Gonna Make You Wonder Why You Even Try. (hard Times Series)

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!

Edward: I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you

You: I just opened the door for you??

Edward: happy 2 minute anniversary

eddie sprawled out on your bedroom floor explaining in full detail of his role playing character that was supposed to be just for sexy fun time

you sit on your bed half naked with one eyebrow raised at the man still talking about how his characters mom died

[JDVN] Random Headcanons

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so i'm back and i swear i'm working on all the stuff in my inbox, but i also discovered the john doe visual novel recently and like i love him so much??? i must write for him also cause there seems to be so little written for him

warnings: doe being weird but loveable as usual, scalp gnawing???

okay so obviously this little eldritch creature thing is clingy as fuck all the time, absolutely takes being your partner as a sign that he must be at your side 25 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. i think this is expected to anyone wanting to be with doe. however, allow me to take it a step further:

mad seperation anxiety, will stand whining and clawing at the door while you piss so that he can grab onto you the second he hears the lock open

i fully think doe's music taste will give a person whiplash, he has like pitbull, weezer, crazy frog, and rammstein all in the same playlist

he rarely makes any sort of meals but when he does, they are weird. it'll either be the most vile, vomit-inducing, stomach clenching, nose covering pulsating mass of unknown substances amalgamated together like some unholy sacrifice to a god that shouldn't exist, but it'll taste absolutely heavenly. or it'll be the most beautiful, delicious looking meal that would have gordon ramsay himself falling flat on his knees and hailing it, and it'll taste like literal fucking sewer excretions. how he does it?? nobody knows

will do anything to make you happy. when i say anything i mean anything. ANYTHING.

keep this guy well away from memes, tiktok, any sort of internet humor. if he learns, you will never know peace again

on top of being afraid of water, i also think doe is afraid of vacuum cleaners, spray bottles, and occasionally when you sneeze, just like a cat. when he does, his hair stands on end and he leaps away from the offending object/noise, hissing loudly. if you scare him particularly suddenly, he'll make a very instinctive scramble to the top of the fridge (likely knocking many things over in the process, he's 5ft8 after all) and it may take a small while for him to come back down

particularly loves receiving forehead and nose kisses. they make him feel very comforted and cared for by you, in a way nobody else ever made him feel

if you ever want to pavlov him into a specific behaviour (eg, cleaning up after himself when he's at your apartment), it is very much possible and he will be particularly responsive to sour gummy worms as a treat

speaking of your apartment, he takes it as an absolute milestone in your relationship if you allow him to have some of his stuff stay in your apartment permanently, eg some clothes, his favourite blanket, his 'special occasion cutlery' (its a set of hello kitty plastic childrens cutlery, the print has halfway faded and the white parts have yellowed but you've never seen anyone look so vulnerable when they offered a plastic knife and fork to you, so now it stays in your cutlery drawer and doe grins and giggles happily everytime he sees it in there)

you may catch him trying to chew on your hair sometimes, while its still attached to you. unless you don't have hair, in which case he will simply gnaw on your scalp out of the blue. its a love language

okay that's all for now, hope you enjoyed, and if you guys wanna see some nsfw headcanons of doe i can absolutely arrange that <3

rereading my own fic and every single line is hitting because i wrote it specifically to cater to my extremely particular interests

i dont think anything compares to the joy of getting asks on tumblr or getting comments on ao3

its like, wow. human communication thru the internet. except it feels personal. but yknow, in a nice way, not in an invasive way

its like, you CLICKED on MY account and read thru MY posts and cared enough to leave me a personal message. smth so cute abt that

the intp urge to add 'for science' at the end of any emotionally driven desire

Moon but he's your sleep paralysis demon lmao.

Was thinking about the roommate situation said to occur in late Solar Lunacy, and I feel like Moon would be a super creepy sight to wake up to.

(Solar Lunacy by @bamsara)

I'm speechless, the talent is immaculate

love in the margins | t. iida

a short, slow-burn library romance, ft. one blueberry muffin, exactly zero jokes, and a boy who takes flashcards way too seriously. (4597 words)

you meet tenya iida under circumstances that can only be described as tragically collegiate: a peer-led study group in the furthest, quietest corner of the campus library, surrounded by half-dead fluorescent bulbs and the palpable despair of students on the brink of burnout.

it's the third week of the semester, and you're already floundering.

you hadn't intended to be. in theory, you were going to stay on top of things—read the chapters early, color-code your notes, maybe even start a study group of your own. but somewhere between sleep deprivation, an avalanche of discussion posts, and the mysterious black hole that is the university's online portal, you fell behind. hard.

introduction to public policy has been your academic nemesis from the start. the textbook reads like legal jargon swallowed a thesaurus. the professor talks in dense, circular metaphors. every quiz is a minefield of trick questions and ambiguous phrasing. you are, in every sense of the word, academically drowning.

so when a brightly colored flyer promising a "collaborative review session" caught your eye on the bulletin board outside the lecture hall, you didn't think twice. you showed up. desperate. caffeinated. terminally underprepared.

and now you regret everything.

the room smells like dry-erase markers and nervous sweat. a whiteboard at the front is covered in illegible graphs. someone has already spilled a latte on the floor. the guy leading the group talks fast and loud, his explanations full of buzzwords and gestures but lacking anything remotely useful. you suspect he's just regurgitating the study guide at a slightly faster pace.

the other students seem to agree.

one by one, they start to trickle out. a girl leaves with the excuse of "office hours." a guy mutters something about dinner. another just quietly packs up and disappears, not even bothering with a pretense.

by the end of the hour, only two people remain: you, clinging to a futile hope of salvaging your gpa... and him.

he sits across from you with the kind of posture that makes your back ache just looking at him. tall, composed, and absurdly polished—like someone who writes essays three days early and carries a spare pen in case someone forgets theirs. his navy-blue sweater is wrinkle-free. his glasses catch the dim library light. his notes are not just color-coded—they're thematically organized, annotated with footnotes and marginalia in tiny, immaculate handwriting.

he hasn't spoken once. he hasn't needed to.

he radiates competence like it's a moral obligation.

"you're still here?" you ask, more surprise than judgment.

the boy looks up, blinking as if surfacing from a well of deep concentration. he adjusts his glasses with a practiced motion.

"yes," he says, voice clipped and oddly formal. "you are as well."

you arch an eyebrow. "no offense, but... are you actually getting something out of this?"

his expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head slightly—almost like he's assessing you.

"of course," he replies. "engaging in structured group review enhances cognitive retention and contextual understanding. it's an effective method for consolidating knowledge prior to a high-stakes assessment."

you blink. "so... yes?"

he doesn't hesitate. "yes."

you snort—audibly. it escapes before you can stop it. and to your surprise, a faint smile flickers across his mouth.

"i'm tenya iida," he says, extending a hand across the table with the kind of precision reserved for formal introductions at university mixers.

you stare at his hand for a moment, then take it. his grip is warm. steady. confident in a way that makes you sit up a little straighter.

"y/n," you say.

his smile grows just slightly. "it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

he releases your hand and immediately pulls out a second set of flashcards from his folder. of course he has a second set.

"would you like to quiz each other?" he asks, dead serious. "alternating questions could be a mutually beneficial method of review."

you stare at him.

he stares back.

something about him—the earnestness, the posture, the complete and utter lack of sarcasm—disarms you. it's like he's the living embodiment of academic sincerity. you're not sure whether to laugh or agree.

you do both.

"...sure."

you don't know it yet, but that's the beginning.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't plan on seeing him again.

it's not personal. it's just that study groups are the social equivalent of jury duty—temporary, miserable, and best forgotten. you assume tenya iida is one of those hyper-dedicated overachievers who only exist within the academic ecosystem. he probably recedes into a cloud of flashcards and moral fiber as soon as the library closes.

you are, however, proven categorically wrong the following wednesday at exactly 8:03 a.m.

you enter the campus café half-awake, mildly hostile, and fully dependent on the idea of caffeine as a substitute for sleep. the plan is simple: grab something with enough espresso to make your eye twitch, stare blankly at your phone for fifteen minutes, and pretend the crushing weight of institutional learning isn't slowly hollowing you out from the inside.

but fate—or perhaps syllabus-based divine intervention—has other plans.

because when you step inside, there he is.

same posture. same glasses. same stupidly crisp button-down like it didn't just come out of someone's laundry but graduated magna cum laude from it. he's seated at a table by the window, surrounded by highlighters arranged like soldiers, reading the textbook that has been your personal tormentor since week one.

and next to his coffee?

a single blueberry muffin.

you hesitate, caught in that weird space where it's too late to pretend you didn't see him, but also too awkward to walk past without acknowledging him.

before you can make a decision, he looks up—and smiles.

not just a polite, "ah yes, i recognize you" smile.

a real smile. brief, but sincere. like he's actually glad you're here.

he waves you over.

you hate how quickly your legs respond.

"didn't expect to see you here," you say as you slide into the seat across from him, instantly aware of how tired you look in comparison to his perfectly combed hair and terrifying punctuality.

"i study here most mornings," he replies. "the ambient noise level is consistent, and the natural lighting is optimal for focus."

you blink. "that is... alarmingly specific."

he inclines his head. "i find that consistency breeds productivity."

you want to tease him, but the truth is, it's kind of admirable. alarming. but admirable.

he gestures to the pastry between you.

"would you like half?" he asks. "it's fresh. and i believe we have, at this point, established a cordial enough rapport to justify the sharing of breakfast items."

you stare at him.

"do you always offer muffins to people you've only studied with once?"

he doesn't even flinch. "only when they look tired enough to deserve one."

your mouth twitches.

"you've been saving that line, haven't you."

he looks mildly offended. "no. though i could annotate it in my planner if you'd like."

you laugh—genuinely this time—and accept the muffin. it's warm, sweet, and annoyingly perfect. just like him.

you don't pull out your flashcards. not immediately. you sit there in companionable silence, splitting the muffin and sipping your drinks like it's something you've always done. like this is normal.

you tell yourself this isn't a date. obviously.

it's too early in the day for romance. you're both clutching textbooks like weapons. he hasn't even made a single joke. (you're not sure he knows how.)

and yet—

when he leans in to show you a section he highlighted—carefully annotated with footnotes and marginal notes that are somehow neater than your typed essays—your shoulders brush. you don't pull away.

he doesn't, either.

later, you realize that you don't even remember what chapter you reviewed.

but you remember the sound of his voice as he quietly explained it. the way he passed you the last bite of muffin without saying anything. the way his fingers curled ever so slightly when he set his pen down between you.

you remember thinking, with a strange flutter in your chest: this could be something.

not yet.

but maybe.

⋆˚✿˖°

you tell yourself this is still just about school.

you repeat it like a mantra as you meet him at the library every tuesday and thursday without fail, settling into your now-permanent seats by the windows like assigned partners in some ongoing group project that no one else remembers being assigned to. his bag always lands on the table first, followed by a reusable water bottle the size of your emotional baggage. he brings extra highlighters now—plural—and starts leaving a green one near your elbow like he’s not even thinking about it.

you, in turn, stop pretending to study anywhere else.

because the truth is, you don’t concentrate better when he’s around—not even a little. he’s distracting in the worst possible way: tall and tidy and terminally composed, with a voice like a podcast host and a smile that you pretend not to notice every time he glances over at you with something like pride in his eyes.

and the worst part?

it’s working.

your grades are going up. you understand policy terminology now. you caught yourself referencing a case study unprompted in another class, and the look your professor gave you made it feel like you’d just been knighted.

you’d thank him for it—sincerely—if he didn’t look so smug every time you nailed a quiz.

“you’ve clearly been applying yourself,” he says one evening, looking over your annotated notes like they’re some kind of sacred text.

“i’ve been applying your study methods,” you reply, then instantly regret it, because the smile he gives you in return is devastating.

and that would be fine—annoying, but fine—if it weren’t for the fact that he’s started sitting closer.

not drastically. not inappropriately. just... close.

close enough that when you both lean in to look at something on the same page, your shoulders brush. your knees knock. his hand lingers near yours when he passes you a pen, and he doesn’t move away quickly. sometimes—and this is particularly evil—his thigh rests against yours under the table for minutes at a time, and you’re too proud (and too panicked) to say anything.

you’re not flirting. not really.

you’re both too stubborn for that.

but something is happening. you just don’t know what to call it.

one thursday afternoon, the sky is gray and heavy with the threat of rain. the windows in the library fog up slightly, making the whole room feel smaller, softer, somehow more intimate. your shoes are damp. your brain is fried. you’re barely holding onto your focus.

but he’s already there, sitting at your usual table with a mug from the downstairs café and a folder labeled “legislation review: week 5.” there’s a muffin. of course there’s a muffin.

he looks up as you approach. smiles. “you’re early.”

you blink. “so are you.”

he shrugs. “anticipation is efficient.”

“what does that even mean?”

he hesitates, like he’s genuinely considering it. “it means i enjoy this.”

your heart does something stupid.

you take your seat before your face can give you away.

thirty minutes in, your brain stops processing information entirely.

you’re trying to focus. really, you are. but his leg is pressed against yours and you swear it’s getting closer every time he shifts. it’s not even the contact itself that’s distracting—it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice. like it’s just normal. like this is how he always studies with people.

(does he?)

(no. he can’t.)

“y/n?” he says, and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“hm?”

“i asked if you’d like to walk through the case brief again. you seem... distant.”

you clear your throat and try not to sound like someone whose brain has just been wiped by a thigh. “yeah, no, i’m fine. just tired.”

he nods solemnly. “understandable. your coursework has been particularly intensive.”

he says it like he knows your schedule better than you do—which he might. you’ve seen his planner. you’re pretty sure he’s memorized the entire academic calendar, national holidays included.

you try to return to your notes.

you fail.

eventually, you lean back in your chair and exhale.

“okay,” you say. “i need to ask you something.”

he looks up, immediately attentive. “yes?”

you glance around—no one’s within earshot— and lean in slightly.

“this thing we do.”

he blinks. “studying?”

“no. i mean yes, but no.” you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “this. the muffins. the flashcards. the... sitting so close i can smell your laundry detergent.”

he goes still.

“i’m just trying to understand if we’re, like...” you hesitate. “is this just a really intense academic friendship or are we... flirting?”

he doesn’t speak for a long moment.

then, carefully: “i hadn’t realized my proximity was making you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not!” you say, too quickly. “it’s just... confusing.”

“confusing how?”

you fidget with the cap of your pen. “because we do things that feel... date-adjacent. and i don’t know if that’s just how you are with people or if i’m—” you stop yourself before you can say not imagining it.

his brows draw together, faintly perplexed. “i apologize. i didn’t mean to cause confusion.”

you blink. “so you are flirting?”

his ears go pink. just slightly. “i wouldn’t define it as flirting. but i do enjoy spending time with you.”

you squint at him. “that’s not a no.”

he hesitates. then, quieter: “it’s not.”

oh.

you stare at him. he stares back.

and then—like the universe can’t stand unresolved tension—your knees bump again.

but this time, he doesn’t shift away.

and neither do you.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don’t call it a date.

not out loud.

not even in your head, really—not technically. because you’re not dating. you haven’t kissed. there’s been no confession. there’s been no moment of clarity where either of you has stood dramatically in the rain and said i think about you all the time, which, honestly, is a bit disappointing.

but you still change your outfit three times before meeting him for coffee on saturday.

you still hesitate in front of the mirror, adjusting your sleeves and second-guessing your hair, muttering get a grip under your breath like it’s a prayer.

you still pause at the door to the café, one hand on the handle, and remind yourself—again—that this isn’t a date.

you’re just meeting up. casually. like friends.

friends who sometimes sit with their knees touching under library tables. friends who share muffins and steal glances and somehow always find reasons to linger a little too long in doorways.

friends who, if they weren’t so emotionally constipated, might’ve figured this out already.

but you push the door open anyway, and the little bell overhead chimes bright and familiar.

he’s already there.

of course he is.

tenya iida is punctual to the point of pathology. if you told him to meet you in the afterlife at 3:00 p.m. sharp, he’d be there early, holding a clipboard and a fully prepared powerpoint.

he’s sitting near the window, back straight, hands folded politely in his lap. his hair is a little messy from the wind outside. his sweater is navy—clean, simple, a little oversized in a way that makes you stare longer than you should.

he sees you and stands immediately, which is both adorable and completely unnecessary.

“you’re early,” he says, voice warm.

“so are you.”

he doesn’t reply, but the smile he gives you is soft around the edges.

you order something with too much caffeine and not enough nutritional value. he offers to pay, like he always does. you decline, like you always do. it’s a silent tradition now, a ritual of stubbornness. he lets it go with a quiet nod, but not without giving you that look—the one that says i was raised right and this physically pains me.

you find a booth in the corner, a little more secluded than the rest. the sun spills in through the window in soft golden streaks, and for a moment, it feels like you’re somewhere outside of time.

“i’ve never seen you wear that color,” he says as you sit down.

you glance at your shirt. “yeah? too much?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no. it suits you.”

your mouth goes a little dry.

you recover quickly, leaning back and sipping your drink like it doesn’t mean anything. like the warmth crawling up your neck is from the coffee and not the compliment.

“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “what’s on the agenda for today? rigorous academic analysis? philosophical debates about economic ethics? impromptu pop quizzes?”

he tilts his head. “i thought we might take the day off.”

you blink. “from... studying?”

“from everything.” he shrugs, a little sheepishly. “i realized we’ve never spent time together without a textbook between us.”

your heart does something strange.

“you mean like... just hang out?”

“yes.”

“like friends.”

he hesitates. just barely. “yes. like friends.”

the words hang in the air between you—awkward, uncertain, but not unkind.

you nod, slowly. “okay. yeah. we can do that.”

and you do.

you talk. not about school, not about deadlines or group projects or the upcoming midterm. you talk about dumb childhood stories and weird food preferences and the fact that he once tried to start a recycling initiative in his middle school and was very upset when no one followed the sorting chart correctly.

you tell him about your obsession with terrible reality TV. he listens with the seriousness of a man taking notes for a thesis.

he tells you about his older brother, and how much he looks up to him. you tell him about the stray cat that used to follow you home in high school, even though you never fed it.

he laughs—really laughs—when you tell him about the time you broke your nose in gym class trying to dodge a volleyball and ran straight into a bleacher.

“i’m sorry,” he says between gasps. “i don’t mean to laugh at your pain.”

“no, you do,” you say, grinning. “and it’s okay. i would too.”

at one point, your knees bump under the table again. this time, neither of you pulls away.

it’s later than you mean it to be when you finally leave the café. the sun is dipping low, the sky tinged with lavender and orange. the street is quiet, and the wind bites just enough to make you zip your jacket up.

you walk together. not toward the library, not toward another class—just aimlessly. like people who have nowhere else to be.

it’s peaceful.

and weirdly... intimate.

you’re not talking. not really. the silence between you is comfortable now, lived-in. every so often your hands brush, and you wonder—wildly, stupidly —what would happen if you just reached out.

but you don’t.

because this isn’t a date.

it’s not.

except maybe... it is.

“this was nice,” you say, when you finally reach the crosswalk where you’ll part ways.

he nods. “i enjoyed it.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“we should do it again,” you say. casually. like it doesn’t mean anything.

but he looks at you like it does.

“i’d like that,” he says. and then—“you’re very easy to be around.”

your breath catches.

you want to say something. you’re easy to be around too. i think about you when we’re not together. i don’t know if i’m imagining this but i hope i’m not.

instead, you say, “you’re weirdly charming, you know that?”

he blinks. “i—thank you?”

you grin. “it’s a compliment. mostly.”

he laughs. soft. pleased. “i’ll take it.”

he takes a small step back, like he’s about to leave —but then pauses.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“if this had been a date...” he clears his throat. “would that have been... agreeable to you?”

you stare at him.

then, slowly—carefully—you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “i think it would’ve been.”

he smiles. it’s small. tentative. but it lights up his whole face.

“then maybe next time, we won’t pretend.”

you feel like you’re floating.

“deal.”

he nods once. then, with a strange, lingering sort of hesitation—like he’s not ready to go yet—he turns to leave.

you watch him go.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel... hopeful.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't know what you're expecting.

when he texts you the next morning—same time tuesday? not for studying this time. if you're free.—you stare at it for a good ten minutes before responding. not because you’re unsure of your answer (you’re not), but because the implication hits like a freight train.

not for studying.

not as friends.

just you. just him. again.

this time, it’s a little different.

this time, he’s calling it what it is.

you don’t overthink your reply (for once). you just type yeah. i’m free and throw your phone face-down before your heart can beat out of your chest.

and when tuesday rolls around, you are twenty minutes early.

you tell yourself it’s because the weather’s nice and the walk was shorter than usual and you didn’t want to cut it close. but the truth is, you’ve been ready since noon.

you’re wearing the sweater he said he liked once, months ago, after a study session where he handed you a highlighter and your fingers brushed and you both paused like the world might end. it’s not even your warmest or your nicest sweater. it’s just... the one he looked at a little too long.

you don’t want to admit what that means.

you sit in your usual seat by the window. a small table, worn edges. your coffee in hand. no textbooks. no flashcards. just the sound of the café around you and the low simmer of anticipation in your chest.

he walks in three minutes early, which is basically scandalous by iida standards.

you glance up, and the second your eyes meet, he smiles.

it’s not his usual polite, committee-appropriate smile.

it’s something else.

something softer.

he sits down across from you like he’s been doing it his whole life.

you stare at him for a second too long.

“you’re early,” he says, like it’s a fact worth noting. his voice is gentler than usual.

“so are you.”

“a rare occurrence.”

“should i be concerned?”

he laughs—quietly, warmly. “i thought you might say that.”

you both go quiet.

not awkward quiet. just... full.

full of everything you’re not saying.

you sip your drink and hope your heart doesn’t explode.

twenty minutes in, you realize you’ve forgotten what time it is.

again.

you’re talking about something stupid—a professor you both silently hate but never speak ill of in class—and he’s mimicking their voice in a whisper, hand shielding his mouth, and you’re laughing.

like genuinely, honestly laughing.

like you don’t have a hundred things weighing you down.

he always does that. makes everything feel easier. lighter.

it’s dangerous, how much you like it.

how much you like him.

you haven’t said it. not out loud. not even to yourself.

but the truth is: you’re in trouble.

deep trouble.

because tenya iida has the power to wreck you in a way no one else ever has.

not because he’s dramatic. not because he’s charming (though he is, in that annoying, understated, golden-retriever-with-a-perfect-credit-score kind of way).

but because he’s steady.

because he means things.

because when he looks at you, it’s like you’re someone worth understanding.

and you’ve never been loved gently before.

not like this.

you walk out together.

neither of you mentions how long you stayed. it’s dark out, but neither of you cares.

you walk close, side by side. your hands brush once, then again. his fingers twitch toward yours, and you pretend not to notice—not because you don’t want it, but because you’re not sure what happens if you reach back.

you talk about nothing. and everything.

he tells you about the time his older brother accidentally dyed his hair blue with a shampoo prank and how no one in their house was allowed to mention it for an entire year.

you tell him about the time you accidentally set off a fire alarm trying to microwave leftover curry in a dorm that very explicitly prohibited strong-smelling food.

“you’re a menace,” he says, laughing.

you bump your shoulder into his. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he glances at you. “i didn’t say that.”

you both stop at the crosswalk—the same one where you stood days ago.

the same one where he asked if this had been a date...

you’re not pretending anymore.

and yet.

you don’t know what to say.

you just look at him, the wind brushing through your sleeves, your fingers cold where they’re shoved into your pockets.

he looks at you.

longer than before.

long enough that your heart stumbles.

and then—quietly—he says, “can i ask you something?”

you nod. “of course.”

his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. careful.

“why me?”

you blink. “what?”

“why... this?” he gestures gently between you. “i know i’m not the most exciting person. i’m not particularly funny or... spontaneous.”

you frown. “iida.”

“i’m just trying to understand,” he says. “why you keep showing up.”

you want to say because i like the way you talk when you’re tired, or because your laugh makes me want to listen to every dumb story you’ve ever told.

you want to say because i’ve never felt so calm next to another person in my entire life.

instead, you say, “because when i’m with you, i don’t feel like i have to be anyone else.”

his expression shifts.

his jaw tightens. his eyes soften.

he takes a step closer.

“i don’t want to mess this up,” he says.

“you’re not.”

“i don’t want to misread it.”

you exhale, a laugh escaping despite yourself. “you’re not.”

his hand lifts, hesitates—then lands gently against your cheek.

you stop breathing.

“may i kiss you?” he asks.

you nod before your brain catches up.

“yeah,” you whisper. “you may.”

and he does.

it’s not rushed.

it’s not fiery or desperate.

it’s patient. reverent. like he’s memorizing the feeling. like he’s been waiting for the right moment and this, finally, is it.

his lips press softly against yours, and your hands lift automatically to his jacket, holding on, grounding yourself.

when you part, he leans his forehead against yours.

you’re both quiet for a moment.

then he says, “i’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

you smile. “i could tell.”

“was i too obvious?”

“painfully.”

he laughs, arms sliding around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“this is still new,” he says. “i know that.”

you nod.

“but i’m willing to take it slow.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be patient.”

“okay.”

he pauses. “and i’d like to take you to dinner. an actual dinner. with reservations and menus and probably overpriced appetizers.”

you grin. “are you asking me on a real date?”

he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“yes,” he says. “i’m asking.”

“then yes,” you reply. “i’m saying yes.”

you walk home hand-in-hand.

you don’t have to say anything.

it’s not pretending anymore.

and for once—finally—that feels like enough.

Dungeon Master Eddie Munson STRANGER THINGS (SEASON 4) Chapter One: The Hellfire Club