire hero costume was a deadly configuration of grenades and other heavy gear too—things that cluttered and banged together whenever he moved around too much.
you'd seen him stomping around his agency before in his heavyset boots, so you knew he was the type to be big and bold with literally anything he did. he was always barking out orders with that raspy voice of his or yelling at his co-workers whenever they appeared at his agency to bug him for one reason or the other.
katsuki's very presence, personality, was just so. loud. thunderous.
so you didn't fucking understand why he kept sneaking up on you so easily.
it happened more often than you liked to admit. you'd be in the agency's breakroom, grabbing a cup of coffee to help you stay awake for the day when you'd turn around and he'd just—be there. standing silently behind you.
it made you jump every time, a yelp escaping your lips as you'd clutch a hand at your heart and glare up at him as he'd look down at you with a raised eyebrow.
"jeez! don't do that!" you'd scold him, scooting away slightly to put more space between the two of you. that was another thing—he just always seemed to be invading your personal space, intentional or not. "scared the hell out of me."
"'s not my fault y'don't pay attention," he'd grumble before reaching past you to grab one of the protein bars from a cabinet. you'd roll your eyes and walk away with your coffee cradled in your hand, not wanting to put up with him so early in the morning.
sometimes he'd get you while you were tinkering away in his agency's support lab.
in your defense, you tended to get absorbed in your work a lot, your hands fiddling with materials and tools that could be pretty loud or distracting. you didn't always hear when people would enter the lab, but they usually left you alone.
not katsuki, though.
you'd turn around with the intention of reaching for an item on the table behind you only to get startled when your face would come into contact with a broad chest.
fuck him and his steely pecs. nearly broke your goddamn nose.
"bakugou!" you'd screech, jumping back as you'd rub your nose with your eyes scrunched together. you had to force yourself to not tear up with how much it'd stung. "stop doing that!!"
"doin' what?" he'd say as though he wasn't fucking creeping up on you on purpose. and maybe he wasn't, but the amount of times he'd done it was no coincidence. "need my bracers. goin' out on patrol."
"fine, fine," you'd mutter, giving him a suspicious look before you'd stomp away to grab his stuff for him. you didn't like the way he stared at you, with his eyebrows raised as though you were the one acting crazy and not him for silently standing behind you.
but you knew, you fucking knew, that he was experiencing some sick, twisted amusement at seeing your reactions. you just knew. there were a few times where you'd catch him with a smug smirk on his smooth face as you'd leap away from him. the bastard thought it was funny seeing you all jumpy. and it irritated you more than you'd like to admit. but he'd just pretend he wasn't doing it deliberately. asshole.
at one point, you'd considered doing the same to him. but you'd brushed the idea away pretty quickly. his hero senses were honed—he'd be able to tell you were coming from a mile away. and even if you did manage to sneak up on him, you knew he was a pretty tense guy—he'd blow your face up before you could even raise your own brow at him.
so you just decided to do your best to ignore him. which was hard, considering the fact that he was practically everywhere. it made sense, considering it was his own agency, but still. you'd walk into a room sometimes, and he'd just be there. or you'd turn around and he'd be behind you again. it was frustrating!
but what you didn't know... was that katsuki had been trying to work up the courage to ask you to dinner all this time.
for all the villains he fought and strength he had, he just couldn't muster up the words. he'd make it all the way up to you, standing behind you as he tried to get himself to clear his throat and just fucking say the words he needed to say. but he couldn't. and you'd turn around, get startled, then get irritated at him that he just couldn't ask you out.
so for now, he was simply stuck in this endless cycle, hoping that one day, he'd be able to break out of it.
pfp i did for myself + my wife my everything my world louis ives
"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."
Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]
"do you hate me ?" "No" he said. "why ?" he soflty smiled and responded "why would I ?" "you're lying" and that was it.
With these last words, i decided to break up with him. Why ? I don't even fucking know but god how i fucking hate myself for it. But he was gonna leave me one day, i juste... Kind of made it happen quicker. Yeah, i'm an asshole. But i'm the one crying right now, he's probably living his best life, now. Without me. I always thought i was the kind of people who preferred to be alone, or at least, i always forced myself to believe that.
I'm not really... Pretty. In fact, i have nothing for myself. I'm quite stupid and not funny. But hey, that's alright. If someone like him could have loved me, I may not be as dumb as I thought I was. Well, if he really loved me in the first place.
I do not have friends, i do not go out like others peoples do. I'm just... Here. Staying all alone by myself. But that's okay, i'm not feeling anything anymore. So hey, i'm cool. Well, i think i'd be if i could.
Tomorrow, i'll have to go in class. I'll see him. I just know it. Since our breakup, i did not went back to school. It's been two months now. Aha, i'm so fucking dumb, so so so fucking pitiful. I'll probably won't even graduate this year. But that's alright, I've already disappointed my parents, they won't be surprised.
Despite the fact that I left him, i think that if i see him with somebody else, my body will not support it. I'll probably die right away before his eyes. But that's alright, he won't have to deal with me anymore in the future.
I miss him, really really much.